What happens in prison stays in prison -Kale,Nitya

What happened so far…

Nitya, the daughter of a fishing supplies store owner, and Nick, the wanderer, who is now making a solid living as a fisherman have become close friends and during their times out on the boat even more. Nick decides to put ‘using girls to his advantage’ behind and falls for Nitya.
During an unfortunate incident with a shark the young wanderer finds himself struggling for his life and has to have emergency surgery where one kidney gets removed. Here his real identity comes out and he finds himself on the run together with the girl, who trusts him…
Their run lasts two weeks when first Nitya gets captured (and later released) and then Nick.

Rped in “Random meeting and blood”:

As if my aweful situation wasn't enough one of the peace keepers feels the urge to hit me with his gun against my cheek, which burnst instantly but still doesn't faze me now that I'm in their hands. Being smacked around is probably going to be the fun part.
Suddenly they are moving faster, more or less pull me to their vehicle which is the strangest thing since I've never been inside of one before. The engine purrs to live as they push me in a seat and lock me to a bar on the side. My eyes try to catch another glimpse of Nitya, who has dissapeared in the crowd as we moved away from it but I can't see her anymore so I let my eyes drop to the floor as the slow movements give away that we're driving.
At least they aren't killing me on the spot.
Silently I wonder what they have planned. What will they do to me? Whatever it might be I'm determined not to give up my saviour. Never.
Half an hour later we arrive in Jamestown where the detention center is. Everybody knows the dark grey windowless walls even if they've never set foot inside.
Only for a very brief moment I look up at the walls that are towering high above me and are guarded by armed men on towers. I know I will never leave these walls again without their consent.
Instinctively I push back against them when the 3 meter high steels doors open but get forced to walk inside with them. There are three other men inside a small room waiting to get 'processed' as well. Briefly I wonder what their crimes might be. Are they fence hoppers as well? Or are their crimes even smaller? Judging from the one man's creepy features and grim expression I'd say he's done worse than I have but who knows. He might as well be innocent. It wouldn't matter in here.

A number of commands follow that we're supposed: Hand over your belongings, undress, shower.
While they search me for weapons I ask. "When am I going to have a trial?"
But the only answer I get is. "First we have to safely determine who you are and then you'll be punished accordingly to your crimes. There is no trial."
I gasp when I hear that. How can there be no trial? No evidence, no self defense? Does Panem really determine what I've done wrong and what they will do to me without any chance of fighting it?
"What do you mean?" I stop and stare at the man instead of following his command to get rid of my dirty clothes.
Instead of an answer they simply grab me and do it for me while I struggle against their hands even though I don't stand a chance and am just inflicting more pain to my wound. When I finally in my birth suit they finally realize that I'm bleeding. One look is enough to tell me that all the running and jumping has done me no good but opened up the scar from the surgery at the bottom end again. Blood is running down to my hip and then trails slowly down my right thigh. I can feel my gut drop and my knees get weak once more.

From some corner of the room I can hear a distorted voice shout a command. "Send in a medic. The order was to bring him in unharmed. Who acted against that?" While I search for the source of the voice which seemed to be coming from the ceiling I notice that my vision is becoming increasingly blurry. Maybe passing out wouldn't be such a bad action right now. For some reason I want to stay alert though. I'm not going to give in to them just like that.

Behind me the other two prisoners are being shoved into another room where they get scanned for their identity and then scrubbed down. The medic came in to examine the captive. Meanwhile, the peacekeepers that had brought him in were being grilled. "The order was unharmed! Now, who did this?" None of the peacekeepers spoke for a moment. Finally, one of the older peacekeepers spoke. "We don't know. We were the second ones on the scene. The first peacekeepers that went after him were detained by a trap. We only found him in the house." The superior officer made a snarl in the back of his throat. "You really expect me to believe that?" he asked menacingly.

At that moment, one of the guys in charge of the prisoners' records came in. "What?" snapped the peacekeeper. "Sorry for interrupting sir, but we have some information on this guy. The coat guard reported that he had to have a kidney removed upon arrival to their base." That was all he said before going back out. The superior looked at the records in his hand and nodded. "You all got lucky this time," he told them.

The medic was examining Nick. He pressed here and there and cleaned up the bleeding. It was obvious that this was an older wound that had been healing. There didn't seem to be any infection, but he was definitely going to need some attention. He remained silent as he continued to look the guy over.
Standing up I endure the examination and do get some satisfaction because the pks are getting in trouble because I'm bleeding. It would put a smile on my face if I wasn't in so much trouble myself so my expression remains stern, desperate even.
It doesn't take long for them to figure out that the bleeding comes from the scar that the surgery left and is not to blame on any of them for that reason. I get cleaned and wrapped up which I endure without moving a muscle or any flinching. The fading vision and hearing however does worry me but I'm not about to admit that to them.

