Rayne

New and revised!

[There are several different clips of footage, almost certainly being recorded for personal reference. Most of it's from above, such as ledges and anywhere else which can be perched on. Each clip is short. Someone - Rayne - scouting around to see what things are like; recording things to replay back, later on.

The last is of her with one of those arm-blades still locked out and clearly splattered with blood along the sharp metal. Not all wardens have a thing against killing.]

Anyone find some mix-and-match body parts in an alley? Yeah, my bad... That was me. There was this annoying difference of opinion and I take exception to getting shot at.

You guys wouldn't believe how much this is like back home. Except there's less evil here. And ninjas. And... Insect dude things.

Superhero dreams are... Weird.

Anyhow, I got to dredging through what's in the library. Like, modern-wise - about vamps. It's been a while. Mostly, because I got given a... Novel... For what of a better word, by an old inmate of mine. Some of the most God awful shit I've ever seen - and that includes Hedrox and Scientology.

Sparkly fang-heads, man... Seriously. The hell she was she thinking?

So, it's taken me a while to get back to, y'know, research and all. Can't say my attention span's the best in the world, but it is my job.

And it struck me... About the fiction side of things? Sure, human beings talk shit make the undead thing... Romantic, but there's this whole new rash of stories trying to make out vampires are some sort of other species. I get how they're different, but... A corpse is still genetically human, right? Even if it's got infected with something.

Any medical opinions on this? Or did the ship eat all our physicians, again?

Private - Raistlin:

Don't think you told me what the rabbit's called.

I feel like bucking a trend...

I hereby refuse to apologise for who I am and what I've done.

Got a problem with that? You can bill me.

Private - Raistlin:

You like rabbits, right?

I realise we have to dock every once in a while... For some reason, it's supposedly unavoidable that we're forced to endure either public humiliation, fucking shopping or getting hunted down for mutilation fun-time.

But Admiral, seriously... I think I speak for all well, most of us, when I say I'm tired of living out this guinea pig maze. Either it's someone's idea of a joke or whoever/whatever you get to drive this thing doesn't know what they're doing.

Because in what possible way is a shopping mall or... Or dinosaurs or... Or any of this stuff - how are we meant to teach someone what they need from getting shoved in the kind of situations we get put in? I thought we're meant to steer these people over to some kind of path where they do the 'right thing'. How are they going to learn that by getting dumped somewhere they need to do the kill-or-be-killed thing? Or getting put up in a hotel? What's someone meant to learn from that?

I don't get it... I just don't.

Either get some new maps or stop the ship. The vacations-for-psychos deal doesn't teach us a God damned thing.

My inmate, Raistlin, needs his abilities back to deal with you-know-what. Around the level he had when travelling with those... 'Heroes Of The Lance' guys.

[Rayne's in her room, which is fairly sparse. Kind of. A metal weapons cabinet in a cage is over to one side, which looks guarded by all sorts of locks and things. She's sitting on her desk, resting one boot on the chair to support the long blade she's in the midst of sharpening. The reason she's bobbing head up and down is because of the rhythm of 'golden oldies' playing in the background, like this, this and this. Every so often, she looks up at the camera, but her attention's mainly on the sharp blade.

This is one of those rare instances Rayne is making a non-written post, which means her lazy drawl might be getting heard for the first time by some.]

So... For all you newbies out there and, like... People who haven't said anything... I'm Rayne. AKA: The Bitchy One. There's a bunch of us now, though, so... Probably just 'Rayne'.

They decide to give you guys a brochure upon arrival yet? A starter's guide? No...?

Well, just in case...

Welcome to Psychosis Incorporated, your home for the next however many years you're stuck here. We get split into wardens and inmates and there are a whole lot of nasties on both sides. Basically, it's a prison, psyche ward and school all rolled into one. Except with that teensy annoyance of cross-dimensional travel which makes everything go hooey every once in a while and you lose your identity and, quite possibly, gender, age and species for a while. Usually temporary, but you never know...

Speaking of nasties, if you require blood, flesh or bone to survive, just pay a visit to the dining hall. You need it? They serve it.

Yes, there'll almost certainly be someone who recognises you. This is usually due to life playing a cruel joke and your entire life turning up as a form of entertainment in some other... Place.

Yes, we have Captain Kirk.

No, he won't mind if you molest him.

Best advice: Keep your head down and assume the place is going to try and craze you into submission. You can't die, so... Don't even try. All it'll get you is nausea.

Worst advice: Being an ass. If you have to ask what this means, then you're already being one.

Any questions, leave 'em here. Blah-blah-blah...

My sympathies... If he's anything like he was when I had him, you've got your work cut out.

Course, he did look a mite different, back then.

Since my inmate, Raistlin, wouldn't give a damn about the usual variety of punishments we've got to hand, I cast my mind back to an old friend we used to have around here. Giselle. I figure he could take a page out of her book. He would've hated her.

So, for a month, every breakfast, lunch and dinner you sit down for in the mess hall, you're going to find a pretty arrangement of flowers and uplifting poetry at each table to brighten your day and inspire all you inmates to do better!

Any complaints about it not being cute enough? Now you know who to direct them to...

Wardens:

Who's in charge of the greenhouse?

You've got him working with you for a while.

Anyone get any proof it wasn't just our regular Admiral doing this, all along?

'Cause, y'know... He/she/it/they do this sort of thing a lot.