Beyond - Legends "The Devil You Know" (Second Proverbs Challenge) -Completed 6/06-

[image=http://img94.imageshack.us/img94/7174/zuckusslecard.jpg]

Title:"The Devil You Know"
Author: Trak Nar
Timeframe: 27 ABY
Characters: Zuckuss, Gawynn Karastee (from the Essential Guide to Alien Species), OCs
Genre: Drama/Character study

Note: My interpretation on the following:
42. "Better the devil you know than the devil you don?t." English proverb, mid 19th century

Takes place within the same setting as Breakfast in Bedlam. Also cross-posted on the Star Wars Fanon Wiki.

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Chapter 1

It had started out simply enough; go in, get evaluated, serve his sentence, and leave. He had figured that he wouldn't be in for more than a few months until he was back on the outside, hunting in the Outer Rim. But, seeing as how it had been over two years, with the disciplinary sanctions adding to the time, then he could not help but wonder... The additional charges against him were for things that he swore he had no part in, and they mirrored his original indictment; another assault that he has no memory of ever committing. As the charges and accusations continued to mount, he had to wonder if perhaps the staff simply had a vendetta against him. But, why? A number of the other convicts were ones that he had brought in himself. One would think that prison staff would be thankful.

Zuckuss shook his head slowly. He was seated on his spartan bunk in his cramped cell. It was just after another meeting with the disciplinary committee and they were still undecided as whether to send him to the Hole again or just transfer him to another cellblock in hopes that he would stay out of trouble. If he were any other inmate, he would already be serving his minimum of ninety Standard days in a 23-hour lockdown. However, since his charges and sentencing were based around his legal and mental competency--or lack thereof, according to the judge--then his psychiatrist was present and had posed the possibility of transfer to another yard. Though, Zuckuss was wary about the transfer; it would be to the Secure Needs Unit, a cellblock usually reserved for the high-risk inmates. Inmates that included former gang members, and those whose crimes were of a deviant sexual nature. In Gen Pop, those inmates would be high-profile targets and thus be assaulted, or even killed, with little regard to the consequences to the prisoner that committed the act. Zuckuss's psychiatrist reasoned that since he was a well-known bounty hunter on the outside, that he was at as much risk as the other high-profile inmates, and thus it would be in the best interest of his safety that he be moved to the SNU.

The committee said that they would discuss the matter and reconvene at a later date. Zuckuss was then returned to his cell, flimsiwork describing his charges in hand, to await a verdict, however long that would take. Part of him was unsure about the possibility of transfer; he had no doubt brought in some of the SNU inmates himself. Would he not be a target there, as well? And the thought of sharing a cell with a deviant, regardless if that individual was one of his former bounties or not, just sickened him. He would need to voice his concerns with the board concerning that. Whether or not they would heed his words remained to be seen.

There was a knock on his cell door as the tray slot opened. "Zuckuss?" That was the voice of his psychiatrist, Dr. Gawynn Karastee. "I need to review something with you. You still have your flimsiwork?"

Zuckuss stood and approached the cell door. He sat with his back against the wall so as to be eye level with the tray slot. "Zuckuss swears that he did not do what they claimed he had done. He only wishes to serve his time and be released. They are spreading lies." Nothing but lies. The mists confirmed it, as Zuckuss had absolutely no recollection of getting in

 

Looks to me like Zuckuss is getting a bit of brainwashing, and people messing with his understanding of events and timelines. I wonder why... Great OC you've created here--he leaves more questions than answers. I'll be keeping up!

 

Can't wait to see more.

 

Well, since I wrote up the next part earlier today, I might as well type it up (I write my stories by hand, first)...

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Chapter 2

It happened again. Those damned blackouts. This time, however, he was at least remotely aware of the passage of time. There was an obvious discrepancy, a gaping hole in his memory. He had retired after lights out and awoke in the mess hall, mid-way through chow. How much time had transpired between then and now, he could not tell. What happened during that time also remained a mystery. He just hoped that he stayed out of trouble.

Zuckuss hunched himself over his meal tray. He had held his breath and removed his mask to eat, but had promptly replaced it once he had "woken up," so to speak. It took him a moment to calm his breathing, though he did not remove his mask. His meal, either lunch or dinner, he could not tell, sat before him, half-eaten. He took the opportunity to do a quick survey around the mess; he noticed that he was seated with his back to a corner, a suitable vantage point so that he could maintain a loose watch on the other inmates. One of the corrections officers, a chisel-faced Twi'lek named Makibbin, was watching him.

Zuckuss held his breath, removed his mask, and took a few more bites of what he could only assume was a stew of some type. The flavor did not clue him in, either, as everything tasted bland and chalky, a side-effect of his medication. It was edible, however, and his stomach craved it. Might as well placate the roiling beast with something.

