Azure: Gunner

Interlude 6-III

ASP is the ‘newest’ of LA’s major prisons, having been established just over seventy-five years ago. Its existence, like many frontier towns, is based around the dungeon at its heart. The difference is that ASP ‘employs’ prisoners rather than law-abiding Citizens.

Some key details of ASP’s dungeon, like virtually everything else that takes place within its thick walls, are a closely guarded secret. What we know is that the dungeon is Tier 2. The accounts of former prisoners reveal that it resembles a large mine, with seemingly endless dark corridors of stone. Monsters are present, but in much smaller numbers than a typical dungeon.

Guards with the Leadership Skill are used to assemble large Squads to enter the dungeon. Tier 2 and 3 prisoners – armed with pickaxes and hammers – are then sent ahead to clear out the monsters, followed by Tier 1s. Quickly, the prisoners turn from fighting to mining, searching for valuable mana crystals.

The brutal labor is back-breaking punishment for the prisoners’ transgressions. Through hard work, the prisoners are re-forged into productive members of society. Those who reach a new Tier during or after a stay at ASP are often offered a Miner Class, providing the ex-convicts with the prospect of stable employment after their release.

Once collected by the guards, crystals are shipped on secure convoys from ASP to Lost Angels, where they power many of the items you might see on the shelves of any fine store. The exact output of ASP’s dungeon is restricted information, as is the overall profitability of the prison.

- Fodorick’s Lonely Traveler – Guide to LA’s Townships and Minor Attractions

The pitch-black cell block was the end of the Pit, and the end of her excitement for the night as well. Smith refused to elaborate on his final statement, but over the coming nights she found herself on more patrols with the Fighter. They visited The Pit every night, descending all the way down to where the hissing man waited.

Each time, she flung Pain Bolt after Pain Bolt at him, right up to the verge of passing out. Each night he went to his knees a little earlier, screamed a little louder. Yet each time she left unsatisfied. The more she got, the more she wanted. Elin was smart enough to see the trap in the escalation, but helpless to resist.

By the end of the third night, she’d Leveled Pain and Bolt both to 3. As always, Smith watched and said nothing as she cast, savoring the Hissing Man’s pain. Elin never asked why the man was there in the dark, never bothered to Identify him. She didn’t care what his name was, as long as he screamed for her.

The next week, she was brought onto the day shift for the first time. She noticed a few of the other night shift guards, who had been working at ASP much longer than her, were obviously resentful of her move away from the long, boring night shifts. On her first day shift – the one that started at noon – she found herself partnered up with an orc.

He was the first orc she’d seen outside of the dungeon, and he called himself White. She was sure it was some kind of joke, since his thick green skin was further darkened by dozens of tattoos. They reminded her of Zabara’s, only White showed his off openly.

He wore a partial set of leather that left his enormous chest and most of his arms bare. Elin didn’t know if his baselayer only consisted of pants or if he didn’t bother to use it. The orc was a Tier 2 Brawler, and Elin quickly noticed that the inmates all noticeably quieted down whenever they approached.

It was mid-afternoon when the commotion started. The guards were bringing a contingent of prisoners out from the dungeon. The portal, which Elin had yet to see, was located in a building that was under heavy guard when it was in use, which was every few days. Today was one of those days, and as Elin patrolled the courtyard with White, she noticed a ruckus outside the dungeon building.

A pair of guards emerged, tightly gripping a writhing, screaming prisoner. A third guard limped behind them, a trail of blood running down his leg. She recognized the injured guard as a high Tier 0 who’d been on the night shift when she first started.

“White!” one of the guards holding the prisoner bellowed. “Punishment detail!”

“Come along, kid,” the big orc grinned and Elin shivered at the sight of his sharp, pointed teeth. She found herself wondering what it felt like to eat meat with those fangs. It must be so easy to tear, to rip the flesh from the bone…

She followed him over to the pair of guards, and the green-skinned Brawler reached out and easily lifted the struggling man off the ground with a single hand. The man’s screams abruptly stilled as White casually slugged him once in the face and he slumped, unconscious in the orc’s grip.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Enthralled, she followed behind as the orc hefted the limp man over one massive shoulder and strode off. She barely noticed the expressions of fear and loathing on the faces of the other prisoners. If she had, she would have stopped, at least for a moment, to enjoy them.

