<<< I <[hate]3 You, Aingeru

[Rage]

April 5th
12:38pm

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The lunchtime break. A time which allowed for lunch and time to stretch on the grounds. The hazel eyed girl finished her lunch and was allowed to roam the grounds. Allowed, as if stretching and having the smallest of freedoms was a privilege. But as Inmate #164, she thanked the guard. Thanked him, she was disgusted with herself, in her head she thought of how many different ways the guard could stop breathing. The Rage Bringer walked through the crowd, not everyone was done with their lunch.

She was never one for lifting weights like some of the other inmates. She sat at one of the tables and gazed on some of the others. Rage fell in with the rest of the crowd when it came down to it. Did as she was told, going to the therapy sessions she was forced to go to, which was insufferable. But other than that the Caged mutant... couldn't wait to get back home.

Life inside the walls of the prison were difficult at times. Well all the time, the Pit fights, the day to day treatment. Her last fight was against Maria, with the Rage bringer taking a dive. Apparently since the dive, the human spectators didn't like her as a toy. She hadn't been in a pit fight since. Then again, it wasn't too long ago, maybe they wanted to get the other inmates in for the entertainment before going back to her. Tina sighed deeply, wading out the time spend on the grounds.

[Aingeru]

How the mighty had fallen. Except he’d never been all that great to begin with. The whole point in leaving Cyprus was to lead a low-profile life, possibly extend his lifespan and live to see thirty. Fine job he’d done of that. Ironic that he’d choose a vocation in drug-trafficking, but it had a lot more perks than freedom-fighting and putting his ass on the line for abstract bullshit like nationalism. He didn’t spend much time reflecting on the past, calculating the exact moment where things went wrong or feigning repentance like so many did and appealing their actions to a higher metaphysical power (or a legal one; Aingeru was pretty damn broke at that point). What happened had happened, and that little trail of actions and consequences landed him in America’s fine penitentiary systems. And, if his first interrogators were to believed, Cyprus’s government was very adamant on having him extradited back to their country to face justice. Deportation seemed natural, and throwing a low-level dealer in CAGE seemed superfluous. It was definitely better than any accommodations his homeland could procure, where the rest of his days would be spent in a damp cold prison with only a bucket to shit in and another to drink from and little difference between the two, and that was if they were feeling generous. Legally, Cyprus did not execute criminals, but he was pretty sure they’d make an exception for an Anatolian responsible for the deaths of many Greek nationals. But for whatever reason, Aingeru won the big bad mutant lottery.

They were doing him a great favor, they said. How thoughtful.

Crossing the prisonyard, his skin crawled, cold and clammy. His time in rehab was short, certainly not enough to completely rid him of the addiction that festered in his mind and ate at his body, but it was a grand concession. The cravings came in sparse whispers, and with no supply readily at his disposal, he really did have no choice but to ignore them. His stomach had since managed to settle. A great personal accomplishment. He had a long string of them, really, like the fact that he’d managed to stay out of the paper gown brigade after psychic evaluations, despite the episode with an orderly in their infirmary that hadn’t been watching the instrument tray carefully. Poor guy didn’t realize he was missing a scalpel until it was lodged precisely in his brachial artery. The idiot. Aingeru got himself some well-earned time in solitary. Compared to the constant din in his head of nearby thoughts when on KICK, complete silence came as a bit of a shock. Fitting for a telepath. It was a wonder how he hadn’t started to hear voices. Maybe it was the null technology doing their job. Maybe he was too stubborn to crack.

Another chill prickled across his skin, Aingeru finding himself a seat at a table and sitting down, diverting his thoughts away from the growing sensation of nauseating malaise, clenching his teeth and scratching the stubble on his jaw, a compulsive tick that he’d always done. He stopped, however, as his gaze settled on a familiar face. They’d only met once, and her hair was completely gone. But even with his powers nullified, Aingeru’s memory was vivid and accurate.

“Tina James.” He said it, not with rancor or irritation or degree of displeasure that he only seemed to know how to speak in, but as though he were stating a very pedestrian fact, almost bored. His expression wasn’t too far behind. “What are you doing here?”

[Rage]

The hazel eyed girl heard a voice who knew her name, she turned to look at the face. He asked what she was doing there. His voice, it was so familiar. Something with how he said her name, it made her head hurt. Right behind her eyes. Tina couldn't place him but the tone in his voice aggravated her. He sounded bored and took no pleasure in the conversation.

“Same as you. I got caught.” The Rage Bringer focused on his face. She definitely knew she didn't know him. Even picturing him with hair she had never before seen his face. “How do you know me? I don't think I've met you before.” Whoever he was it was someone Tina had the feeling she didn't like. The ache behind her eyes and in her head steadily grew. She sighed deeply and touched the side of her temple. She was annoyed that her head had started to hurt now. She hadn't a headache as such since...