Then they 'process' me. I get scrubbed down to prevent that I'm bringing dirt and contamination into their facility. They shave my head because my hair could bring in lice and put me in plain white clothes. Now I look like one of them-almost.





With my clothes, my hair, heck even mu dirt they humiliate me, they take every bit of personality from me which they can without peeling the skin off my back. I feel shameful and naked, even a little broken and most of all fearful. They have me exactly where they want me.

A prick in the finger. Then a small droplet of blood on a computer reader gives away my true identity.
"Er, sir, there seems to be a mistake here. This man's name is not Nick Travis. It's Nick..."
With a frown the superior fixes his gaze on the small screen that also shows a picture of me...as a child. His eyes flicker back to me but I avert my gaze. Maybe this is my chance. Maybe they think they've got the wrong guy.

The seconds drag on and on while I wait for them to figure out for themselves whether I'm the Nick wanderer they are looking for. My vision swims before my eyes while I'm forced to stand and stare ahead.
"It's him, you fool." The older one announces. "He changed his name and boy oh boy does he have a long record."
It almost sounds like admiration when he reads my spreadsheet like a story from a history book. "Seems like our wanderer here has been crossing districts for almost ten years now. Gambling, impersonation, theft....if I add up those years in the hole I'd say you'll never see the light of day again, boy."
His eyes are sparkling with misplaced anger when he fixes them on me but I choose to avert my gaze. Not that I'm ashamed for what I've done but I know there is no use in discussing my crimes or not crimes with this man. He would never understand.
"You got the wrong guy." I mutter but he simply shakes his head and tells me. "The computer says you are the guy."
I'm not sure why but I can feel a wave of nausea come on and can barely keep myself from throwing up right on his shows while my vision briefly goes out.
I stumble forward and hear them say.
"Take him away."

At least I get to lay down when they throw me in my cell. A tiny space with a matress on the ground and a hole that stink like hell.
Right now I couldn't care less. I'm about to loose every bit of self controll, be it from exhaustion or the prospect of never seeing the light of day or Nitya again. I slump down on the matress that seems somewhat clean and stare at the bars that are closing in front of my eyes.
Why does she mean so much more than all the other girls. So much that I risked getting thrown in here for her.

The peacekeepers watched the new prisoner as he went through all the steps that came along with being thrown in the detention center. A few times they did handle him a bit more roughly than they normally would have, but this guy had been giving them trouble for too long. He needed to know that they ruled here and that there was no hope for him. There was no hope for anybody behind these walls.

Admittedly he is not in the best shape. Fortunately, the medic has promised that he will be ready for his moment in front of district 4. Fortunately no trouble came from his wound opening as it was an old one and he had decided to run. Yes, things were going splendidly now. Pretty soon he would be just a memory in their mind, if even that.

"Has the platform been taken care of?"
"Yes."
"This is the last time a wanderer comes through here."

Before they lock my cell I overhear them talking about a platform and this being the last time a wanderer came through here. That sounds an aweful lot like they want to make an example of me. The image of a platform lingers in my mind because it sounds so much like execution. Yet I tell myself to remain calm and that jumping to conclusions will not help me. My hands however don't listen to me and won't stop shaking while I stare up at the grey ceiling.

Then silence fills my cell, the hallway, the damn detention center. I hate this silence. I'd rather hear somebody complain than nothing at all.
the next few hours I fill with sleeping a little to regain some strength and then listen to more 'nothing'.

I can't help but run through the options. What will they do to me? Hang me? Shoot me? or will they be cruel and torture me first. The best version I can think of is getting whipped publicly and then thrown back in here for the rest of my life. If that's the best...

I can't help the fear that gets a tight grasp on my chest with it's cold, clammy fingers and squeezes tight without letting go.

Forcing myself to think of happier times I let my thoughts drift to the boat but have to think about Nitya. I'm thankful I got to see her when I was arrested because that means they let her go. At least she's free. It's only a small consolation but it's there. Yet tears fill my eyes when I think about her and how we could have been together. How we could have lived and loved, maybe even more.
The same sadness and desperation takes over when I burry my face in my hands to hide my tears. If they've installed some sort of surveillance I will not give them the satisfaction of watching me break.

