Beyond - Legends "Breakfast in Bedlam" (Psychodrama/Action) -COMPLETE! 9/18- Thank you!

Can't go wrong with cannibals. There simply aren't enough of 'em in canon.

Anywho, next chapter is up and it's chock full of violence from the get-go! So, if you're looking for a good fight, this should be right up your alley!

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Chapter 14

The heavy hit slammed him square across his respirator, almost dislodging it and sending Zuckuss stumbling backward. Another fist shot passed his left eye, connecting with his jaw line. And another impact to the back of his head, his vision blurring for a moment. The dangling tubes and canisters rattling together, disoriented from the sudden assault, he pitched forward, arms out, hitting the ground hard on his hands and knees. Around him, he could see the legs of several inmates. None of them made a move toward him. As the dizzying impacts faded from his head, he could hear them laughing. His gaze remained on the ground beneath him, the thin layer of new-fallen snow having been disturbed by the scuffle. Flakes continued to fall, he could feel the icy pinpricks melting against the back of his neck where the snow had found its way passed his jumpsuit?s collar. Moving his gaze to the pair of legs directly in front of him, Zuckuss swallowed his breath, forcing down the tightness of a nagging cough that lurked in his chest. He could afford to show no weakness now.

?I don?t get you, bug,? a voice spoke that Zuckuss recognized as belonging to Hardin. ?A couple weeks ago, you sucker-punched me in the back. Got Dokk sent off to Hi-Max, too.? He began to pace toward the Gand?s right. ?Sometimes, you got some real fight in you?? The snow crunched beneath his feet. ?Not today, though, huh, bug??

Zuckuss?s breath was forced from his lungs by a strong kick to the thorax. His arms gave out and he hit the ground. Ignoring the pain and discomfort, he pulled himself back to his hands and knees. The nagging cough finally escaped with his panting.

Hardin laughed before speaking again. ?Nah, this ain?t fair. Hey, Mahlon, you think this is fair??

There was a chuckle preceding Mahlon?s response. ?Heh, no man, this totally ain?t fair.?

?See?? Hardin continued his pacing. ?We?ll fight you fair, bug. Get up and let?s do this thing right.? Grabbing Zuckuss by the arm, he yanked him to his feet. ?C?mon, runt. Let?s do this right.?

Zuckuss wavered before regaining his footing. The back of his head throbbed heavily. His gear making a noticeable hiss as he sucked in his breath, he tried to achieve a sufficient presence of mind, clearing away the mental distractions so he could better defend himself. Taking a deep, cleansing breath of his respirator?s ammonia supply, he let it out slowly, feeling the pain and tightness ease, flowing down his arms and out through the tips of his fingers. He was ready.

Hardin watched the brief meditation before him and laughed. ?What?s this, bug? You going all warrior monk, now?? He turned to look at Mahlon. ?Hey, you see what he?s--? Hardin?s words were cut short by a quick blow to the gut, followed by Zuckuss?s chitinous elbow slamming between his shoulder blades as he doubled over. Within seconds, Hardin was sprawled on the wet, slushy ground, the falling snow causing dark dots to appear across his back as they melted on impact. Hardin coughed, catching his breath, pulling himself to his feet. ?Man, seriously, what the kriffin? hell?!?

?You wanted to fight,? Zuckuss said simply. His gaze darted from Hardin, to Mahlon and the other inmates, and back again, his fists curled, his arms held bent at the elbows. The air hoses looping beneath his breathing apparatus swung slightly, though rhythmically, as he rocked his weight from foot to foot. Some of the wiser inmates took a small step backward, they had witnessed Zuckuss fight before.

Hardin rolled up his sleeves, shooting a glare to some of the other prisoners. ?Buncha wusses...? He shook his head. ?He?s a short, asthmatic 4-LOM in a dress, c?mon!? Unfortunately for Hardin, his co

 

No, it can't end like this! Not like this! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

Next chapter's up. Packed full of social commentary! And some innuendo. Can't go wrong with innuendo.

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Chapter 15

Then.

?Everyone has a right to live here and I refuse to be a part of a regime that says otherwise! I?ve worked too hard to help turn things around only to sit back and watch it all go back to what it once was!? Toryn Farr folded her arms, her glare fixed on Brigadier General Havenstrite.

?So, you would prefer these people sneaking in, stealing our jobs and benefits without contributing to society as they should?? Havenstrite shook his head. ?It is a good thing that you have no real power, Commander Farr. If it were up to you, we?d be up to our bootstraps in these leaches.?

?I?m not saying that we should allow people to live off the grid, but perhaps there is another way, perhaps register them rather than deportation??

