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originally posted in:EXTRAgalactical Escapades
5/7/2017 11:37:57 PM
172
[b][u]A Rocky Beginning...[/u][/b]
[i][u]J'Jaro Territory, K'Lan Labor Camp, K'Lan[/u][/i]
The feel of raindrops served as a welcome relief to those who had been laboring for hours with little rest.
The sound of rock being hacked, chiseled, and cut echoed in the air, only cut out the by the yells of pain by those who were disciplined for moving to slowly, their loads being too light, their bodies too weak.
This kind of treatment had been the life of the prisoners of this labor camp for about two months now, their group arriving after being captured at various points by their current overseers and guards, the J'Jaro.
Each had been fitted with an inhibitor collar, which served as a tool of control; misbehave, talk out of turn, work to slow, if they just felt like it, the prisoners would receive a painful shock directly to their neural pathways.
They mined precious minerals continually for fourteen hours, each day, receiving the bare minimum of what could be considered food, a break of forty five minutes, the continued working, all the while receiving the abuse that the overseers may have felt like dealing out at that moment.
This kind of heavy labor and schedule used up prisoners quickly, explaining the bi-monthly shipment of new ones.
At the moment, each was doing their daily assignment, whether it be excavating the minerals with an ion-axe, carting them towards the foundry, or melting it down for shipment as ingots. Each did what they had been doing for a month, trying to not antagonize the J'Jaro.
[spoiler]This is where EVERYONE starts. You are one of the prisoners, having at some point been taken captive, and you have been in the camp for approximately one month. Their are no chances of escape, and even thinking of it will incur the wrath of the overseers. For now, you bid your time working, and hoping to make it another day.[/spoiler]
English
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Edited by Deceiver: 5/10/2017 12:02:54 AM[spoiler]Nevermind[/spoiler]
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Edited by Kain The Slain: 5/8/2017 2:20:01 AM[i]a large majority of James' equipment besides his cybernetic arms and legs as well as the life support systems he needed to survive, including his mask had been taken. His cybernetics creaked and sparked due to lack of maintenance and no way of repairing them. He was already in almost constant pain but the abuse of the overseers didn't help his condition. Without the proper maintenance required his cybernetic systems wouldn't last much longer. But he continued working, not that he had much of a choice[/i]
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He was suddenly shoved over by a guard, who had been walking by. "What's this? Lying down on when there is still work to be done?" He tapped his wrist, a jolt of pain traveling through his body, causing him to seize up. "Get up, lesser."
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Edited by Kain The Slain: 5/8/2017 2:34:57 AM[i]He stood up after a moment. He didn't scream or make and audible sound when the electricity from the collar coursed through his body. He stood up and continued working, the pain didn't really bother him, he had already been through much worse . If he had his weapons he would gladly show the guards what true pain was. He didn't say anything back to the guard, knowing it would be in his best interests to keep his cybernetics intact as long as possible. He would need them operating properly in case a chance to escape presented itself. Though the likelihood of that happening was slim to none. [/i]
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"Better." He said in a cold voice. "Remember to look down when one of us pass by." He began walking away, most likely to harass another prisoner. The pain from the collar subsided as he did.
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[i]his face was hidden by his mask so the guards couldn't see that he was rolling his eyes. He kept working, occasionally looking around and checking his surroundings. His mask made his breathing audible to those around him. They would occasionally hear him wheeze and cough due to minor malfunctions in his life support systems[/i]
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"Try to keep it down. They hear you hacking, and they'll remove you from the mine." One of the others miners whispered to him. "They'll take your parts and dispose of the rest of you."
