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The Multiverse » Arcs » A Price to Pay

When a common drug dealer gets put into prison, an unexpected guest comes in for a visit. What does she have to offer?

As written by: Moonscar, Curtsive


11 pieces and 2 characters involved, written by 2 different authors.

1 places involved




So begins...

A Price to Pay


Wing CitySetting: Wing City


Clop, clop, clop, clop.

Heavy heels thonked onto the sidewalk and across the busy street on that snowy day, causing several cars to come to a screeching halt before they ran into the pedestrian. Horns honked and curses were thrown, but the high-heeled pedestrian did not scowl. She held up a hand, smiled, and gave them a friendly wave.

Everyone stared.

It wasn't just her behavior that stunned everyone, either. But she gave them no mind. She simply walked down the street, a purse in hand, to her destination. Once she came up to it, she showed her ID to several officers and had her bag checked.

"Thankye, thanke somach," said the woman to the officer, patting him heftily on the shoulder as she passed. "I really needed you tah make sure my lipstick wasn't a mini pipe bomb or somethin', y'know?"

Down into the jail she went, into the visiting area, with the booths. She sat down into a chair. This woman. With the no-sleeve black turtleneck, and the very bright, feathery pink jacket sloping off of her shoulders. That wasn't even that strange, just flamboyant. What got everyone staring was the hairstyle. Bangs so long they covered her eyes, with "vampire teeth" strands falling over her cheeks. Everything but her bangs were put into cornrows.

It was weird.
"Booth two, Mr. Nayden." a security guard bellowed, and pushed Price into the room. He was orange-clad, and still bearing a weighty pair of handcuffs. He'd been escorted by a beefy security guard with a chip on his shoulder to a fake-lacquer chair, where his shoulder was promptly pressed upon until he was seated.

"Don't need to man-handle me, Harvin'. I can sit down well by my damn self."

They were seperated by hard mesh and half-walls, rather than the conventional, tv-like 'glass and phones'. Perhaps it wasn't in the budget. Even though the guard behind him quickly dispersed to man the exit of the visiting room, everyone in it could still hear the idle chatter of, well, everyone in it.

It took a second for him to get comfortable; for Price to lay down his hefty set of cuffs on top of the allotted table and kick his legs forward and get a good look at Maggy. With a sharp breath in, he started.

"Who..."

And then, he remembered. He turned to look at the guard, who was stoic-faced and protecting the exit, still. All akin to the queen's guard.

"Ah, fuck. Harvin'? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that thing about your mom. I swear. I think I'm done here."

'Harving' ignored him.
The woman pursed her very pouty, black-painted lips as he spoke to the security officer, but soon enough they parted in a great big, toothy smile.

"Why, Prince, sweety, doncha remember me? Of course you do!" she said cheerfully, one hand on her chest, the other fluttering at him as though she thought he was just making a joke. "Doncha tease me, you know how I do with teasing. I'm kidding. You know I love it when yah do that, Mr. Nayden. I love it. I do." A hand came up to twirl one of the vampire teeth strands around her finger.

"Love the new place, by the way, but I didn't much take yah for the orange jumpsuit type. It's not really your color, y'know?"
"Price, please. Only people with giant sticks up their asses call me 'Mr. Nayden.'." he said, his eyes flitting from Harving to the woman that sat on the other side of the mesh. Thankfully.

"Well, that's what happens when you're in prison. They dress you up however they want, here. You don't exactly get a choice in color, lady. You wouldn't take me for the 'binding wrist accesories' type either, would you?" he said, and thrusted his hands apart. The cuffs on his wrists gave a resounding clang.

"Unless you've got Angelboy's head on a plate or a Capone way to break me out of here, then I'm not interested."
The smile didn't fade. In fact, it became wider.

"Oh, Price, you're such a kiddah. I love the cuffs, but I think they look bettah attached to a bedpost, don't you?" Her head tilted to the side, and she waved her hand floppily in the air and laughed. "It's a joke, Price, really. Why so serious?" Shaking her head, she clenched to the mesh with two pink fingernails.

"Listen, hon, don't worry, arrite? You may be guilty, but I love yah anyway. I think we can make bombs go off between you and me next visit. One more private, y'know? It'll be a taste of freedom! Make the walls fall down and then paint the city red. Angel's will sing, Price. They'll scream."

She beamed up to him, hands now between her knees, pleased with herself. "It'll just be a lil tit fer tat, mmkay?"
"Excuse me if I'm a little sour, considering to establish my rep in here I've got to beat up a guy with his biceps divided into asscheeks and a swastika tattooed on his eyeball, alright?" Price hissed. "And I somehow doubt you can get me out of here. It's fifteen plus. I possessed and shot someone."

He leaned back in his chair, and pressed a knuckle to his face.

"You and I'd be on better grounds if you gave that snitch a face-full of lead, though. Same offer as I gave everyone else. I might be in prison, but I still have a bank account."
The woman just had to roll her eyes underneath her thick bangs. "Price, you gotta have faith if you want to meet the angel so bad. It don't mean hardly a thing if you don't pay him a visit y'self!" She folded her legs, then tapped her fingers on her lips.

"I don't want no money from you; that ain't why I came here! If you keep up not believin' in the girl who tried so hard to see yah, well-" She lifted her fingers to brush away the right side of her bangs, just briefly, to let an eye peek out.

And there, tattooed onto the corner of her eye, were two teardrops.

"-you're gonna make me cry." The bangs fell back over the tattoo, and she clenched on the mesh again. "I've been around, Price. I ain't no flouncy whore. I've got my eye on one thing, and that's you. And I know how to get what I want where I can get it."
"Alright." he said, and brought his hand off his face. A slight smirk came to the corner of his mouth. He'd play along.

"I don't give a shit if you cry, but I gotta be there when it happens. 'Cause I felt fieworks the first time I saw you. You get me? We got to go the full mile, if you want this to work." he said, and hushed his voice. He pressed his hand to the mesh, before the security guard barked at him, and his hand lifted off of it.

"Got it?"
"I wasn't plannin' on leavin' you in the dark ever, Price. I'll be by your side no matta what. We gotta make it quick, though. One hour's the limit. How 'bout in two days?" She let her lips part a moment, as though she didn't know how to put this one in code.

"Gotta...make sure I prepare myself."
"Two days, huh?" he said, with a bemused grin. "I'll be looking forward to that, then."

He smiled at her, like he smiled at a child's macaroni doodle. Two people killed or not, breaking someone out of prison was a big deal. He wondered if she'd been in an asylum by the end of it.

"Sounds like a date."
The woman stood up, leaning into the mesh to plant her lips onto it. "Don't miss me too much while I'm gone, hun." she tittered, giving him a little wave before heading out.

As she exited, a rather malicious, ugly grin spread across her face, and a child that happened to glance at the woman burst into tears. The mother picked him up, confused.

Just another day for Maggy Dalene.