Storming the Prison{Fools, Invite}

Dana wasn't used to waking up in safety and warmth. The ensuing storm around them was violent and foreboding that bloodshed was going to soak the earth, but that didn't matter. Dana wasn't afraid. Not for herself, and she felt confident about the Fool's ability to handle things when violence became violent. She sighed softly and watched Queenie roll out of bed.  Taking a moment she admired her shape as she moved to the closet. She rolled her eyes at the notion that clothes had to be draped over that beautiful body, but there was a smile on her lips as she shuffled a bit beneath the satin sheets.

A secret compartment opened up in the wall. Dana sat up and stared confused. Was this a film Noire movie. Suddenly Queenie took on the air of a black and white detective going to rescue the damn from the clutches of some mob because the 'coppers were useless.' She could all but see the cigarette dangling from her lip as she spouted some cheesy one liner. Dana slipped from the bed and quickly threw on the clothes from the night before. She wasn't exactly loving the idea of giving up this peaceful moment in her life but she was always ready for action.

Dana grabbed her MP7 and a few clips of ammo. Slinging on her own leather jacket she stuffed a few clips into her jacket pocket. Dana wasn't wearing a fools jacket.  She had her own leather jacket from the years before this, but now she kind of wished that she could be inducted as a member. She wished that she could find something that brought her a little closer to this golden haired fem fatal with the dangerous curves and even more dangerous intentions.

"So... You scared?" She asked as she pulled a pistol out of the wall and stuffed it in the back of her pants.  The words spilled from her lips casually. There was no judgment within them nor did she look down on Queenie if she was scared. She had a right to be. There was a lot on the line for her. A lot more on the line for Queenie than there was for Dana. Dana only had her personal failures at stake. She closed her eyes a moment and remembered her last team. Danny, Dalton, Barry. They all were killed under her watch. It was for reasons not her fault but still... Danny fell down a flight of stairs and broke his neck. Dalton went crazy and shot up the hospital wing of Bell Isle and Barry... Poor Barry was thrown from a helicopter.

It wasn't exactly things she could control, but she felt as if they were her failures all the same. She was looking for a bit of redemption. She wanted to actually save someone this time instead of watching them die at her feet. Dana wanted to do whatever she could to help Queenie. She didn't know much about her. SO much of her was still wrapped in this layer of mystery. If they survived this, Dana would enjoy peeling back those layers bit by bit getting to know the woman that she had fallen in with.

Back at the prison.....

Johnny had been sitting in his cell for hours. He was slouched in the corner of the room staring at the baseboard in the wall. His mind was in a fog the last few days... Something about the shit in the food here, made you numb. Mother had a habit of mixing gunpowder and psychotropic drugs into the food for its neutralizing effects.  It made captives less combative.  Made them more relaxed.  Perhaps Mother had shared this idea with the cooks at the facility, because Johnny was in a general state of distant fog every time he ate the food here.

"GUARDS! GUARDS!"  Johnny moaned.  Nothing.  No one came to see what he was screaming about.  Johnny laid on the cold floor.  He didn't have the will to get up.  He hadn't seen or heard from Lulu in some time.  He couldn't imagine what might have happened to her but he didn't entertain the idea that she might be dead.  He rejected it completely.  Instead he focused on his own misery.  He heard a squeak in the cell with him.  His eyes moved over to a mouse. It wasn't quiet in the cell it was more in the hall looking into the cell. 

Johnny's eyes lit up at the sight of it.  He was so hungry.  He had pretty much stopped eating in here. It was the food that made him feel like he was slowly loosing his grip on things.  It was the hunger that was making him slowly loose his mind.  Johnny leaned up.  He balled his fist.  Without taking his eyes off the rat in the hall he started to pound his fist into the cement floor.  Dull thuds echoed shortly around the room.  THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Johnny punched the floor until his hand crumpled and began to bleed.  The rat only stared at him curiously as he watched from the hall. 

