capeandcowl | twenty. text. backdated to monday.

In the 1940s, rumor has it that a prisoner on the island of Alcatraz was killed by a ghost. 

Back in those days (unlike these days), they had isolation chambers called hole cells where the prisoners were kept in near darkness for weeks on end. "Bang bang bang," one prisoner cried and pounded. "Someone's trying to murder me in here." But the guards thought he was hallucinating, as those being tortured with solitude tended to, and so they did nothing. When the prisoner stopped screaming, they were quite content until they opened the cell and found that he was dead. He had markings on his neck. Strangulation. No one else was in the cell.

Ghost stories have a sort of charm, don't they? Whether or not you believe them, I mean. I don't generally because we didn't have imports back then and because the living can be fucking horrible enough. I'm certain one of the guards killed him and thought they had a clever way of covering it up. Which they did.

I wonder what the prisoner's crime was. But I don't even have a name.

I know I would take death as a legacy if nothing else.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Who are you to him?

Nothing, I think. A pest?

But that's not what you want.

I'd rather be a threat.

Why?

I don't think I have to answer that.

Because you dislike each other.

Because you crave respect from him.

I don't crave respect from him. I just want some form of control, no matter how weak it might be.

Edward doesn't see me as anything either.

I am not a threat.

You don't want to be a threat.

No. But I want control.

How is somebody like you supposed to gain any control? You seem like a pawn. Mentally.

That isn't true.

How are you going to gain control?

How are you?

I like how you didn't answer my question. That's not cowardly at all. I'm okay. How are you?

I mean how are you going to gain your fucking control?

Ha. I'll break a few bones that should be broken, is how. Plenty of historical figures became powerful though physical force.

And that's how you chose to be powerful. Physical force.

That's what defines you.

I'm not going to pretend that I'm able to outwit somebody like Nygma, no. So, I guess it does.

You know that I shot him. He nearly died.

Two days later, and he was lathering on forgiveness.

I went over to his house to hit him, a few days ago. He brushed it off. Should I do more, then? If you bringing him close to death was so successful.

You're already a fugitive. I've read about you.

Yes. Should I torture him?

Are you trying to make me flinch?

text, private;

nine-tries.livejournal.com - 2011-10-16 02:30 (UTC) - Expand