There was a camera in all the cells to keep an eye on the prisoners. They didn't want any of them trying to harm themselves. They had to face whatever punishment had been given them. For their newest prisoner, it had not been fully decided other than that it was going to be public. A stage had even been built in the center of the district especially for the viewing. There had been some other considerations that they had taken as well, but some of them were not set as of yet.

The statement from the girl he had escaped with had arrived. While most of the peacekeepers attributed the get away to the naivety of a young girl, one or two were a little skeptical. However, it did not seem likely that anybody would come and risk their lives for somebody they barely knew. Still, it would be good for everybody when this whole thing was over with.

The prisoner definitely seemed stronger than most, but in the end they felt sure he would crack. Not many could last behind these walls. There was too much nothing. It was the best way to take away sanity among other things.

The hours drag on and on after I wake up from a restless sleep. The little light, that falls through a gap in the wall that's barely big enough for a mouse to squeeze through, has faded to grey. So I'm staring in the dark. Only a few things are visible. The corners, my matress and my own hands and feet.
Carefully I feel under the detention clothes to test whether the bleeding has stopped. The bandage is slightly damp but it's not running down any more. For now that's a relief.
I sigh into the emptiness of my cell and clothes my eyes.

More hours pass until a small window in my cell door gets opened. Instantly I get up to see what's going on. A glass of water gets passed in by a guard.
"Drink."
My mouth is dry and my throat hoarse from the chase and no drink afterwards yet I tell the man. "Not thirsty."
"Drink." He demands in a harsher tone and I reply very politely. "No, thank you."
A second later the door gets unlocked and the same man pushes me against the wall pins my chest down with his forearm and pushes the glass against my lips. The hard plastic connects with my teeth making me fear he'll knock them out. Next thing I know half of the water enters my mouth, the other half goes down my shirt. Who does this ass think he is? I will drink when I want to. So I spit it right back out on the ground beneath my feet.
As thanks he whacks me across the face with his stick and growls. "Next time I'll bring the funell!"
My cheek burns red hot but I don't give him the satisfaction of touching it or any sort of acknowledgement or his actions or words.

When he's gone and the door locked however I slide down the wall and run my head over my shaved , prickly head. Why did I put up a fight? It will only make things worse?
I guess that's who I am.

The peacekeepers had been watching him closely. There was plenty of fight in this one, and he wasn't caving the way many of the others did. He still seemed strong and very capable of making decisions to disobey and/or fight back against them. Of course, that wasn't really a smart decision; nobody went against the capitol or the peacekeepers. However, it did show them that perhaps they weren't being hard enough on him. Yes, he was supposed to make it to the reaping, but they didn't like that he was fighting so much.

"Think we should do anything more to him? Break him down a little?"
"I don't know, it might be good for the people to see what happens to a fighter."

The rest of the evening or night...I'm not sure what time of the day it really is because I'm too wound up to sleep even though my body feels limp...I spent in memories with Nitya. She's the best memory I have and I want to surround myself in it to stay upbeat in this environment that is trying to beat me down.
I can't help the occassional disturbance by somebodies lonely cries or screams for help. They scare me each time even though they are to be expected.

It's dark and I'm tired but I don't really dare to sleep plus the cold creeping through the thick walls is keeping me up. I wrap my arms around myself and draw my knees up to my chest to maintain my body heat but chills start creeping down my spine.

When the sound of the window in the door is audible in the dark and a ray of light shines in I wake from an uneasy, restless sleep. It must be a few hours later because the light through the small hole in the wall is a lighter shade of grey now.
Again a hand holds a cup of water and demands that I drink it.
"Not again." I mutter with my voice cracking.



Taking away the prisoners' ability to choose when they drank was something that had been devised by the Capitol. Controlling even the most basic need was something they wanted to do to show that no matter what, the Capitol was the thing controlling all of the districts. Yes, they let the people have hope, but the Games were enough to prove that they were really dependent. Here the control was even worse. Depending on the prisoner, more and more things were taken from them.

Nobody had really bothered to mention to the wanderer what fate was going to befall him. The way he was to be taken care of had still yet to come on, but the end result was the same no matter the way. The guy had to know it was coming. In addition to the execution, they planned on watching the crowd to see any reactions that might be out of place. If there were any other wanderers or anything of that nature, this was sure to smoke them out.

Now, another guard headed into the prisoner's cell. It was dinner time.