Johnny stretched out a bloody hand.  Blood ran down the length of his fingers and dripped off the tips of them.  Small, circular droplets of red hit the cold floor.  The rat's noise twitched in excitement.  It could smell the blood.  "Come on little guy.... Come on buddy." Johnny encouraged.  The rat edged a little closer and hopped over the low bar into the cell.  "That's right, come get a taste."  Johnny said holding his fingers lower to the ground.  The red dripping into his cell and his hand screaming in pain.  Johnny's face was scrunched up.  His hand was killing him like a son of a bitch but he bit his lip and tried to keep his voice pleasant. 

The rat moved a little closer it was now about to the center of the room.  "Just a little more." Johnny urged as he wiped his hand on the floor smearing blood everywhere.  That's right you furry little bastard get a little closer.  When the rat stupidly dared to accept this generous offer Johnny lunged.  He tried to dive on the rat and pull him in to hungry teeth.  Johnny was going to eat the little fucker.  Meat was meat right?  The rat scurried away into the darkness offering several squeaks at it retreat.  "SON OF A BITCH!!!!!" Johnny screamed lunging at the bars.  The rat's tail was only inches from his grasp as Johnny's arm was extended through the bar but kept away from his agile prey.  Johnny's hand was broken and his stomach was still empty.  Fuck this place.  Fuck everything about this place.  Johnny thought as he laid on the cold floor.

Eddie wasn't happy. Eddie didn't agree with the course of action. Then again. Eddie wasn't the type to fuck up either.  Eddie had never needed to call the club for backup. That was a fact he was actually kind of proud of. He handled his own shit. He never got in over his head and when it came to retaliation... Well he was happy to share the violence with equally eager bloodthirsty hands. That wasn't the problem here. Eddie stood with his back to Xander. He had a duffle back on the dresser and he had shells lining the bottom of it. He placed a sawn off shotgun inside and a few pistols from the sock drawer.

Without turning around to face her he spoke. His voice was emotionless and cold, though his words seemed contradict his tone. " We save these Fools. Then we'll make it right with you."  Eddie's eyes rolled up to meet his reflection in the mirror on the vanity in front of him.  His eyes were cold.  They were pale blue orbs of angry fire.  He was going on the rescue like everyone else.  He was also going on a retaliation.  As pissed as he was you better believe he was going to take it out on the assholes inside this prison. 

They were going to pay for his frustration just as much as they were for taking their members.  Eddie was a club guy through and through.  If it wasn't for his feelings for Xander he might have even voted the other way.  The fact was though.. He did have these feelings.  He didn't know if they were even felt back towards him.  They had that moment in the bar together but it wasn't a commitment.  It was a drunken blur.  For all Eddie knew Xander still very much cared about her fiancé and sleeping with him had been a mistake.  That might have been true, but it didn't change how he felt.  He was quiet and brooding, but she was the one person he always felt he could open up a little with.  Even if it was just a little.  She was always the one person he gravitated towards. 

Zipping up the duffle back he grabbed the handles and held hoisted it off the dresser.  He held it at his side as he turned to face her.  He didn't offer her a smile.  He knew she was hurting.  She was tough, but she was less synical than the rest of them.  She wasn't a dangerous outlaw or a crazy broad like Lulu.  She wanted more  out of life. Normalcy.  A family.  She wanted things that normal people wanted.  Eddie doubted she wanted all of this.  He stood across the room from her staring at her a moment.  He wished he could have stepped away from this life and been the one to give her there, but his bond to this club was to deep.  A fool was just who he was.  "Don't worry.  I'll be back." He said and turned to leave Xander's room.

Buster stood in front of the broken mirror in his bathroom. It was shattered beyond repair. Buster hadn't bothered to replace it. There was a slither of mirror where he could see his reflection staring back at him. The cool distant eyes staring back at his calm demeanor. His face was lax. The slick lines and angular muscles of his hawk-like features the epitome of calm.  The sound of the jukebox in the bar spilled into his room. The sultry sounds of broken dramatic song.  Buster reached into his jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a comb.

