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One Way Out - Chapter 12

Hey guys, it's Poke again with another update heading your way! Whilst I am continuing my struggle against the scourge that is Writers Block, I have mustered up enough strength to bring you this next chapter. Yes, I'm a very pathetic person! BUT... I do have something to say that is directed to some of my reviewers. I appreciate the feedback and support that you give to my fanfic, but would it kill you to say something besides "MORE"? I understand that you like your dose of One Way Out, but even writers need a break! At least tell me what you thought of the chapter!

Without further delay, I bring you the twelfth chapter of One Way Out!

At that precise moment when the monstrous piece of steel seemed poised to cave my skull in, there was one thought rushing through my mind - besides that of absolute fear - Why did every single misfortune have to be thrown in my direction!? I mean, I knew that prison wasn't a place of leisure by any means, but couldn't they just cut me a break!?

I mean, think about it. First, I was rushed into this prison after being bashed around a bit by the baton-toting asshole of an Monferno that commanded the little welcome community consisting of several Pokémon holding M1 Garands.

Then I made the top of the shit list of a certain Haxxorus who seemed intent on wearing my ass like a fucking baseball glove. I had to deal with that prick more than once, as you _probably_know.

Then I pissed off a few more guards that either verbally abused me, or nearly beat me into straight into the infirmary. Unfortunately Slick Mick and his little gang of bull queers (I wouldn't consider them to be gay, since you have to be sane to qualify for that) beat them to the punch, albeit after a bunch of mind games with me.

These mind games consisted of catcalling, funny looks, and most alarmingly, the brutal sodomy of a Grumpig who - despite being a paedophile and hence the absolute bottom of the prison food chain - did not deserve such a horrid treatment in the slightest. He was just minding his own business, but then they came along and fucked him up.

Sure, besides all the doom-and-gloom of this place, there was still plenty of nice bits about it. In particular, I met a pretty nice guy by the name of Kaz, who turned out to be my cellmate and teacher in this cold, unreasonable place. I think I even had a bit of infatuation for the guy, what with his Trojan-esque body, his ultra optimistic personality, and pretty much Kaz as a whole!

And I have to admit that Nico and his bunch are certainly a bright light in an otherwise dull, gloomy place. They each offer unique personalities, and yet they still treat me as a dear, dear friend. To be quite frank; I think I've done a pretty modest job with regards to the social factor. Whilst there are some exceptions, I even managed to curry favour with the woodshop Nidoqueen, which shows how far I can stretch.

But soon all these thoughts would be rendered useless, as Mick unleashed a deadly blow to my forehead, and soon everything went black, but then fuzzy...

For whatever reason, my left cheek stung the immediate moment my vision turned blurry. I think I'd been slapped. But soon I woke up and let out a yelp before I saw two blurry figures in front of me, but as soon as my vision cleared, I immediately recognised them as Dirty Scissors, and his Ursaring assistant, whose name I couldn't quite remember. The Ursaring soon zoomed in on my face and greeted me in a rather teasing, cheeky tone:

"Wake up, buttercup."

However, his little moment was soon ended by his companion, who roughly shoved him out of the way with a rather icy glare of disapproval. Wait, that was all a dream!? Fucking hell... That morphine crap is fucking my mind up.

"Relax, Angelo. He don't mean nothin'." Dirty Scissors commented, unintentionally serving as my call back to what I assumed to be reality. The only response I gave was a rather exhausted nod. He took notice of this immediately.

"Are you all right, Angelo? You look like you've seen a ghost." he asked, surprisingly showing an emotion that wasn't cold and careless for the first time. To be honest, this almost seemed too good for it to be true.

After that I actually spoke. Despite sounding quite sleepy, it was a relief to get my voice back. "Yeah... Just had a deep sleep, is all..."

He just nodded in acknowledgement, before saying: "Good, good. Don't forget that you have visitors coming in an hour. Best stay awake..." And with that, he left the room. The Ursaring, however, kept staring at me for a bit.

"You're STILL on that morphine?" He questioned, looking rather surprised as I am. That was another person who seemed to be opposed to the stuff they were pumping into me.

"Yeah, it's getting pretty annoying." I replied honestly, and soon he left as well, not before saying:

"Shame, if you need anything, just shout... Can't stay here too long, otherwise I'll get in trouble." Goddamnit. The last bit of social contact I had in this place had just gone. Perfect. And with an hour to spare.

I tried getting some sleep again. But for whatever the reason might have been, my mind just couldn't settle, and my brain just refused to do what I told it.