One of the inmates stood and approached him. The inmate was a tall Human male with a shaved head and a body that was covered in tattoos, many of the designs were stylized symbols that marked the man as a gang affiliate. The man placed both hands flat on the table and leaned his weight on them, watching Zuckuss closely. After a long moment of tense silence, the inmate sucked his breath in through his round nose and spoke. "Well?"

Zuckuss replaced his mask and glanced up. "Well, what?" He knew the inmate's name as Wes, a prominent member of some supremacist COMPNOR off-shoot group. Usually, Wes and the other members of that gang left him alone, as Zuckuss was wise to keep his own distance.

Wes leaned forward. "You said you were gonna kick the scarns outta me today. You gonna do it, bug?"

Zuckuss gave Wes a puzzled look. "Of course not. Zuckuss said no such thing..." He returned his gaze to his meal and pushed the food around with his fork.

With a swing of his arm, Wes knocked the tray to the floor and the clattering impact caught the attention of the other inmates. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He stormed around the table as he hissed through his nose again. "Now, either you're gonna kick my ass, or I'm gonna kick yours." He pulled Zuckuss to his feet and shoved him backward. "You don't say Sith like that, you keep to your own kind." He shoved the Gand backward once more. "And this third-person nerfspit? Sure weren't talking like that yesterday when you said you were gonna split my head open..."

Zuckuss's back hit the wall behind him as his mind began to race. Oh, you are in for it now... Look at what you did.

"Quiet," Zuckuss hissed under his breath.

Wes grabbed Zuckuss by his uniform, lifted him off of his feet, and slammed him against the wall. And there he held him as he leaned in close, snorting. "What was that, bug? Got something to say to me?"

Over Wes's right shoulder, Zuckuss could see Makibbin approach. The Twi'lek whacked his nightstick against his palm. "Let him go, Wes. He ain't worth it."

Wes held Zuckuss in his stern glare for a moment longer. His voice dropped to a vicious snarl. "I hear you talking smack about me again and I will kill you." He released the Gand, turned on the ball of his foot, and stalked away.

Zuckuss watched Wes leave. Most of the inmates had returned to their meals, though a few snickered and flashed lewd gestures in his d

 

I've actually had this third part written up pretty much the morning after typing the second part. The fourth part is currently in the works, going through a re-planning and tweaking stage.

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Chapter 3

Zuckuss glanced down at his binders for a moment. "...Is he insane?"

Dr. Gawynn Karastee seemed to be surprised by the question. "Why do you ask?"

"The medication, the accusations, the judge even said it; that Zuckuss is insane."

Karastee sighed and shifted in her chair. She was seated across from Zuckuss in the interview room, the chairs and table being the only points of interest in the drab chamber. A mirror--most likely a two-way, if Zuckuss's history with law enforcement had taught him anything--was to the Gand's left. He studied his and Karastee's reflections for a moment, then returned his gaze to the psychiatrist, ready to pose his question once more.

Karastee, however, spoke. "Well, Zuckuss, there was something I heard..." She inhaled, a hiss that sounded sharply in the bad acoustics. "If a person calls you a Hutt, ignore them. If the second person calls you a Hutt, start to wonder. If the third person calls you a Hutt, buy a drool bucket and start stockpiling spice."

Zuckuss's gaze went immediately to the binders that secured his wrists. "So, he is insane..." The judge was right, then. The other inmates were right. Perhaps even his former associates thought so, too. He wondered if even 4-LOM thought the same...

Karastee shook her head. "That's not what I meant..." She sighed again. "Look, what I meant was--well, let's-let's just say this: even if you were--which I'm not saying that you are--we'll still work on making you better. I'm only trying to help you, Zuckuss."

"Then stop spreading lies!" Zuckuss snapped with the slap of his palms against the table. "Stop accusing him of things that he hadn't done!"

His psychiatrist let out another tired sigh. "We've been through this before... The reason you can't remember anything is because you dissociate when it happens--"

"What does that even mean?" Zuckuss regarded Karastee in his stern gaze. That word was thrown around all the time, but no one had ever bothered to tell him what they meant by it. No, everyone was perfectly content to just fill him full of pills and drug him to docility. Zuckuss moved his gaze to the mirror. He heard Karastee say something to him, he had seen her reflection's mouth move, but he did not pay it any mind. He studied his reflection closely; his large, round compound eyes and that ubiquitous breath mask. Though, he noticed something... different. He could not quite make out a form, but the shadow that was cast behind him seemed to have... coalesced into something. He shook his head, rubbed his eyes, and fixed his stare on the mirror. If you are not insane already, you are certainly well on your way...

"Quiet," Zuckuss told his reflection. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karastee lean across the table and touch his arm.

"Are you all right?" Karastee's brow was furrowed.

Of course not. You are insane.