Reaching up slowly he began to slick his hair back.  He was on another galaxy.  He was light years away from the panic that should be strangling right now. Buster was all rage and ego contained in a tiny package.  He fully expected to die today.  He was going to look his best.  The comb slid easily through his wet hair.  The sound of the faucet fell deaf on his ears as he ran the comb under the water.  Moving the comb back through his hair he mad sure every hair was in place for his big date.  He had a date with Omega.  He was going cut his tongue from his head and shove it down his throat.  He was going to slowly watch him choke on it. 

The bathroom was cast in the same florescent whitewash.  It was pale blue and sent ill light shadows dancing along the dirty walls.  Buster was wearing a plain white shirt.  A pair of gray jeans and his pointy toed cowboy boots.  He reached over and grabbed his jacket from on top of the toilet.  He slung it over his shoulders without taking his eyes off the mirror.  He wanted to remember his face in that moment.  He wanted to burn that imagine into his mind.  It was the face of a man who had no fear.  It was the face of a man with nothing to loose.  It was the face of Buster.  The man he was always supposed to be.  The idea of being better.  Being Benny... It just wasn't meant for this world.  Nobility and goodness wrapped up in a creamy soft center?  That was horseshit.  Buster was going to die the same way he lived.  An asshole.

Buster moved into the bedroom. The room was dark. Black out curtains stopped the light from breaking in.  The room was dark and damning.  The walls were covered in graffiti but there was new graffiti on the walls too.  A crude picture of Omega drawn on the wall opposite Buster's bed.  Buster had been throwing a knife at it for the last three hours.  While everyone else was preparing, making arrangements, etc.  Buster had been throwing a knife into the drywall and  going to retrieve it only to repeat the process.  There was stab marks all over his face most in the forehead of the large drawing.  The portrait was crudely drawn.  Exaggerated features that didn't truly exist like overly bushy eyebrows razor sharp teeth and a big honking clown nose.  Buster's immaturity surfaced a bit as he drew the depiction.

Buster's switchblade was stuck in his cartoon Omega's forehead.  He walked over and pulled it out.  He smirked at the picture.  Omega had X's for eyes and his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth.  The picture took up a good portion of the space.  It was the size of an actual human head.  Buster shoved the knife down into his back pocket after retreating the blade.  The song on the jukebox continued to play.  The melancholy sounds mirrored what he was feeling, though he wasn't really listening.  He felt broken.  He felt robotic.  He felt like just a machine carrying out a final act of violence.  He had brought so much violence into this world it only made sense that he went out violent. 

Surprisingly Buster didn't think about Megan as he get ready to face his mortality.  He didn't think about her much at all in these moments.  He was trying to stay clear headed. Focused. Undeterred by false hope and silly ideals.  He was going in to retrieve a body, or someone close to death. He didn't wrap himself up in a security blanket of sentimentality because that wouldn't do a damn bit of good.  He was going to make that place crumble at the foundation and bring the whole fucking place down.  There was a duffle bag on Buster's bed.  He roughly yanked open a desk draw and grabbed a few clips of ammo he had spared.  The violent motion of his drawer opening caused his freshly combed hair to askew and sit unperfected. 

Buster tossed the ammo into the bag.  He moved over to a poster on the wall that had a picture of a 67 Chevy Nova.  He ripped it down off the wall without a second though.  behind the picture was a large hole in the wall.  Buster had a few pistols and some stacks of cash in there.  He grabbed the pistols and shoved one in the back of his pants.  The other went into the bag.  He paused a moment to look at the money and reflect on what a waste it was.  It was his emergency stash and he never got a chance to spend it.  That's what saving for dreams got you.

Buster could hear the sounds of just the music now.  He listened to the instrumental and it was a somber lullaby.  The reverbs echoed in his ears as he found the shotgun from behind his dresser make it's way into the bag along with a box of shells. Buster zipped up the bag in one motion.  His eyes still vacant cold.  Even within solitude he wore that mask like a fucking shield.  That mask of his vacant expression.  Buster pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth.  Pulling out some matches he struck one and lit up a cloud.  Shaking his wrist to put it out he dropped it on the floor and looked up at the ceiling. 