After about twenty minutes of tussling and turning, I finally became irritated at the inability to fall asleep, and rose up in a clearly frustrated manner. If it wasn't for the morphine, then I'd probably be on a rampage by now, destroying anything in my path.

Sounds a bit drastic, I know, but regardless of the consequences, it would have passed the time in a matter which satisfied me.

I desperately scanned the room for any sign of solace, whether it be books, magazines or even PICTURES, but at first glance, it seemed as though I was just wasting my time.

After I cursed to myself, I noticed something was sticking out from underneath my bed. It looked a bit old, but still gleamed a blood red look to it. I'd never noticed it before, which only attributed to my curiosity.

I shot my left hand down towards it, due to the right one being hooked up, and despite meeting some resistance due to the drugs, I managed to grab a hold of it, and the second I felt it, I knew that it was a book! A hardback one at that!

After bringing it back up, I frantically scanned the cover of it. There was no cover art or anything like that, just a large clump of text. It read: _Red Storm Rising by Tom Clancy._Now, I had never read any of Tom Clancy's books, nor had I really cared for them. I mean, I HAD heard of Tom Clancy, but I had no desires to actually read his works.

But to be honest, the sheer sight of a book was enough to tempt me to open the book. It was certainly big enough to keep me occupied until Nathan and Co showed up, that's for sure.

I was really unsure about the book's plot for about ten minutes or so, but then something suddenly clicked in my mind that put all the pieces together. After this, guess what? I got sucked into the fucking plot! And I loved every second of it! The whole concept of a third world war was one that was both terrifying, yet intriguing at the same time.

Of course, they had to replace Kanto and Sinnoh with fictional places they call "America", "West and East Germany" and "the Warsaw Pact". If it had the regions, it'd probably start a war or something like that!

Soon, that hour soon flew by, and I was really surprised when I heard a knock at the window. I slowly looked up, and shot a huge grin at both him, and Marcel, who had obviously been the guy made to accompany Nathan.

After a few seconds of conversing with Dirty Scissors, the door opened, and in came another Bisharp guard, though it wasn't the one from yesterday. This one seemed to be less bored, and spoke with less gruffness in his voice.

"Okay, Angelo. You got two visitors. In case you don't know, don't shout too loud, and don't talk shit about us. Got it?" I just nodded in response, and he ushered the two in and directed them towards me.

"Hello again." Marcel mused with his trademark smirk plastered across his face as he took a seat next to me. Nathan on the other hand was much, MUCH more enthusiastic.

"Oh ma gawd, Vito! How ya been, dude? I ain't heard from ya for weeks, man!" That accent... It was a very pleasant sound that rang throughout my ears. I was glad to finally be back with all the members of Nico's clique.

I didn't hesitate to reply, saying to the Nidorino: "I've been okay, Nathan. Well, if you call being pumped up with morphine on a regular basis 'okay'." He just chuckled in response.

"Yeah man, I heard all about that from the guys an' all. Bit that shit pisses you off, eh?" He said, and I couldn't do anything but agree like I did many times before.

Soon, the attention turned to the book I was reading. Seems that Marcel had read it before. He called it convoluted, yet amusing. I wouldn't say it was convoluted, but I will admit it was quite a complex plot.

"Nathan, you read this before?" I asked him, and after a quick tweak with his glasses, he smiled and responded:

"Nah, can't say ah have. I prefer Western stuff, myself." Heh, typical. Cajun folks tend to be biased in that way, I guess. But kudos to him for at least being open minded.

Marcel was slightly in disbelief over this, exclaiming: "Nathan, it's not illegal to read anything that isn't a Western novel! Tom Clancy does make some good books. But to be honest, they're not my favourite. Mine's back in my cell. But thanks to the screws, it's contraband." Heheh... I wonder what that book is...

Nathan just tittered at Marcel's little jab. "Well, ah guess it wouldn't hurt! But ta' be honest, ah'd assume ya' favourite book has ta' do with the unholy slaughter of every goddamn screw in this here place."

Marcel just shook his head. "It's not a cudgel, you barbarian, it's actually something that's well written, and offers a good look at society." I have to admit, that was pretty philosophical from a guy I assumed to be a cold-blooded killer.

"Uh, guys..." I told the two, feeling as though they were getting a bit sidetracked. They immediately turned to face me, but instead of asking me how I was, Marcel decided to examine my body.

"Hmm... You look a bit more thinner than I thought. You really need to build your body up. Especially with Slick Mick and his gang on your case." Oh Mew...

I didn't skimp on the reply, knowing full well that every word of Marcel's rang true. "Yeah, ah'd figured that out. But how can I do this? I'd probably drop dead the second I picked up those weights!"