Zuckuss's gaze snapped to the mirror as his chest began to feel hot. The heat gradually moved up into his shoulders and around his neck. His reflection stared back at him, mockingly.

"Zuckuss?" Karastee asked again. "Are you hearing voices? Will you tell me what they're saying?"

Go ahead. Tell her. Tell her that you are insane. Tell her what you had done. Tell her.

Zuckuss jumped up, stormed the mirror, and hit it with both fists. "Stop it! Stop saying that! There is nothing to tell! Zuckuss had done nothing wrong!" His reflection merely held him in the same accusatory stare. His chest felt hot and tight and the dull pain returned behind his eyes. He fixed his gaze firmly on the mirror, trying to ignore the prattling.

Tell her. Go ahead. Tell her. Tell her everything. Tell her that you are insane. Tell her what you had done. Tell her about it all. Tell her about everything. Tell her about

 

Final chapter!

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Chapter Four

He blinked a few times as he stared at the mess before him. His cell was in total disarray; the bunk mattress was undressed, an empty vial at his feet, books and his other meager belongings strewn about, the hand towel no longer covered the mirror above the toilet and had been unceremoniously dumped into the sink. Zuckuss quickly crossed his cell, replaced the towel, then turned toward his cell door after a mental inventory of his scattered things. "Where is his rosary?"

Makibbin, who was still standing outside the door, raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"His prayer beads. You had taken them. Zuckuss would appreciate it if they were returned."

"Contraband," Makibbin said simply.

Zuckuss found that response to be puzzling. "They were not contraband before. Section six in the policy regarding personal property allows for religious items and thus Zuckuss was permitted to keep those in his cell--"

"That was before you tried to strangle another inmate with them."

"What?!" The statement struck him as so ridiculous and shocking that he took a step backward. "When was this?? Zuckuss has done no such thing!" How dare the CO accuse him of such matters! Since his incarceration, Zuckuss had made it a point to obey the rules and policies to a fault; he only wished to serve his sentence and be released without incident. He was a model prisoner, could they not see that?

Makibbin rolled his eyes. "Don't play dumb. Why do you think you were meeting with the disciplinary committee?"

"Zuckuss never met with them! You tossed his cell for no reason while he was out on the yard! And you took his things and dare to accuse him of such charges? Just what is going on, here?!" Zuckuss began to pace his cell as he spoke. It made absolutely no sense, he had been out on the yard. He never laid a hand on another inmate, and if he did, it was in self-defense. He most certainly would never use his rosary to inflict harm. To use a sacred item with malicious intent would be blasphemous!

The guard watched him for a moment longer, and then conferred with someone over the comm. "This is Makibbin. He's doing it again."

"Doing what again?" Zuckuss stopped his pacing and approached his cell door. "What are you talking about? Zuckuss did not do what you claim he had done! You throw all these lies around and accuse him of everything! He only wishes to serve his time and be released!"

"Then do that!" Makibbin snapped. "Stop going off on other inmates, and stop it with this ignorant bit! Kriff, you're karkin' insane!" With that, he stalked down the hall and out of sight.

Zuckuss stood there, dumbfounded. Insane. That was what the judge said; that he was insane. And the guard just confirmed it. Insane. Dangerous to yourself and others.

Zuckuss shook his head, turned his back to the door, and began to restore some order to his cramped cell. He let out a sigh as he gathered his belongings. "Is he, really? Why do they keep saying that? Accusing him of such things?"

Perhaps you did do it. You just can't remember...

"No," Zuckuss shook his head, "no, he went from the yard to his cell, to find it like this. He did not harm that inmate. Why would he? When would he?"

Check the time.

Zuckuss glanced at the chronometer. It was late evening. He shook his head, unable to reconcile the time. He had been on the yard just several minutes ago, and that had been after lunch. Yet, according to the chrono, it would soon be lights out. How in the mists is that possible? Perhaps the device was broken... Though, a quick glance at the sliver of a window confirmed the time. A dull knot of pain began to throb behind his eyes.

Perhaps what they say is true. You just can't remember.

Zuckuss shook his head. "No. No. He did no such thing. There is nothing wrong. The staff are spreading lies. They know who Zuckuss was on the outside."

Dangero

 

An excellent mind-brew of a story!

 

Thanks. I was actually surprised that this fic even got written, without my muse abandoning me mid-way through. I guess that proverb was just the right one, as once I read it, the gears started churning and about a month or so later, I had a completed short story. I'm tempted to try another proverb and see what I can come up with, but I'm afraid to scare away my muse.

 

Muses are flighty things. Mine looks like Selma Hayek.

In any case, I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes the muse goes away for a month or more at a time, and at the most inconvenient spots too. On one fan-fiction novel I was working on, she took the slow boat to Alpha Centauri in the middle of the ninth chapter and wouldn't come back for weeks and weeks. Damn near missed my deadline, too.