23:30 Institution For The Correction Of The Criminally Genius: Bushwhack Island Inmates: 1. ESAanimals: Threat Level.3 2. Darkclaw: Threat Level.7 3. Boomer2K: Threat Level.5 4. Nexo: Threat Level.6 5. Dumbledore: Threat Level.50
Bushwhack Island hidden in the Arctic Ocean. It's name was misleading at best inasmuch as there were no bushes on the whole island. Lego City Council is still denying its very existence. Before It's destruction, SteelGate Institution For Correction's Warden was Kingwja. SteelGate being the name of the incarceration facility located on the afore mentioned island. The truth of the situation was in fact that no crime had actually been committed by the five detainees. They were imprisoned due partially to the general public's inability to accept that people with more prowess than them could be a strong barrier between them and tragedy. However for the detainees, prison was their reality, due mainly to Lego City Council's fear of those who could pose a threat to their position. Warden Kingwja was not sadistic or cruel. He was actually a kind man who had a healthy marriage and three kids. His reason for never going down to the containment level, was not because he was aloof like the staff all assumed, or because he thought he was better than others. King never visited containment levels because of the harsh restraint measures imposed by the Lego City Council. So with that, our story begins.
The demise of SteelGate began at breakfast time, 5/27/1999...
Please tell me if you actually will read this, so I know if I should keep writing this. --MrMM
23:30 Institution For The Correction Of The Criminally Genius: Bushwhack Island Inmates: 1. ESAanimals: Threat Level.3 2. Darkclaw: Threat Level.7 3. Boomer2K: Threat Level.5 4. Nexo: Threat Level.6 5. Dumbledore: Threat Level.50
Bushwhack Island hidden in the Arctic Ocean. It's name was misleading at best inasmuch as there were no bushes on the whole island. Lego City Council is still denying its very existence. Before It's destruction, SteelGate Institution For Correction's Warden was Kingwja. SteelGate being the name of the incarceration facility located on the afore mentioned island. The truth of the situation was in fact that no crime had actually been committed by the five detainees. They were imprisoned due partially to the general public's inability to accept that people with more prowess than them could be a strong barrier between them and tragedy. However for the detainees, prison was their reality, due mainly to Lego City Council's fear of those who could pose a threat to their position. Warden Kingwja was not sadistic or cruel. He was actually a kind man who had a healthy marriage and three kids. His reason for never going down to the containment level, was not because he was aloof like the staff all assumed, or because he thought he was better than others. King never visited containment levels because of the harsh restraint measures imposed by the Lego City Council. So with that, our story begins.
The demise of SteelGate began at breakfast time, 5/27/1999...
Please tell me if you actually will read this, so I know if I should keep writing this. --MrMM
Level 1: Ground Floor Prisoner: ESAanimals 7:30 a.m. "Chows up. Heh! Get it while its hot", sneers the swarthy guard. With a loud rap on the inch thick containment glass, he then slid the "food" through the airlock-like unit meant as a means of administering food to the prisoner with minimal danger to the staff. In direct CONtrast to his implication the food was not "hot" nor was it particularly good. However the "sustenance" fortunately did hold some resemblance to food. ESAanimals and the other prisoner had no other reference to food. So within the parameters of their food world, they had their likes and dislikes. Essa (as the staff called her for short) had always shown a distinct genius for computing, math, logistics, and the like. These tended to manifest themselves in seeing the "one point in a brick wall that if one pushed "just here" the wall would fall down. This is literal and figurative. Essa and her powers of thought and deduction, however, had not been able to deduce her exact location (she had had brief exposure to a few maps), or even what she had done to deserve this life of near-solitary CONfinement. To her credit she had deduced that her cell was part of a larger complex, she was 1 of between 3 and 7 prisoners,she wanted out , she could get out of her cell any time she wanted, and so could the others. She also knew she would last approximately 174.3 hours before being eliminated. With the others she would stand a better chance. It was now a mater of waiting for the opportune moment. Taking a mouthful of food and chewing, not cringing too much, as she watched the minuet hand of the clock across the hall lurch forward 5 more minuets. "So this is how it starts", murmurers ESAanimals.