Buster blew the cloud of smoke out towards the ceiling and sighed.  Suddenly Queenie was on his mind.  Not Megan, but Queenie.  This wasn't about Queenie, but damn it if she didn't brute force her way into his head.  He felt like he should say something to her, but he had no words. What was he supposed to say? He was sorry? That he was an asshole?  She knew these things already.  Empty words didn't do anyone a whole lot of good. There might have been a time when Queenie could have been good for him. That was memory lane closed for construction.  He dipped his finger in the what if of Queenie and felt nothing.  His pulse had raced and his excitement grew, but there was no deeper connection than physical attraction.

 Have you ever met someone who was so obviously your polar opposite in every way?  The Ying to your Yang? The Light to your Dark?  That was Megan.  She was everything he had ever been searching for without knowing it.  She was the very thing he needed to rise above the status of hustler prick.  She transcended him to a higher plain of humanity.  A plain that he never thought he could even touch with a 10 foot pole.  He was just better with her.  Partly because he wanted to guard her, protect her against the world, but he changed tiny things about himself.  From the way he acted, to the things he said.  He wasn't heartless and she showed him that.  Taylor before her was an experiment.  Getting hitched when you thought you were going to die tomorrow wasn't commitment it was a joke.  It was Buster wading out into the kiddy pool to see if he could handle a deeper connection without water wings.  Turns out, he could... Just not with Taylor.

Buster took only one more puff of his cigarette before he dropped it.  He snuffed out it's life with the toe of his boot and grinded it into the dirty carpet.  Buster picked up the bag and headed out the door to his bedroom. Every step he took made his hair bounce, become a little more messy.  He didn't care. His mind was on other things. His mind was on Omega. His mind was bouncing between the possibilities of bringing back a corpse to bury or being reunited with the only person that ever made him worth a damn.  Buster's boots echoed over the sound of the depressing music.  His eyes cold and vacant like they had been so many times before.  He didn't bother to look at any of the other Fool's as he made his way out the front door.  He threw his bag in the trunk of car and climbed in the driver's seat.  Buster saw the rest of the Fool's coming out the door. 

His hand moved to the glovebox and he opened it up.  The little light inside shined on something small, black and square.  Buster reached inside and pulled it out.  It was a Holy Bible. It was the source of most of Megan's courage. Today it was going to be his courage too.  Buster didn't know what the fuck he was about to step into.  He only knew that it was going bloody.  One of the commandments said 'Thou shalt not kill...' Well, maybe I gotta work on that one. Buster thought. Buster knew that after this he was never going to be the same again.

Johnny was alive! Or at least he had been when he had been taken from this place. Emily couldn't believe it. All this time. All these years she thought she was alone and Johnny had been doing what Johnny always did. He was hanging out at his club house. The fact that she never looked only made her cheeks burn red with annoyance, but that didn't matter now. He was alive and they were going to get him. Emily wasn't going to take a passive role in this. No way in hell. She was going to be part of the team that brought him back.

Emily found Carson drinking at the bar. He had a pistol sitting in front of him and 6 shots all lined up in a row. He threw them back one at a time. Emily couldn't believe it. What the fuck was he doing? Johnny needed them and he was getting drunk?!?!?  "Carson what the hell?" She cried out. Carson turned and smiled at her. He wasn't going to get drunk. The shots weren't all for him. They were for each of the fools as they headed out. He was going to offer one to Buster, but the boy seemed to be on a mission. "Relax Emily we're going to get Johnny." Carson seemed to be fully in control of his faculties. Emily stared at him a moment.

"I want a gun." She finally demanded. Carson almost laughed. "No." He said abruptly. "Why not?!?" "Because you don't know how to fucking use one. Trust me Emily... Johnny is Family. We don't leave family to rot." Emily knew there was no use in arguing. Even before the shit hit the fan, Carson's word was law. She thought about stowing away on one of the trucks or something, but she knew that was just crazy and reckless. Emily started to turn and leave and Carson grabbed her hand. He looked her in the eye and spoke softly. "Trust me Emily. We got this."