Marcel wasn't phased by my complaint in the slightest. Instead, he came up with a rather interesting proposition.

"I see... But to be honest; I need someone to come with me to the gym. I'm tired of looking like a liner in that place. Especially with some herculean Machoke or Tyranitar always wanting to fight me. The company would also back them off."

Originally, I was a bit skeptical at the nature of the proposition, asking him: "Uh... I hope this isn't so you can get some sorta perk... I hate being used like that."

The Gabite just chuckled again. "Vito, Vito, Vito... You didn't let me finish... There's no need to be hasty! I'm gonna show you the ropes, make sure you do everything right, and when I'm certain you won't fuck things up, I'll let you go at your own pace." That... was actually a pretty decent-sounding deal.

"Okay... You got yourself a deal!" I exclaimed, finally appeased that all this talk about my body being too weedy was about to be put to bed for good. Marcel gave a rather pleased grin, and Nathan seemed quite ecstatic.

"Well, man! You're gonna be like that ol' Burt Reynolds in no time, man!" he exclaimed, clearly pleased at my decision. Guess guys with a bit more meat on them turned him on in some way.

To both my, and the duo's surprise, the Bisharp supervising us (well, if you call sitting in a corner, reading a copy of 'Men Only' supervising) actually spoke up.

"Hmm... Sounds a smart decision..." He commented, sounding somewhat impressed at me and Marcel's agreement. "Normally the big guys would leave the rest for dead. But I guess LaMonde here is different."

This cop... actually sounded genuinely nice. I mean he still sounded a bit bored, but eh, at least he actually said something that wasn't malicious nor condescending.

Marcel kept his cool around the officer, but I could tell he was a little bit suspicious with the sudden comment. "Yeah, unfortunately I'm not what you'd call... normal." he said in a rather cold manner, which visibly struck the Bisharp off guard. I think he intimidated the poor guy purely by accident!

"I... See. I know you quite well, LaMonde. You're certainly someone we fear in this place." said the Bisharp, trying to reason with the ground type.

For the mean time, I think it had worked, as Marcel did reply again, only with less hostility in his voice: "You got that right. I know what I've done to end up in here, but I don't regret it. They had it coming a long time ago."

The Bisharp did keep his rather disconcerted frown, knowing full well what he had done. "Yeah, I know what you did. But... But it doesn't matter what you think! You're here to do time, regardless of whether you regret it or not! I-I think I've said too much!" he abruptly concluded, quickly turning back to his magazine but not without a dejected sigh.

I was a bit shocked at the way the officer had reacted. It seemed as though he wanted to talk to someone. Shame it had to be Marcel. I and Nathan could've said something, but to be honest, the toned Gabite had somewhat deterred us from doing so, maybe because we knew so little about what he actually did...

Soon after that, the meeting time had come to an end, with the Bisharp's stopwatch beeping. He then put away his magazine, got up out of his seat and drew out his baton, telling the two visitors: "Right, visiting time's over. Yous gotta get back to work, you hear?"

Not wanting to tamper with the officer's patience, Nathan quickly rose up, with the more reserved Marcel in tow.

The two then bade me farewell, with Nathan chirping: "See ya later, Vito! We'll make sure ta see ya again before ya get out, y'hear?" I smiled and thanked him for this. Company was always nice.

"See ya soon, kid," came Marcel's response. "I'll make sure you get yourself toned up in no time. You're going to be thanking me sooner or later, I'll warrant that! Oh, and enjoy your book!" Damn, I'd almost forgotten about it!

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After the guard escorted the two out of the infirmary, I was alone only for another ten minutes, when the same Blissey who had been tending to me for these past few weeks came into the room. Most surprisingly, she came in with a rather noticeable beam on her face.

"Well hellooooo, there!~" She chimed in her usual cheery tone. Hopefully she might actually be bringing good news, and not skimping on the optimism!

"Hey there, nurse." I simply replied, not wanting to get my hopes up too much.

"Come on, hun... You need to be happier than that! Especially with the news I've just found out about!" News..? What news?

I slowly beckoned her on with a nod, and she didn't fail to deliver it. "Well, it turns out that your condition has improved over the past week, and you should be able to leave by tomorrow!"

Tommorow? I could leave?

.........PINCH ME, I MUST BE DREAMING.

So, I'm finally ending things on a lighter note! Please tell me what you thought of this chapter, whether it be fan service, or a constructive critique, I appreciate your contribution to the fic! But remember what I said: Any more reviews that say nothing but "MORE", then I will hunt you down, and make your nipples my personal property!

So until next time, this is PokeCJG, signing off! ^_^