Thread: Jail-House Bitch (books and Magi)

Harkin. A moon that orbits a distant and barren desert planet many light-years from civilized society. It is here on this desolate rock that one can find the Harkin Penal Correctional Facility, home to the worst refuse to dwell in the galaxy. On one side of the moon was the facility that housed the female population and on the other was the male population. The initial area one might see for either one on the surface consisted of a docking area, and a somewhat large building. Hardly enough to house a hundred people, let alone the large population of Harkin. The majority of either facility was below the surface of the moon, massive spiraling structures and cell blocks that could house thousands. Once one entered either facility they would only leave one way, in a body bag shot out into space from the docking bay. The worst of the worst made their homes here, murderers, rapists, terrorists, and pirates. Harkin was also very loosely controlled by either warden, both possessing control over their respective facilities but choosing not to overly hamper crime. As such the prison moon was a paradise for those with the blackest hearts and cruelest minds, those who delighted in their crimes rather than feeling shamed by them. One such criminal was located in the female population, observing some of the view screens near the mess hall. She was tall to be certain, standing a head above most of the women and possessing a lean build with well-honed muscles. Her tanned flesh was marred here or there with crisscrossing scars and possessed dark spiraling tattoos that snaked down her arms. Her dark hair was cut just below her shoulders and kept in a short ponytail with her bangs kept out of her green eyes. Her orange prison shirt was wrapped around her waist as a sort of belt for her orange pants, her thin white shirt doing little to obscure the black bra underneath. Jora was her name, a name that conveyed fear inside and outside these walls. A terrorist of some renown, Jora was sentenced to live out the rest of her natural life in this prison over two years ago. The twenty-eight year old had caused quite a bit of mayhem and carnage, to the point where new meat brought in still knew of her. Blowing up the Congressional Hall was probably why, her most satisfying job really. She didnt see why people raised such a big fuss about that, politicians were like flea. No matter how many you squished between your fingers more would bite at your scalp. Currently today was the day when new meat arrived and most were gathered around the monitors, looking at who would be joining them. Jora possessed little interest in the whole thing half would be dead in a week anyway. Though she supposed some of the spectators might be gang recruiters on the lookout for more members. Jora did not have that problem as she was not a part of any of the gangs. None of them seems to want to take an unstable terrorist into their midst. So she lived the life of an independent, well-paying really. Jora turned away from the screens as the shuttle arrived, heading towards the line of people getting their food. She offered a nod to one of the guards who returned it, Amelia, one of her more reliable contacts in the guards. Early twenties but a pretty damn good shot and a sight for sore eyes. She wore that riot armor well and could swing that shock stick of hers around pretty damn well. Jora turned her gaze back to the food, picking out her usual fare of grey sludge and water and heading to the table. If she thought about it real hard the stuff tasted like mashed potatoes.