Emily nodded and smiled lightly at Carson before turning and disappearing somewhere in another part of the club. She stopped when she found preacher. Everyone was getting ready. Getting armed. She found Preacher doing the same thing. He was going over his weapons for the fight to come.  Emily stood in his doorway. She leaned on the doorframe and looked around. She saw no one but the two of them. "Gimme a gun. I'm coming with you guys."

The gates opened with slow whining creaks. Delilah stepped out across the rubble. The gravel crunched beneath the knee high boots she wore under her dress. Delilah had on a yellow flowery dress that stopped at the knees. She had on a light yellow tank top and a gray jean jacket. Across her back was her ever present katana. Delilah was armed, and armed heavily. She had an Ak in her hand. The strap dangled loosely around as she pointed it at the ground. Delilah looked out over the vast expanse of the world in front of her. Also on her back was a small bag filled with tear gas grenades. Delilah had a gas mask hanging from her hip. It was attached to a belt that had bullets sitting in the loops running all the way across. On the opposite side was a holder with a revolver.

Delilah narrowed her eyes as her head slowly turned from side to side. She was thinking which way they might have run. Paige that poor sweet deluded girl said they escaped from the tunnels and Delilah had a pretty good idea where that ended up. Behind her was a small army of children. They were wearing their prison uniforms. Each of them wearing a gas mask over their faces. Their identities didn't matter. None of it mattered.  They had no identities anymore.  They were all children under the watching eye of Mother.  Delilah started to walk.  Her children followed her without a word. 

Omega wasn't going to offer his men for this task.  It was Mother's children who escaped. It was Mother who had to find them and bring them back.  Mother could have sent her children out to get the job done, and in all likelihood they would have brought them back and that would have been the end of it.  The end of Analia and Dean too.  Delilah was angry though.  She walked down the street with a permanent scowl on her face.  She could not abide by disrespectful children.  Ungrateful little beasts who knew no manners!  Delilah was not a hard woman.  She was loving and fair, but ungrateful children really boiled her blood.  She gave up everything.... SACRFICED EVERYTHING so these children could know love.  For them to reject her and run away?  No, that is not something she would stand for.  She would bring them back.  She would bring them back or bring back their heads.

Delilah and her children moved down the street with her at the helm.  Along the way she had time to think.  Time to think about the punishment for running away.  The punishment was not always the same.  Each child was different.  Different considerations had to be made. Every child was special and unique and she treated them as such.  Delilah reached behind her back and drew her sword.  With the other hand she still aimed her Ak at the ground.  She swung the sword in a backhanding motion and chopped off a walkers head.  She kept moving.  One of her children fell out of rank as the others kept marching.  The left behind child pulled a knife and ended the dead one's suffering and then quickly caught up.  Mother left a trail of walkers with slashes left and right.  Heads rolled across the street as she made her way down the road.  Each time one of the children stopped to stab it. 

No words needed to be spoken.  These were loyal children. They did as Mother asked. They knew her wishes and they filled them to the letter.  There were ten of them with her. Each of them as brave as they were loyal. Each o them ready to die to help Mother find Brother Dean and Sister Analia.  Delilah stopped a moment.  She stood in front of a dilapidated old house on the side of the road after some time walking. A smile pressed it's way into her wrinkled lips.  Delilah pulled the gas mask from her hip and slipped it on.  She swung the bag over her shoulder and pulled out a tear gas bomb.  Pulling the pin she tossed it through the window without a word.  The children looked on in silence.  All of them standing in mob formation behind their leader. 

The grenade broke through the window in a shower of glass and rolled slowly across the floor.  Gas spilled from the canister as Mother slowly made her way up the front porch steps.  Her slender hand gliding across the splintery railing. She took the steps one at a time.  Taking her time to savor the anticipation building in her body. It was EXCITING! The thought of getting them back made her sexually aroused as her hand gripped the bannister at the top of the stairs.  Her children stood on the lawn watching until she gave the order.  Delilah grabbed the front door handle and turned it.  She pushed the door open. It swung open slowly with a groaning creak. It was pitch black inside.  Despite the brightness of the day it was dark inside.