She thought again on how he said her name. It echoed in her mind. The hazel eyed girl couldn't get past the fact of how familiar his voice was, but how unfamiliar his face was. It then hit her. Months ago, at Mutant Town. A certain riot. It couldn't be. Rage's luck wasn't that bad was it? It hit her, “Are you kidding me? You?” Tina hated telepaths. Even with a null field on to be rid of their powers. He still gave her a headache.

[Aingeru]

His head worked like a faulty radio now, with a blown fuse or fried transformer, filled his brain with white noise. It's the things we lose that we miss the most, Aingeru once regarding the banal thoughts of others with scorn as they whispered insidiously in his head during his resting moments, plunging his mind into a crowded noisy room when he tried to sleep, interrupting his thoughts when he tried to extract something useful. But now there was only silence, his own thoughts and feelings, except that he'd spent so much of his lifetime listening to the mental murmurings of others that sometimes he couldn't be sure if the stuff between his ears was really his or the memory of something he'd picked up. Back then, he could make a distinction. Now, there was nothing to distinguish himself from.

He hadn't expected a warm welcome. Hell, he didn't know what to expect. He could, under normal circumstances, pick this woman's brain apart from a mile away, glean thoughts and emotions, break it all apart and put it back together again in an image he found pleasing. Here, he had to make do with the cards dealt. But the Turk hadn't spent his life in a telepathic bubble. People were not so hard to read, Tina here expecially. Her languishing expression slowly turned disquieted, the look in her eyes and crease in her brow telling of the little ball of unpleasant tension mounting in her head. He knew a migraine when he saw one.

“Same as you. I got caught.”

Her voice already sounded clipped, aggravated. He'd done nothing, and already Aingeru had crept under this girl's skin. Everyone always went looking for a fight around here. Aingeru sighed, leaning against the table and waiting for the phantom whispers for KICK to subside, tapping his null bracelet against the ledge. Rage looked at him more closely, the little gears and hamster wheels practically visible behind her forehead. At the images of little running rodents, Aingeru chuckled briefly, turning his face to the side.

"Need a better angle?"

"Are you kidding me? You?"

A faint sneering look crept into his eyes, like it was too much effort to express any emotion in its fullness around the girl. Like she wasn't worth it. She certainly didn't mask his disdain for him, and his indifference only seemed to agitate her more. That was her own fault. Had Aingeru been feeling better, he may have played it up a bit, given her a real reason to hate him. Violating the privacy of her thoughts had been nothing. Or maybe she still remembered that tragically brief moment of influence he'd pulled over her. He took no joy in killing people. No, that's no lie. Murder held nothing exciting or novel for him. He'd tired of it a long time ago.

But pulling people along, tying them to his whims with gossamer strings of thought, whispering into their ears and moving their bodies like they were his own, turning liars into saints and pacifists into raging psychopaths... yes, sometimes it did resemble a game. Sometimes, it was necessity. Tina had been a little of both.

Aingeru gave her a smirk. "Like the fly in your soup. Though I like to think I taste better than what they serve here." Now that he'd had her attention, it was his turn to look her over, more closely. Not that there was much to see. These orange prison-issued clothes were not in the least bit flattering, and it disappointed him. Indigo eyes fixed on her as though he could still read her thoughts. Which was a lie, but if her head felt so pained just after hearing his voice... wishful thinking, but what else did he have to do around here?

"Followed your leader off a cliff like a good little lemming, did you? I thought your group travelled in flea-bitten packs." That arrogant smirk was still there, Aingeru hiding his rancor well. He'd remembered that tidbit as well, who she was working for when he'd seen her stirring shit in Mutant Town. It had kept him from doing something truly unfortunate at that riot.

But now, times had changed and circumstances were different. The Brotherhood had wronged him, so very, very badly. Did she know about that? No, certainly not, or else she would have been more concerned about an act of indirect retaliation than unpleasant lunch conversation. The idiot.

"Would you like to know how I got in here?" he asked with an almost charming smirk. "It's a good story, I promise."

[Rage]

As he spoke to her she stared away from him in anger. He talked and talked, wishing and hoping he would shut up. She rolled her eyes as he asked her if she wanted to know about why he was there. Promising it was a good story. “I have a feeling no matter what I say you're going to tell me anyway.” His smirk, the stare in his eyes, the hazel eyed girl felt she couldn't really walk away. She tried to look for Piotr, or any of the other Sayan's.