Level 1: Ground Floor Prisoner: ESAanimals 7:30 a.m. "Chows up. Heh! Get it while its hot", sneers the swarthy guard. With a loud rap on the inch thick containment glass, he then slid the "food" through the airlock-like unit meant as a means of administering food to the prisoner with minimal danger to the staff. In direct CONtrast to his implication the food was not "hot" nor was it particularly good. However the "sustenance" fortunately did hold some resemblance to food. ESAanimals and the other prisoner had no other reference to food. So within the parameters of their food world, they had their likes and dislikes. Essa (as the staff called her for short) had always shown a distinct genius for computing, math, logistics, and the like. These tended to manifest themselves in seeing the "one point in a brick wall that if one pushed "just here" the wall would fall down. This is literal and figurative. Essa and her powers of thought and deduction, however, had not been able to deduce her exact location (she had had brief exposure to a few maps), or even what she had done to deserve this life of near-solitary CONfinement. To her credit she had deduced that her cell was part of a larger complex, she was 1 of between 3 and 7 prisoners,she wanted out , she could get out of her cell any time she wanted, and so could the others. She also knew she would last approximately 174.3 hours before being eliminated. With the others she would stand a better chance. It was now a mater of waiting for the opportune moment. Taking a mouthful of food and chewing, not cringing too much, as she watched the minuet hand of the clock across the hall lurch forward 5 more minuets. "So this is how it starts", murmurers ESAanimals.
Huzzah! It's me first! Thank you, can't wait to see who's next in the inevitable moar. :3 (<Subtle hint. )
Level 2: Sub-level 1 Prisoner: Darkclaw 7:35 a.m. "Kosto magnetism ... The science of "magnets" that effect nonmetals. Cool...I can manipulate most things with thought. It's as simple as moving my right arm. But why am I a Kosto magnet? And why can I not effect this box I live in? This mysterious letter I received told me a lot, but it did not answer all my questions. It may have caused more questions than it answered. Apparently there are moar creatures like me out side of this box! That may explain the noises I hear "outside." Then why am I in this box...not out there...with them? I need to see the others. Who sent the letter to me? How can I get out? A soft whir signaled the arrival of breakfast and disrupted his brainstorming session. Over time he had searched for its source and had found a narrow slit in the wall. Darkclaw had tried pushing and prying on this queer rectangle but could never force it open. He had not stuck his hand through when it was open. Whenever he was within 10 feet (3.0480061 meters) of the opening and it opened, the next thing he knew he was flat on his face with a terrible head ache and his food would be cold. Darkclaw had struggled to understand what had happened and eventually grew to suspect some sort of medically induced comma. Respiratory administration was his best guess. After eating he meal he went back to the envelope. He picked it up and examined it more thoroughly than the first time that he touched it. He had opened it in an excitement induced frenzy and in finding the letter he had neglected to cheek the envelope for any further CONtents. Hefting it he discovered a plastic rectangle with markings, an anonymous photograph, and the name Cogger Paff. Who was Cogger Paff?
Level 2: Sub-level 1 Prisoner: Darkclaw 7:35 a.m. "Kosto magnetism ... The science of "magnets" that effect nonmetals. Cool...I can manipulate most things with thought. It's as simple as moving my right arm. But why am I a Kosto magnet? And why can I not effect this box I live in? This mysterious letter I received told me a lot, but it did not answer all my questions. It may have caused more questions than it answered. Apparently there are moar creatures like me out side of this box! That may explain the noises I hear "outside." Then why am I in this box...not out there...with them? I need to see the others. Who sent the letter to me? How can I get out? A soft whir signaled the arrival of breakfast and disrupted his brainstorming session. Over time he had searched for its source and had found a narrow slit in the wall. Darkclaw had tried pushing and prying on this queer rectangle but could never force it open. He had not stuck his hand through when it was open. Whenever he was within 10 feet (3.0480061 meters) of the opening and it opened, the next thing he knew he was flat on his face with a terrible head ache and his food would be cold. Darkclaw had struggled to understand what had happened and eventually grew to suspect some sort of medically induced comma. Respiratory administration was his best guess. After eating he meal he went back to the envelope. He picked it up and examined it more thoroughly than the first time that he touched it. He had opened it in an excitement induced frenzy and in finding the letter he had neglected to cheek the envelope for any further CONtents. Hefting it he discovered a plastic rectangle with markings, an anonymous photograph, and the name Cogger Paff. Who was Cogger Paff?