My body is shivering slightly from the wet cold in the cell. The scratchy brown blanket doesn't provide much warmth.
I watch the arm with the cup of water disappear and the hole get closed but just when I think I won the door gets unlocked and in come two guards with the cup and as far as I can tell in the darkness of the cell some food.
"Lights on in 19." One of the yells and a moment later blinding overhead lights get switched on. Even though I shield my eyes from the brightness the momentarily blind me and give the men a chance to grab a hold of me.
As hungry as I am food from these men seems unacceptable for me. I guess I'm not starved enough but it turns into something bad as soon as it is in their hands.
"Last warning. Drink and eat." They demand while they pin me down.
When my eyes finally adjust to the sudden light I grit my teeth and shake my head but refuse to speak. I'm not going to do these bastards any favours. I'm pretty sure I know what they'll do to me anyhow. Whatever they do, they will not break me...I think before a fist connects with the healing wound in my side and makes me gasp for air.
I work through the pain while they hold me in place and shake my head again. If only they knew that their attempts to rule over me only make me more stubborn and my will stronger.

Nothing was working with this guy. What could he be holding on to? There didn't seem to be connections of any kind in this district. He had gained some reputation for sleeping his way around, but it didn't seem like any of those ladies were ones that he'd stuck around for. There had to be something that was keeping him from breaking like the others. Perhaps he was just a prideful and strong person, but they had seen tougher people crumble. There was just something about him that was keeping him strong. When he refused to eat again, he got another punch to the gut and a whack to the temple. Their faces were screwed up in anger. "You better eat or we'll make you," one of them said.

There wasn't time to wonder on it though. A message was expected at any moment that would disclose in what way this man was to be executed. The other decision to be made was when to let him know that his days were numbered.
Beating me is the least horrible thing they can do to me. Sure, it makes me double over and wince in pain. But it's just momentary and subsides after a minute or two. Again I refrain from touching my cheek even though it burns and feels like they split the skin this time.
Again the urge me to eat but I grit my teeth, slowly look up and them in they eye before I press out. "Make me!"
No doubt they will but I feel like giving them a run for their money.
I hold their ugly gazes wondering what might be going on in one of their heads. Do they really feel what they're doing is just?
"I never hurt anyone, you know?" I state...not sure why.

The peacekeepers did not like being challenged. They would make him eat by force, but why not play with his head a little too? He had to know that they could make him do what they wanted. However, what he says to them is a bit unexpected. Still, one of the peacekeepers knew what to say while the others remained silent. "Is that a fact? How about all those poor girls you conned? How about the one that we caught trying to help you?" His comment made the others smirk.

Then, one took hold of his head. "We can do this a few ways. We can make you open your mouth or we can stuff a tube down you. Have a preference?" he asked with an evil grin. One way or another this guy was going to do what they wanted. It just wouldn't do to have somebody this strong against the Capitol.

I’m afraid. There’s no doubt about that. To be honest I’m ready to piss my pants because I know they can do whatever they want to me and given my past I deserve some of it, too. Yet I won’t allow them to break me. Whatever they will do I’m not theirs and never will be. As much as they’re trying to in still fear, I’m going to show them that I’m not giving in. I owe that to myself.
“Whatever I did was consensual.” I claim even though I know that none of the girls would have let me in their homes if they had known I’d be gone within a few days. None of the fathers would have opened their pockets and stealing certainly wasn’t consensual. Depp down I know I did wrong and am willing to accept some form of punishment. The wandering however is nothing wrong in my mind. It’s just the capitol being worried about people getting to much information.
“What am I being accused off?” I demand to know and shoot them a look that could kill while I completely disregard their command to open my mouth and eat.

A moment later cold strong fingers grab a hold of my shaved skull and I know I’m in trouble so I clench my teeth together as hard as I can and try to wriggle my head out of the grasp.

"Say that if it helps you sleep at night," one of the keepers fired back. He and the rest glared at the prisoner in front of them. "I think you know that already. Besides we are the ones that ask the questions, not you." This guy was really starting to get to them. Had they not been ordered to keep him in fairly good condition, they might have considered being a bit more rough. "Just so you know, I'd watch what you say. Wouldn't want others suffering for you would you?" one of them asks.

The guy struggles, but it is no use. The keepers are strong and have the numbers on their side. One holds his skull and another begins to pry open his jaw. None of it is done with care, and the peackeeper prying his jaw decides that if he ends up breaking some teeth, that will just have to happen. Prisoners were to break in here, and that's what they were determined to do One small little person would not make them fail in that quest. Another stands ready to jam food into h