No luck. She was stuck with the telepath. She sighed and waited for him to babble on about how and why he was within the CAGE. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him staring at her. They were fixed on her. She was happy he didn't have his powers. Tina so far had only a slight pain in the back of her eyes with his voice. She cared absolutely nothing for him. Nor did she care what he had to say.

The Rage Bringer shot him a quick glance to see if he would talk or just continue to stare at her. Using the peripherals of her vision to search for Sayans. Again no luck. She would just have to muscle her way through the meeting.

[Aingeru]

So touchy. Aingeru was only trying to make for some civil conversation. Certainly was a more elevated caliber than what some of the others here would offer. Women were a rarity in this disproportional population. The chat had the potential to devolve into something less than agreeable with many of the other inmates. Aingeru included. No use building himself up as a saint. Sure, that orange tarp they called a uniform wasn’t exactly doing it for him, but Tina was a decent-looking girl, even if she could have used a wig. Times were hard. Fucking this bitch wasn’t the top priority on his mind, but it was somewhere in there.

Before his mind could wander too far, Tina spat some bitchy retort. Truth be told, Aingeru wasn’t listening too closely. Disquieting as his gaze was, he relied on visual cues, body language, as much has he did the spoken word. It was necessary, having spent these last few years working with a demographic that would just as soon stab him in the gut as suck dick in their desperation for a hit. Tina was looking for help in the courtyard, which meant she had allies in this CAGE. Not a luxury Aingeru was currently affording these days, but some things never change. Aingeru looked out to the courtyard as well.

“Still resentful? Ah,” he murmured knowingly, nodding his head at the sagely observation. Before, it was his apathy that got her goat. Let’s see where condescending will get him. It was bound to piss her off. He turned his head and looked back at the girl. “You know,” he said, shifting in his seat and moving closer down the table, tilting his head to the side and looking thoughtfully into the distance. Leaning forward on his elbows as he folded his arms, he reduced the space between them even further, sitting just across from her. “You are not as cold as you like to think. It is very easy to get under your skin. But that day, it was not about you,” he began, frowning with an almost regretful sigh. An apology? Stranger things had happened.

“I was working. You understand. Attention like that is bad for business. For everyone. I did what had to be done.” He regarded her with a pitying expression. “Didn’t think that out completely. But who would expect you to? It is not in a woman’s nature.”

Aingeru finally leaned back, done with that tidbit of universal truth. Yes, he was absolutely baiting her. But worse, he completely believed what he said. Women are irrational, lead by their emotions and easily bruised feelings and emotional fits. If chauvinism was so wrong, why was it around millennia after the first man walked upright?

Because it was true. But Aingeru, bless his little heart, was a very understanding man.

“I am more interested in your story, though, Tina. Mine can wait.” He looked up at the ceiling, the smattering of halogen lights casting everything in that anodyne glow. “And no, not your life story. It was, how do you say, sikici? Boring… yes. Boring.”

Pleased with his translation, Aingeru carried on, lacing his fingers behind his shaved head.

“What is a member of the Brotherhood doing in his shit hole? Is that who you keep looking for right now?” A grin split his grim features. The Turk laughed.

“There are plenty that would love to kill any of your famous group, like a trophy. Myself included. Your people did put me here… they must have forgotten you were here, too.”

[Rage]

He talked to her about the day of the riot. How what he did to her was about business. Tina rolled her eyes when he commented on a woman's nature. The telepath wanted to hear about her story, not about her life of course, it was boring according to him. He seemed very pleased with himself.

He asked the Rage Bringer what she was doing there. His laughter annoyed her. The telepath continued by telling her that there was plenty of people who would love to kill anyone in the Brotherhood. As a trophy, himself included. He told her that it was the Brotherhood that put him in the CAGE. And that they probably forgot she was there.

She was beginning to hear just about enough of him and his voice. Tina really hope she would have found Piotr or any of the other Sayans. Giving a small chuckle she responded, “Is that what you think? Or what you hope for? Like I'd tell you anything.” Looking back towards him she continued on, “No inmate here would dare touch me. You'll learn quickly that there are certain groups here in the CAGE. Gangs if you will. You don't last long without establishing your position here.” She was smirking on the inside.

It wasn't much talk on her part but it was the best she could do without telling him too much. Of all people she certainly didn't want him to know about the breakout. She hated him, completely and fully. His very voice made her head ache, whether he knew it or not he continued on. What was worse was that he went inside her head and knew her name. The way it sounded coming from his vocal chords, would make her cringe if her head didn't already hurt.

Just beyond the telepath she could have sworn she saw Piotr. But with all the shaven heads and everyone looking the same, it was hard to tell if it was him or not. Tina hoped he would show soon. It would give her an excuse to leave. He seemed to enjoy doing so on the day of the riot. Even if it was all about 'business'.