Ooh, I likey! I bet DarkClaw (the real guy) has no idea we all still write stories about him over here. Did you know him well?
Level 2: Sub-level 1 Prisoner: Darkclaw 7:35 a.m. "Kosto magnetism ... The science of "magnets" that effect nonmetals. Cool...I can manipulate most things with thought. It's as simple as moving my right arm. But why am I a Kosto magnet? And why can I not effect this box I live in? This mysterious letter I received told me a lot, but it did not answer all my questions. It may have caused more questions than it answered. Apparently there are moar creatures like me out side of this box! That may explain the noises I hear "outside." Then why am I in this box...not out there...with them? I need to see the others. Who sent the letter to me? How can I get out? A soft whir signaled the arrival of breakfast and disrupted his brainstorming session. Over time he had searched for its source and had found a narrow slit in the wall. Darkclaw had tried pushing and prying on this queer rectangle but could never force it open. He had not stuck his hand through when it was open. Whenever he was within 10 feet (3.0480061 meters) of the opening and it opened, the next thing he knew he was flat on his face with a terrible head ache and his food would be cold. Darkclaw had struggled to understand what had happened and eventually grew to suspect some sort of medically induced comma. Respiratory administration was his best guess. After eating he meal he went back to the envelope. He picked it up and examined it more thoroughly than the first time that he touched it. He had opened it in an excitement induced frenzy and in finding the letter he had neglected to cheek the envelope for any further CONtents. Hefting it he discovered a plastic rectangle with markings, an anonymous photograph, and the name Cogger Paff. Who was Cogger Paff?
Ooh, I likey! I bet DarkClaw (the real guy) has no idea we all still write stories about him over here. Did you know him well?
I never "knew" Darkclaw. I know little about him. I know someone who "knew" him though. And I hope anyone who knew he will not be too offended.
Level 3: Sub-level 2 Prisoner: Boomer2K 7:30 a.m. Another day another meal. Another book. Another dreary stretch of hours parading by in an inevitable, unstoppable, and ruthlessly chronological stream of irreversible moments, one by one wasted. "So time flies when you're having fun." Thought Boomer2K. Boomer, unlike the others, had memories of life outside the Institution. Fractions of memories really. Or maybe a weird dream he could only remember parts of, yet never could pull it all back in. Something about a man with a mustache, and a glass jar. A big glass jar...that used to be his home. There were other men, he remembered. Men dressed in black with their faces CONcealed. That part was more like a nightmare. The thought of it made him shudder. Speaking of shudder... "When I was younger the guards used to jump out and bang on the bars. They used to tell me my parents sent me here because I was bad. I don't remember my parents...not at all." The guards stopped taunting him the first time he had rigged up a trap. All messy details aside no one was permanently injured, but 3 people ended up in the medical ward. In fact the old custodian still glared daggers at him when he was mopping nearby. "Mostly because he had to take it all down afterward. But that's really not my fault. I offered to help clean up if they would just let me out to help... Plus he never smiles anyway so I guess he's just not having a good day...every day..." Boomer took a bite of his freshly delivered breakfast. It wasn't much better fresh than it was stale. There just wasn't that much difference. He looked across the corridor at the clock and wondered what his future might hold. "If I could only just get out of my cell...
Level 3: Sub-level 2 Prisoner: Boomer2K 7:30 a.m. Another day another meal. Another book. Another dreary stretch of hours parading by in an inevitable, unstoppable, and ruthlessly chronological stream of irreversible moments, one by one wasted. "So time flies when you're having fun." Thought Boomer2K. Boomer, unlike the others, had memories of life outside the Institution. Fractions of memories really. Or maybe a weird dream he could only remember parts of, yet never could pull it all back in. Something about a man with a mustache, and a g!!lass jar. A big glass jar...that used to be his home. There were other men, he remembered. Men dressed in black with their faces CONcealed. That part was more like a nightmare. The thought of it made him shudder. Speaking of shudder... "When I was younger the guards used to jump out and bang on the bars. They used to tell me my parents sent me here because I was bad. I don't remember my parents...not at all." The guards stopped taunting him the first time he had rigged up a trap. All messy details aside no one was permanently injured, but 3 people ended up in the medical ward. In fact the old custodian still glared daggers at him when he was mopping nearby. "Mostly because he had to take it all down afterward. But that's really not my fault. I offered to help clean up if they would just let me out to help... Plus he never smiles anyway so I guess he's just not having a good day...every day..." Boomer took a bite of his freshly delivered breakfast. It wasn't much better fresh than it was stale. There just wasn't that much difference. He looked across the corridor at the clock and wondered what his future might hold. "If I could only just get out of my cell...