?How can you be so blind?!? Havenstrite stepped forward, towering over Toryn, jabbing his finger mere centimeters from her nose. ?Are you aware of the amount of money that would require? Have you stopped to think about that, about whether or not the public would be willing to pay for this? To pay to register freeloaders so that they are now permitted to steal our jobs? Of course you didn?t!? He stepped closer, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. ?How Rieekan could ever commend someone so unbelievably foolish is beyond my understanding.?

?How dare you speak to her like that!? A high-pitched voice cut through the tense situation. Both Toryn and Havenstrite turned around, seeing Zuckuss standing in the doorway, his gloved finger pointing accusingly in Havenstrite?s direction.

Toryn recovered her voice first. ?Zuckuss, what?re you doing in here? This... this really isn?t any of your concern...?

Zuckuss ignored her, crossing the room to Havenstrite, stabbing at the air as if the motion of pointing would have a tangible effect on the man. ?You do not ever speak to Toryn in that manner!?

Havenstrite?s face contorted into a scowl and he swatted the Gand?s hand away. ?Get out of this room at once, you insect. You have no business here.? He gestured to the door, only for Zuckuss to grab his arm. ?What are you doing? Unhand me and get out of here!?

Toryn could feel the Gand?s rising anger radiating like the heat of a furnace. ?Zuckuss...? Her voice was a level warning.

Still ignoring Toryn, Zuckuss tightened his grip on Havenstrite?s arm, taking a step forward, his voice low. ?If I ever, ever hear you speak to Toryn like that again--?

Havenstrite raised an eyebrow. ?Are you threatening me, insect?? He laughed, shooting Toryn a vulpine look. ?I see you have him wrapped around your finger, Commander. So, what favors did you grant him??

Toryn?s jaw dropped. She felt her face flush a bright red at what she was being accused of. ?Sir...! How can you think that I would...?

Havenstrite snorted. He wrenched his arm from Zuckuss?s grip and turned towards Toryn, the Gand?s focus was now on some inner point concerning the man?s statement. ?You said it before yourself, Commander, that you ?had gotten to know him quite well.? And here he is, like the over-protective leashed boyfriend.? He shook his head. ?Honestly, Commander. Have you no shame??

Toryn was utterly speechless, so Zuckuss replied for her. Unfortunately, the response was a quick jab to Havenstrite?s midsection. Havenstrite doubled over as he stumbled backward. He coughed, recovering the breath that was forced from his lungs. Toryn blinked, stepping back as well, finally finding her voice. ?Zuckuss...! What?re you--?

?Don?t just stand there, you dimwit!? Havenstrite?s hoarse voice snapped. ?Call security!? He straightened, raising his arm just in time for a blow to glance off of it. He caught Zuckuss by the wrist and pulled it behind the Gand?s back, wrapping his other arm around Zuckuss?s neck, pinning him. ?You are not the only one with SpecForce training...?

 

Another chapter is up.

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Chapter 16

It was amazing how quickly the New Republic could organize a military tribunal at the behest of an officer with the deepest pockets and the loudest mouth. For the rest of the galaxy, the justice system had citizens mired in mountains of flimsi-work and legal fees for months and sometimes years before they ever set foot in a courtroom. Such procedures, Toryn Farr noticed, were cast aside, the process expedited immensely, as she found herself in full military dress, sitting just behind the prosecution in a slavishly--even ludicrously--ornate courtroom within a matter of a few weeks of the incident in question. When the case involved a former Rebel agent who had deserted to operate on the fringes of galactic law, no one dragged their feet when it came to bringing him to justice.

Bounty hunters were generally disliked by the military and government, though because they were beneficial at bringing fugitives to justice much faster than the efforts of the local law enforcement, then the Republic tolerated their presence. However, the very moment one of the lawless mercenaries stepped out of line, the Republic wasted no time in putting them away. And when the hunter in question was considered by most to be high-profile, they moved even faster to sweep the incident under the proverbial rug to avoid a messy media circus. Such public debacles would only serve to tarnish the government further in the eyes of the citizens, bounty hunters garnering more admiration in the popular culture than the proper and legal methods of the police force.

Toryn sighed, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. She had been sitting in on the trial for what felt like all day, she could not tell. There was no chronometer on the wall to check and she was not wearing one herself. She had lost all sense of the passage of time as she sat there, her thoughts drifting in and out of the room. She was asked to testify at some point, which she did, but she wasn?t exactly sure when that was. She looked over to the defense where a court-appointed attorney sat, along with an officer, and in between them sat Zuckuss, wrists and ankles securely bound and clad in a prison uniform that was obviously meant for larger convicts. The fabric had rumpled and billowed around the shoulder straps and belt of the harness that held the filtering unit secure between his shoulder blades.