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Edited by Kain The Slain: 5/8/2017 3:36:43 AM[i]He whispered back to the other miner. [/i] "I have been doing what I can to fix my systems with whatever I can find here but it is no simple task. Usually I only need to make repairs every few months but the abuse of the overseers has caused severe damage to my life support system." [i]His voice was deep and raspy. It was synthesized due to his mask, making him sound somewhat robotic. [/i]
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[i]Irritations were common in the mines. The sound of ion axes colliding with minerals gave a scratchy and high sound that Anthony hated, the sparks flying in the air from each collision had a high chance of hitting his barren and grey tinted skin, but perhaps among all of these, none was as bad as seeing the damned J'Jaro. Watching, an ever present threat to him like a watchdog. So for now, the alien hastily pushed carts of minerals to and from the drop off points and loaded them as quick as he physically could. Thankfully the prosthetic limbs that replaced his legs had removed any potential tiring he would feel down there, but his back suffered from all the bending to lift. Irritations, ain't they a b*tch, Anthony knew that real damn well. [/i]
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"Your quotas have doubled." His overseer said to the surrounding miners, as well as Anthony. "Get it done, or you will not receive rations." They walked by each one their pace quickening as it did. Finally, he walked by Anthony.
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[i]Anthony wouldn't even give the alien the satisfaction of chewing him out for laziness; He quickened the pace, committing to almost a borderline jog to get the cart moving. [/i]
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The overseer grunted in satisfaction, moving on and out of the mine to harass others. His fellow prisoners breathed signs of relief that they had been spared the jolt of the collars. And continued at their pace.
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[i]Anthony had a theory; The harder you work, the less shit you get by the patrolling guards. So he used his prosthetics to make it look as if he was hustling his ass off to meet the quota, and since he felt little fatigue, it was fairly easy for him. [/i]
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His effort, it seemed, had paid off. After several more hours, each prisoner was check to see if they had met their quota; he had more than met his. For his effort, he was rewarded with a gray slime like mush in a container, accompanied by bland breaded crackers, something rarely given. He was then led to where he and 15 others shared space, Cell Block 8, where they slept, ate, and bathed in the open. Bunks were installed directly in the walls, showers lined another, and tables were bolted in the center.
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[i]"Home sweet home, 90?" The little voice in Anthony's head asked him, though he would drown it out in the thoughts of freedom he had. Anthony would sit in silence, where he solemnly ate his meal and planned. [/i]
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Around him, the other prisoners either chatted, ate what they could stomach of the 'food' or went towards the bunks to sleep off the day's pain.
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Arthur sighed. He lost track of how long he was on this dump, and he had no clue how long he'd been here. "I traded one scrap heap for another. Great." He said, shaking his head as he swung his pickaxe at the ore. Unlike most of the other prisoners, He'd done heavy labor his whole life, just to survive. He'd lived at the bottom of the barrel for as long as he could remember, so this wasn't so bad. Except for the acid burns in the morning. That sucked.
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Edited by Lordbakon: 5/8/2017 1:07:05 AM[b][i]Another man worked next to you, from his appearance having lived a similar life. His skin was tan, two large horns protruding from his head. His legs were like that of a goats, with Clive hooves that looked like they could do as much damage as the pickaxe could. Jade green tattoos littered his arms, scars littering his back. He was a Satyr, a rarer species.[/i][/b]
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As he worked, he sighed "I didn't realize we worked in a pet shelter. What's your story?" He said, chipping away quickly at the rock ahead of him
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[b][i]The man turned to him, speaking.[/i][/b] "Come a bi' closa and I'll show you."
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"I'm not falling for that. We'll keep distance until I can trust you." He said, still working
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"Probably smart on your part. We're known for having notoriously thick skulls." [b][i]He days laughing a bit.[/i][/b]
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"I made a living cutting shit apart with tools like this before I came here. You really wanna mess with the guy who knows this better than you know the ins and outs of a tin can?" he asked
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"I worked as a slave for the first 12 ish years of my life. I know my way around a slave camp. Places like this just bring back all sorts of shitty memories. Throws me out of order."
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"I worked my whole life in the ass of the universe picking my way through the scraps of assholes like them"