Hola Mr.MM! Long time since we have seen each other, my friend!!!
Level 3: Sub-level 2 Prisoner: Boomer2K 7:30 a.m. Another day another meal. Another book. Another dreary stretch of hours parading by in an inevitable, unstoppable, and ruthlessly chronological stream of irreversible moments, one by one wasted. "So time flies when you're having fun." Thought Boomer2K. Boomer, unlike the others, had memories of life outside the Institution. Fractions of memories really. Or maybe a weird dream he could only remember parts of, yet never could pull it all back in. Something about a man with a mustache, and a glass jar. A big glass jar...that used to be his home. There were other men, he remembered. Men dressed in black with their faces CONcealed. That part was more like a nightmare. The thought of it made him shudder. Speaking of shudder... "When I was younger the guards used to jump out and bang on the bars. They used to tell me my parents sent me here because I was bad. I don't remember my parents...not at all." The guards stopped taunting him the first time he had rigged up a trap. All messy details aside no one was permanently injured, but 3 people ended up in the medical ward. In fact the old custodian still glared daggers at him when he was mopping nearby. "Mostly because he had to take it all down afterward. But that's really not my fault. I offered to help clean up if they would just let me out to help... Plus he never smiles anyway so I guess he's just not having a good day...every day..." Boomer took a bite of his freshly delivered breakfast. It wasn't much better fresh than it was stale. There just wasn't that much difference. He looked across the corridor at the clock and wondered what his future might hold. "If I could only just get out of my cell...
Level 3: Sub-level 2 Prisoner: Boomer2K 7:30 a.m. Another day another meal. Another book. Another dreary stretch of hours parading by in an inevitable, unstoppable, and ruthlessly chronological stream of irreversible moments, one by one wasted. "So time flies when you're having fun." Thought Boomer2K. Boomer, unlike the others, had memories of life outside the Institution. Fractions of memories really. Or maybe a weird dream he could only remember parts of, yet never could pull it all back in. Something about a man with a mustache, and a g!!lass jar. A big glass jar...that used to be his home. There were other men, he remembered. Men dressed in black with their faces CONcealed. That part was more like a nightmare. The thought of it made him shudder. Speaking of shudder... "When I was younger the guards used to jump out and bang on the bars. They used to tell me my parents sent me here because I was bad. I don't remember my parents...not at all." The guards stopped taunting him the first time he had rigged up a trap. All messy details aside no one was permanently injured, but 3 people ended up in the medical ward. In fact the old custodian still glared daggers at him when he was mopping nearby. "Mostly because he had to take it all down afterward. But that's really not my fault. I offered to help clean up if they would just let me out to help... Plus he never smiles anyway so I guess he's just not having a good day...every day..." Boomer took a bite of his freshly delivered breakfast. It wasn't much better fresh than it was stale. There just wasn't that much difference. He looked across the corridor at the clock and wondered what his future might hold. "If I could only just get out of my cell...
Hola Mr.MM! Long time since we have seen each other, my friend!!!
Therandom, que pasa hermano? Funny the people you run in to on the internet!
Anytime Mr.MM. :3 
![[derp]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/YqNTPqyQUocVMYXZgUAI.png)
Thank you, can't wait to see who's next in the inevitable moar. :3 (<Subtle hint. 
Did you know him well? 
Did you know him well? 
![[~]](http://storage.proboards.com/6672327/images/ozFsbNeZhKNyVxseYHGI.png)
It's cool to see him in another story. 
It's cool to see him in another story. 