The curtains and blinds drawn to cast out the light.  To give the residents more privacy for the evil things they were going to do inside.  Delilah was still smiling as she stepped inside into the smoke.  Her boots echoed over the rotting hardwood.  She stepped through the threshold and listened closely.  She heard no coughing.  She saw no signs of movement, though she did see something.  She moved to the center of the room where there was a body on the ground.  She walked over slowly.  ThUCK! THUCK! THUCK! THUCK! THUCK! The sound of her footsteps cried out in the silence.  She turned the body over with her foot and saw that it was......Debra. She had turned.  She turned her head to the side and admired the killing blow to the head.  You can't be saved once you've turned and been killed.  There was no amount of Mother's love that was saving you from that. Delilah sheathed her sword and snapped her fingers.

Her children came inside the house. Mother's eyes moved over the rest of the scene.  There was a body by the door.  There was bloody handcuffs chained to the radiator. Her children came in the room and she turned to face them.  "Find a vehicle, this one is important.  Load her body and someone bring her back to Omega. The rest of you... Check the rest of the house." Delilah said.  The last of the gas had spilt from the canister.  The fumes of it were still heavy in the air though it aired out quickly through the broken window and the open door.  Delilah pulled her gas mask off and sat down in the dark corner of the room. She sat in a dusty armchair. Her blonde hair hung in her face hiding her aggravation.  She stared blankly at the wall ahead of her, off in her thoughts.  Her anxious fingers gripped at the chair arm causing her hand to ache.  "Where are you children?" She said quietly in a nasty vicious snarl.  in the dark as her children carried out their tasks.

Mickey was sitting alone in his project car. The car he had been working on forever. He stared at the pistol in his hand and somehow he knew that today was going to get bloody. He didn't want it to. Mickey was always the arbiter of non violence, but in this case it was what had to happen. Mickey knew that it was only going to get bloodier. After this they had to hit the cannibals they were putting out a lot of fires. Mickey still wanted to just run away with Missy. Run away and have non of this be their problems anymore. He knew after Joanna's death that wasn't going to happen. Missy wouldn't leave her grieving brother when she thought he needed her. She wouldn't leave Aunt Lulu and uncle Johnny when they were in trouble.

Mickey sighed and got out of the car. He tucked his pistol in the back of his pants and headed inside to find Missy. She would be in her room more than likely. She would be locked away from everything going on trying to find comfort in her solace. It wasn't Mickey's ideal place to go. He hated those damn lizards, but he knew this was important. He had mostly avoided Missy because he had no idea what to say. He had no idea how to console her. She had been so sheltered from loss and grieve living in this place that he was dreading having to see that sadness on her face.

Still he made his way through the club and passed Carson who told him to take a shot on the way by. Mickey grabbed a shot glass and threw it back. Sitting the glass back on the counter he continued on with his mission without so much as a second of pause more. He approached Missy's door and slowly opened it. He found her there in her room. Surrounded by the comfort of her lizards. Mickey smiled at her. He didn't feel like smiling, but it was for her benefit. "We'll bring them back babe. I promise." He said closing the door behind him. They didn't really have time for this. Everyone was leaving and they were leaving any minute now but Mickey had to see that she was ok before he left.  "Hey..." Mickey started "Missy I..."  Before he could finish his sentence Carson was banging on the door.  "Zip up your fly blue eyes we gotta go we're moving our right now let's go!"  Mickey sighed.  He had so much more he wanted to say.  "We'll talk more when I get back."  Mickey said opening the door and stepping out into the hall.  "I love you Missy." He said as he closed the door behind him.

The fools were all locked and loaded.  All of them were armed to the teeth and ready to roll.  They piled up in their vehicles.  Buster was driving solo.  He was blasting some death metal to psych himself up.  Mickey rode with Carson.  Eddie drove with Mouse.  Julie rode with Will and the rest of the fools piled into cars, Dennis and Preacher everyone got ready to throw their balls to the wall ready to do anything to get Johnny and Lulu back.  This was likely a suicide mission yet the fools were ready to pay that price.  Each and every one of them were ready to toe that line for a brother.  Except Mickey who just wished he could run away with his Queen.