Team Rocket: How the Muk are They Still Alive?

[Arcran]

Artemis smiles. "Yes, a sociopath would do that.

I didn't touch your bird, dumbass! That was Paul!" she yells as he storms off.

Artemis looks around her cell bored. Don't want to write. Maybe draw in a bit. She proceeds to get on the floor and do some push ups.

Pot calling the kettle black, don't you think? Just a sore loser. They won that fight, and you'd take every advantage you could if you had the resources they did. Perhaps, but I couldn't care less about how factual my point was. Except the sociopathy. Or is it psychopathy? I always mixed those two up. Regardless, you were lying through your teeth about the battle. Not the point. I don't really care. We failed, which annoys me, but so be it. That's the card we're delt. Still, until I figure out a way out of here, I want nothing to do with them. Rocket won't take kindly to a turncoat, and if this is their recruitment method, I have no interest in furthering this freak's goals. And what of his parting words? Of Aquilla?

She pauses at 20.

...nothing but an empty threat to illicit fear. He'd have killed me if they didn't want me around for some reason, and they'll get nothing but anger if they killed him. Besides, a Rufflet would at the very least sell for some good money. Killing would be a waste... He'd live, at least...

Artemis gives a shiver and bites her lip and tongue. She lifts the mattress off her bed and props it against the wall before practicing kicks with her free leg and punches against it. One! And. Two! And...

Yes, he seemed to be at the peak of rational just then. He'd never do anything rash.

She swings a fist and slams into a spring, throwing her off. "Muk it." She tosses the mattress back on the cot and lies down... That stupid roast Pidgey! She screams and throws it and the plate against the wall. She yanks against the chain again, even if it was futile. Artemis begins screaming obscenities in Unovan again, hitting just about anything she can reach. If she bruised a hand, all the better. She remembered how good it felt to just black out the room she stayed in before, and wished she could do the same now. She gives it a shot, even though it would likely fail.

Assuming she is uninterrupted during this, she tires after 20-30 minutes, and falls onto the bed, sweating, shaking, crying, and not feeling an ounce better. She falls asleep. Maybe whatever was blocking her powers would work its way through her system.

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As you go on your tirade nobody enters the room, leaving you in peace. As you fall asleep, you doze in dreamland, having nightmares but not of the same kind as before. The green eyes are gone; no, these dreams are purely from fear.

When you awake the daze is gone slightly; you can feel him reading your mind but your powers are still unresponsive. You are hungry as well; hungrier than you should be after so short of a rest. You can't tell how long you were out.

There is a new plate of food on the table; a roast Pidgey again, but this time with mashed potatoes to make it look like it has a Rufflet's mane.

Romeo tries to rub his eyes as he awakens.He purposefully uses the chained hand so that it makes a rattling sound. 'Oh, come now. Whose the silly little Slowpoke who chained up the cripple? It's not like I can go anywhere.'

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[roll0]

He sighs. 'Man, think this is THE second worst thing I've ever woken up to. I mean the worst is still that time when I had that threesome in Fallarbor. Don't get me wrong, the sex was awesome. But when you wake up and find you've fallen asleep in front of an angry Zangoose nest, you gotta run away fast. That's how I got this scar on my ass.'

'Oh, and sorry for throwing my food away. Mum would hand me my ass if she knew I was wasting food. Got anything else to eat before I see Anni? I haven't eating in .... how long was it anyway?'

Romeo was talking a million miles a minute. Gives his enemy less time to think. Right now, they underestimated him. They would still assume him a cripple. That and even with Romeo's legs functioning, he'd still easily be the weakest member of the group, the least threatening.

He looks around the room, noting how many people were in here, and possible disguises and any possible weapons.

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[roll1]

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The lone guard in the room shrugs at your plea, walking over and undoing the handcuffs, the thing falling away.

He gives a small chuckle at your story but continues to stare at you. You can see a very large gun on his hip.

As you look for a weapon you see something; a small syringe on a roller table by your feet. If you're right it's the medicine they give people who become violent when they begin thrashing about; the stuff that knocks them out. If you could somehow get a hold of it you might be able to inject him; with that large of a dose he'd be unconscious before he hit the floor.

You can't help but chuckle at the incompetent doctors. Leaving meds out in the open? Even you're not quite that stupid.

Hm. That is less helpful that he wanted. He picks up the chair, and props it on it's side before beginning to try and rip out a leg (mostly by alternating pulling and pushing on it) as he thought. If he could get the toilet up somehow, he could possibly work with that, but armaments first.

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After about ten minutes of work you manage to work the leg free. Just as you triumphantly hold it you hear... laughing? Outside your door.