Zuckuss?s gaze was locked on the table before him and his attorney said not a single word to him, as if defending the Gand were a reluctant obligation that he hoped would soon be over with. Zuckuss was quiet and still throughout the proceedings, and Toryn saw that when she testified, Zuckuss had noticeably shrank in his seat, trying to force himself to disappear in the oversized prison grays. He could barely bring himself to look at Toryn, though she noticed out of the corner of her eye that he would sneak a furtive glance every now and then.

His shoulders drooped, head bowed, and quiet demeanor, Zuckuss made no attempt to explain himself to his defense attorney, accepting the charges that were thrown at him. He barely did anything and needed to be forcefully yanked to his feet when the bailiff ordered everyone to stand. Even his brief testimony was quiet, his words muttered out and run together. Several times he was asked to repeat himself, speak louder, and enunciate. He claimed to have no memory of the incident. He knew he had done something wrong and was ready to accept the consequences, but he was not entirely sure what exactly he did.

Toryn found this to be odd, along with that Zuckuss was once again speaking in the third-person. She heard Brigadier General Havenstrite remark under his breath that ?the lunatic is putting on an act, trying to cop a plea,? to which his attorney chuckled in agreement. However, Toryn could not help but wonder. Zuckuss seemed genuinely concerned over his memory lapse, claiming that it had been a problem throughout his caree

 

Epilogue

Now.

The door slammed with a hollow bang, Cami Sookanado walking back to the cellblock, escorted by two guards. She had just spoken with the parole board and was told that her bail was paid, her sentence commuted, and she was free to go. The news came as a shock to her as she had gotten complacent with her surroundings and structured routine, having settled in for what she expected to be a very long stay. However, she did miss her son terribly and wanted nothing more than to see him again.

Cami sighed, the walls suddenly becoming foreign to her, accepting that this was the last time she would walk those halls. It has been a week since the riot, a riot that Cami had thankfully missed due to being sequestered in a separate exercise yard reserved for the female inmates. She did hear it, however, and see it through the fences; the screams and shouts of the inmates as they fought against the emergency response team as they tried to quell the chaos. She did not see the containment as she was ushered back to her cell for lockdown.

Her cell seemed smaller that night and the following couple days as she spent her time in it alone, her cellmate, Zuckuss, having been injured during the riot. The CO didn?t give Cami any details, saying she would just need to save her questions for when Zuckuss was back from the infirmary. So, Cami kept the cell tidy and maintained a vigil on Zuckuss?s meager belongings to prevent theft by the other inmates.

Several inmates who perpetrated the riot were now in Hi-Max, including Pepan Manja, who, Cami overheard, was the one who allegedly stabbed Zuckuss out in the exercise yard. The Kubaz?s actions removed him from Gen Pop entirely, Cami noticing a different convict inhabiting Pepan?s cell in E-7. Pepan now had a 23-hour lockdown to look forward to, his movements restricted and only himself as his company. Whatever freedoms he had left were now gone; he had given them up the minute he put the weapon in his hands. The only sunlight he would ever see for a long time would be the diffused rays trying to penetrate the layers of grime on a thick, clouded transparisteel strip that passed for a window. Hi-Max, Cami heard, could drive an inmate insane.

Yard privileges for her unit were now revoked for an undetermined length of time and the inmates were understandably upset. Most of them claimed to have had no part in the riot, though Cami could see the bruises and bandages decorating many of the prisoners like badges and smeared tattoos. Only the female inmates could not be held accountable, but they were punished alongside the rest of the unit. No one played favorites in Bedlam.

On her way to meet with the parole board, Cami had overheard snatches of a heated discussion between the head therapist Dr. Gawynn Karastee and Bedlam?s administrator. From what she could extrapolate, Dr. Karastee was furious and blaming the riot on the administrator, threatening resignation unless something was changed. Cami did not hear the rest of the discussion and she never asked Karastee about it when the psychiatrist passed her in the hallway later.

The thought of Karastee?s resignation upset Cami as she was an advocate for the mentally-ill inmates. She was the only one who seemed concerned with actually rehabilitating her clients rather than locking them away to rot. Losing her would mean losing a chance for redemption. It was Karastee?s actions that had secured Cami?s release. The rest of the psychiatric staff dispensed medication, doing the bare minimum required to collect a paycheck at the end of the week. Dr. Karastee, however, was so much more than just another suit.

Cami sighed. She knew any resignation would not affect her as she was being released. However, the other inmates would surely suffer. Locked away from civilized society and drugged until they were docile, the mentally ill were viewed with as much disdain, if not more, as the common criminal. The ones who were lucky enough to escape the penal system were still segregated in group homes, pills shove