That is power. Fuck being a Healer, I never really wanted the stupid Class anyway. I just thought I wanted everyone to be nice to me, to try and kiss up to me. Then I would join their Squad and Heal them safely from the back while they did all the bleeding and they would be grateful for it. That was so… short-sighted of me, I can tell now.

My magic isn’t meant for taking away pain. It’s for getting stronger, so I can make people do what I want. Make them feel what I want them to feel.

White carried the unconscious man into the building that housed The Pit, but instead of going down the stairs, he headed across the room and pushed open the door. It opened into a small room Elin had never seen. There was nothing in the room except for a pair of manacles hanging from the far wall. A single mana light in the ceiling illuminated the room with a harsh glare when White flipped the switch with his free hand, casually banging the prisoner’s head against the stone wall in the process.

The Brawler carried his burden to the wall and clamped one of the manacles around each of the prisoner’s wrists, so that he half-hung from the wall with his arms above his head. The man’s eyes opened wide as White slapped him twice across the face. Ignoring the now-whimpering prisoner, White turned to Elin with a wicked gleam in his red eyes.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Smith, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The Healer smiled.

Pain Bolt! Pain Bolt! Pain Bolt!

How disappointing, Elin thought. He’s already screaming like a little girl. Pathetic!

Pain Bolt. Pain Bolt. Pain Bolt.

The prisoner voided his bowels, his pants darkening with urine and shit as he lost control of his bodily functions. Elin glanced at White while her focus recharged, but the orc didn’t say anything. She knew she should stop and ask questions, but the man’s pain was addictive – so readily available, not locked away tightly like the Hissing Man’s.

Pain Bolt. Pain Bolt! Pain Bolt!

Pain Bolt. Pain Bolt!

Suddenly the screaming cut off, and Essence flooded into her.

[Congratulations!] the androgynous, calm voice of the System spoke directly into her mind. [You have gained enough Essence to reach Level 4! Well done, Healer!]

Her moment of triumph was interrupted by a rumbling sound from White that she realized belatedly was laughter.

“Ha ha ha! Wasted hells, girl, you just cost me ten eagles!”

She must have looked as confused as she felt, because the orc quickly explained.

“Smith told me you’d go all the way the first time you got the chance. I was sure it would take a little poking, a little prodding, some time to feel out the rules and see how much you could get away with. Fuck! You’re a natural, kid.”

His eyes narrowed then, twin slits of red contrasting with his green skin.

“And it’s a good thing, too, because now you’re in, and there’s no getting out.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Elin asked, breathing hard. She hadn’t realized her heart was racing and her whole body tingling. It had felt… good. So good, like the man’s Essence was somehow better, sweeter than a mere monster’s.

“You just killed a prisoner in cold blood, little girl.” Elin bristled at the diminutive, but White continued. “No resurrections for prisoners here, this man is staying dead. And you did it while he was chained up, helpless, with his collar on. That’s the kind of thing they send people here for, you know. Do you have any idea how rough it would be in here, for a little thing like you? And a former guard to boot?”

Elin felt the blood drain from her face as he kept talking.

“Of course, prisoners do die here occasionally. Usually when we leave ‘em in the dark a bit too long and they can’t take it. End up bashing their own heads in or committing suicide-by-guard the first chance they get. So, nobody needs to know that you killed this dumb bastard, as long as you play along.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, her voice barely a croak.

The tattooed orc shrugged, muscles rippling.

“Not up to me,” he said. “For now, just keep doing your job here. We’ll let you know when we need something. Just remember though, the right word from me and you’ll be on the other side of the bars looking out.

“And don’t think you could get rid of me and solve your little problem – not that you’d have a baby’s chance in the Wastes of taking me out. You’d have to go through Smith and others that you don’t even know. People far, far more dangerous than me.”

“Who are you? What people are you talking about?”

“The Reavers,” he replied, and Elin thought her heart stopped beating for just a moment.