Threats from within.

[Exile]

Two weeks after the last check. Planet New London, Bretonia. Current time and date unkown
Another two weeks had passed. I kept track of time by the most basic way of them all ; scratching the wall with my nails, trying to create a row of stripes. One for each day. Did it help? For my sanity it did, yes. Besides that it had no real purpose. Around here, if you get thrown in jail you should make sure to enjoy that last ray of sunlight, because that'll be the last bit you'll see in your entire life. A country involved in a war like Bretonia's doesn't seem to care about what goes on when it comes to the really poor districts. Bad plumbing, worse drinking water and the worst food.

Then, after a while they put some one into the cell next to you. You think : "Hey, finally some one to keep me sane." But no. A woman who's lost her own sanity can't really help yours stay in one place. Immediately after they literary threw her into her cell she started rambling, shouting, pacing. Grabbing at her head as if something was stuck inside. I hung out of the bars and asked the guard who she was. After a pleasant spit in the face, I got my answer. "Christiana Homewood". Some one who apparently used to be a top-notch researcher over in Newcastle. She started behaving strange over the course of the last 4 weeks, until she just burst out and killed her colleges two days ago. Seven deaths, all from sever lacerations and stabbing wounds. Not like she was going to be any harm to me. 5 inch thick bars between her and me, plus the only thing that she had were the clothes on her back and, strangely enough, a stylus. Hidden in her boot. The guard seemed to know but I don't think he cared enough about it to remove it. She was jailed, that's enough to earn his paycheck.

After that same guard had left without inflicting any physical "damage" to anyone for once, I watched the woman called Christiana for a while. She sort of just paced around rambling for a few hours before I decided it wasn't worth staying awake for, and closed my eyes.

After a night of dreaming about what once used to be my home, a time I was free and not screwed over (sigh), I woke up to a rather peculiar next-door cell. Christiana had fallen asleep, crawled up into a corner and closed her eyes. But the walls, the walls was an entirely new story. The walls were covered from top to bottom in writings, schematics I could barely read any of it due to her astounding handwriting. Just as I was about to give up, declaring it all gibberish, I found something in the top left of the wall right in front of me that caught my eye. They even made my stomach do a little three hundred and sixty degrees spin upon seeing them. I had seen these before ; on the artifacts used to train us on Riviera, in the transmission windows of the other operatives... I knew these symbols. It was the writing of my "associates".

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