10157/Chow Time

Chow Time
Date of Scene:	17 February 2022
Location:	Belle Reve Prison
Synopsis:	Dinner in the mess hall at Belle Reve is always questionable, but especially on Taco Tuesday. Luckily, Deadshot and Captain Boomerang understand how to get through an awkward 'family' meal, even if most of the other inmates don't.
Cast of Characters:	George Harkness, Floyd Lawton

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George Harkness has posed:
BELLE REVE, LOUISIANA

Some call it a waste of tax dollars. Some call it 'Hell on Earth'. And some call it home.

At least--home as much as a maximum-security reinforced, isolated cell and an hour of exercise time a day can be.

Once a week, though, a communal meal is required by law--even for these most dangerous of inmates.

And once a year, that meal offering turns out to be the most dangerous of culinary offerings.

That's right--it's Taco Tuesday at Belle Reve.


Sitting at a table with two serial killers and the Kangaroo, George 'Digger' Harkness--aka Captain Boomerang--watches the ground meat substitute fall from his fork onto his molded plastic plate with a loud 'plop'.

The murderer next to him sneers. "You Aussie fuck, watch what you're doing there!" he growls.

"Aw, right," Harkness replies with a sigh, "gonna mess up your Sunday best, are we?"

"Knock it off," one of the roaming armed and armored guards says gruffly, his attention less on the dispute than on some of the more infamous residents of the prison.

Kangaroo leans in a bit, whispering, "You all thinking what I'm thinking?"

Three looks of confusion offer a non-verbal reply.

"You know," Kangaroo continues. "We make a break for it."

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton doesn't socialize much as a rule. It isn't that he's hostile necessarily, he just doesn't usually have a whole lot to say. Convicts get cranky if you don't chatter back at them. They think it means you're stuck up, think you're better than them. Of course, Floyd did think he was better than them. He just didn't want to fight about it.

He looks up from his own taco, wiping a bit of hot sauce from his mustache with a napkin before he speaks, "You know they don't take the bombs out of our heads when we come back to our cells, right? They leave 'em in there, just for numbnut ideas like that."

George Harkness has posed:
"Yeah, but ..." Kangaroo begins before trailing off for a moment, pondering Lawton's words. "But we've got, like, a critical mass."

"More like critical ass, mate," Harkness chimes in cheerily, letting another forkful of meat 'plop' onto his plate. Some of it splatters onto the inmate next to Harkness.

"I warned you, Crocodile Dundee," the man says, pushing himself up angrily. Just then, two things happen.

First, Harkness asks, "Does anyone even /get/ that reference any more?"

Second, the killer's infuriated change of position tips his own plate over, spilling toward Lawton.

"Oh, shit," the other non-costumed inmate at the table says, his eyes going wide.

"I said /knock it off/!" the armored guard shouts, spinning on a heel to face the source of the noise.

Seeing her chance, a woman covered in quills who calls herself 'The Hedgehog' leaps onto the guard, trying to wrest his assault rifle from him.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton pushes up when the tray spills near him, moving towarrds the Kangaroo, his lips pulled back in a sneer, "Listen, you dipshit, you're going to get us all..."

And then chaos breaks out as the Hedgehog attempts to level up her game by jumping on the guard. Floyd watches as a few others join in, then turns to the Kangaroo.

"There's your critical mass," he says, reaching down and picking up his glass of water to take a sip. "You wanna make a break? Go for it. The Wall will have you down in the hole if you're lucky. Maybe I can get your cell. It's got a nice view."

George Harkness has posed:
The Kangaroo definitely seems to reconsider his original position, watching the chaos explode here in the mess hall.

"FOOD FIGHT!" someone screams before getting the butt of a rifle in the mouth.

Refried beans are smeared across a guard's visor as 'Conductor Jones' smashes the guard over the head with a two-handed plate beating.

Other inmates--with long-standing grudges--appear to use this time to end their rivalries and attack one another with whatever's on hand: plastic silverware, choke-hazard handfuls of cheese, torn sleeves filled with rocks smuggled in from the yard.

Harkness carefully breaks apart a taco shell and throws it into the air, where it spins around to stab Kangaroo in the ankle. He drops down in pain a split-second before someone starts wildly firing off rubber rounds at anyone and everyone.

A particularly angry convict who calls himself 'Deathshot' and who's called Lawton a ripoff charges at the latter, thumbs ready to gouge out some eyes. "You're never gonna use that monocle again!" he sneers.

Radios are torn off of guard belts before they can get used--or most are, anyway.

Someone gets the word out, and the alarm starts to scream.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton grabs a fork off the table and throws it end over end to land in 'Deathshot's face, stabbing him through the cheekmeat and leaving him screaming and clawing at his face.

"Dumb fucker," Floyd says to himself.

He leans down to reach into the back pocket of a fallen guard and pulls out a pack of Marlboros, tucking it away and lighting one with the Bic stuffed down in there, taking a long drag as he goes over and just sits on top of one of the tables. He cocks his head at Boomerang, "Really? Throwing taco shells? Just wear a jester hat, buddy."

George Harkness has posed:
With a shrug, Digger sighs. "Way I see it, they think I wear one anyway. If I can show 'em that I'm deadly /even with/ a bleedin' taco, how're they gonna try to one-up me without looking like an even bigger dink?" He offers a toothy grin, lying on his stomach on the floor.

All around, heads begin to detonate as those inmates who haven't immediately assumed a passive position are reprimanded. Those guards who can stand up, collecting their equipment. "You stupid pieces of shit," the sergeant barks. "You want to waste the warden's food and try to hurt the staff, maybe you all can go without food for a few days."

Harkness sighs and glances up at Lawton. "I know, I know. Probably shoulda let Kangaroo just deal with it. Got a soft spot for the namesake."

"Quiet," a guard hisses, kicking Digger in the ribs.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton finishes his smoke quickly, stabbing it out against the bottom of his shoe before one of the screws decides to yank it from him out of spite.

"Hey, not his fault. Go kick that asshole," he says, gesturing towards the falling Deathshot who's still clawing at his wound.

"Soft spots are a good place to get shived in the joint, Cap. You gotta know that better than most."

George Harkness has posed:
The guards begin wrestling those injured toward the doors and the medical unit not far away, Deathshot among them.

"Aaagh!" he shrieks. "I'hn ginn muuu!" Deathshot tries to swing his arms toward Lawton, grasping greedily for him, but the guards crank both hands behind his back and carry him off. The blood from his facial wound runs all over his uniform. "My gobbam globes!"

Harkness can only offer a thin smile of schadenfreude. "Maybe so," he replies to Lawton. "But I also know that a dumb bastard saved today can be a meat shield tomorrow..."

And with that, a guard comes for each of the two Squad members. "Up and to your cells, inmates," one says. "You weren't total shit-bags so you get the option to walk. The rifle butt's still an option, though."

"Fuckin' boot-lickers," a nearby inmate mutters.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton snorts and looks over to meet eyes with the mutterer and holds his hand up in the shape of a gun, aiming down them carefully and mimicking a 'pow' right between the eyes. Enough to make the guy shut his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he says, putting his hands up. He's still got that pack of ciggies tucked away down his waistband for later. Both pleasure and money to trade some contraband if he wants.

Truth is, he and Hark could've killed all the guards and busted out if they wanted. But it wasn't worth it. Not to cross the Wall.