Description: Yamazaki and Poison are in prison, and he gets his hands all over her. All. Over. Her.
"Listen. You tell /anybody/ about what happened last week. *A*n*y* body. Word one. Your face will become my personal handkerchief until your momma comes to scrape what's left of your ass out of the washing machine I threw through your fuckin' fat-ass boyfriend. Now GET OUTTA HERE before I get hungry!!"
They don't really let Yamazaki have too much freedom out here. At least, not after the whole incident with the Neo-Nazi and the basketball hoop. And lord knows he was banned from the weight set only a day or two after checking in.
But they at least let him out near the chess tables. There's not much Yamazaki can do with a bishop. Just to be safe, they took all the kings from his set away though. Just to be safe. Still. Yamazaki being on the exercise field is more an impressive show of his ability to menace anyone who thinks he won't as opposed to any sort of charity on behalf of the prison board.
It turns out, managing Yamazaki as a prisoner without shipping him off to the increasingly policed China is a matter of finding the right levels of restraint that won't upset him enough to start breaking things. After he ripped the door off solitary confinement, it became one long chain of angry paperwork being filed before Yamazaki gets shipped to a prison more.. aptly suited to deal with someone like him. Ever since, placating him seemed to be the best option.
Fortunately for everyone who'd die in the process of killing him, Yamazaki has spent the last few months being relatively calm. Unfortunately for them, it's mostly because he's gotten bored, a little stir-crazy, and a little more than incensed at his old pals on the outside. When you get like that, you start.. to plot.
Finally he just roars to some appropriated lackeys.
"Someone bring me that damn cotton candy-headed floozy!!"
It's a somewhat unfortunate legal technicality that dictates that Poison be sent to a men's prison when she invariably fucks up. Not that she doesn't enjoy it, to an extent -- she's cooped up with lonely, heavily muscled men who are willing to overlook the way she has to constantly and self-consciously keep things held in place with one hand during the act. She's the veritable belle of the ball -- and she's also become perhaps the single most important component of the prison's black market mechanisms.
One place you won't find Poison, though, is the exercise yard. She stays toned in the gym, but that's about it -- she's not interested in a bunch of sweaty men focused on any balls but her own. So it takes a few minutes -- but when word is passed to Poison that Yamazaki wants to see her, she all but skips out to the chessboards.
"I didn't think you were such an intellectual," Poison leers. Prison-issue tank-top, slashed down the center to expose more cleavage. Prison-issue slacks -- taken in to a ridiculous degree, to cover as little as her typical denim cutoffs. Flip-flops instead of heels. No hat. They wouldn't let her keep her Nazi one. "It's kind of a turn-off," she says, slithering close and adopting a mock pout.
"I mean, you don't want me thinking you're a /nerd/, do you?" Because she's just that reckless and stupid, Poison leans in, to grab Yamazaki's arm and press herself against his shoulder, blatantly groping his bicep. "Not when you're so big and /masculine/..."
It's interesting, you'd think Yamazaki was perfectly at home sitting amongst the chess pieces gathered before him. Oh, don't things misconstrued--Yamazaki hasn't made a single move on the board arrayed before him. Unless it weighs more than 50 pounds and can be used to maim someone, Yamazaki isn't largely interested in it.
But Yamazaki isn't much to be called an idiot.
Part of that is why he's still cooped up in here. While Yamazaki would probably incite a riot involving the escape or massacre of fully half of the prison on his own, he'd probably die in the process. That's the sort of partying Yamazaki isn't much interested in. By the time Poison shows, he's staring angrily at the board, less at it or about it, and more through it, as if he were trying to melt the entire thing with his eyes.
Yamazaki is dressed in pressed prison issues himself--full jumpsuit folded down at the waist, with a form-fitting tank top. Nothing to the level of what Poison is currently enjoying, but it's currently in a lot of distress attempting to contain Yamazaki's barrel of a chest. Interestingly enough, Yamazaki still wears his fingerless gloves--a clear bit of contraband that nobody's been brave enough to take from him yet.
Yamazaki glares some more contraband knives at Poison as the he/she speaks up, sparing only a slight glance to the ankle chain that keeps him attached in a more or less secure fashion to the wall as she brings up his 'choice' of location. He glowers. And for some reason it's only half because she got within punching range of him.
"Do me a favor, darlin," the titan snarls.
"Put a <:O>ing sock in it before I put my <C_C!> in it."
As if to put the fake fatale off the idea, Yamazaki gently disengages her from his arm. By 'gently' we mean 'probably doesn't break any bones when he throws her off like a bronco throws a cowboy.' Well. Probably not any of the important ones, anyway. You flesh foxes are full of useless pieces of anatomy that Yamazaki probably doesn't pay a lot of attention to.
"Now pay attention, before you make me mad! You're gonna refresh my memory. How long you been in here again?"
"Ungh!" Poison is thrown away by the casual spasm of Yamazaki's arm. She's knocked out of her flip-flops, and lands on her side, sprawled out as a bunch of people stop what they're doing to watch.
Either Yamazaki's going to kill her, they figure, in which case they don't dare get involved.
Or he's going to do something else to her, which will be the best entertainment they've had since that thing with the Neo-Nazi and the basketball hoop.
"Is that a promise, big boy?" Poison says after rolling over. She keeps her legs lewdly spread and her back arched, posing like an abused pin-up girl and licking her lips. That last gesture is as forcefully confrontational as it is teasingly erotic, which is really her whole schtick in a nutshell.
Poison pushes herself up and rests her hands on her hips. The contrapposto pose she strikes is second nature at this point -- laid-back, totally unforced. "Couple months, maybe," Poison purrs. "Why -- using that to gauge how tight I am?"
Poison winks, as if to imply that she is indeed very, very tight.
All of a sudden, Yamazaki grins.
"Yeah... somethin' like that."
With someone like Yamazaki, you really just never know. There's the impression that Yamazaki would have his way with a rock if the rock was giving him the kind of sass Poison was feeding him right now. All curves and tease--it's not too hard to imagine Yamazaki just launching headlong out of his seat and putting that chain to work on Poison in all the wrong ways.
But he doesn't.
"See, I'm trying to figure exactly how long I'm intending on stayin' in this swill hole. See, way's I figured it, I had some boys on the outside who'd know better than to leave me in here until I got bored. People who knew I had business to kill and people to do. Seems like.. I was wrong. _Seems to me_ like they think they can just get away with forgetting about me! Like that fucking cop--" flashes of a little chinese man doing a dance at him as he's being drug off, "_SEEMS TO ME_ that they don't know who the fuck they're fucking with!!"
*WHAM*
Aw hell. There goes the table.
Right in half. Chess pieces everywhere.
"HELL'RE YOU LOOKIN' AT," Yamazaki rages at a nearby guard, spraying spittle in just about every conceivable direction, "Mind your own goddamn business before I fold it up and stuff it into pinup peter over here!!"
Well, at least they've still got privacy after that little outburst. Yamazaki angrily rights one half of the table to serve as a support for his arm. He breathes, the veins in the whites of his eyes slowly receding. "Now. I'm not a bad guy. I can forgive a little oversight like that. But I've decided. I've been in here for long enough. The clock starts. For every day I'm not outta here, I'm gonna take a name down. And I'm gonna go stomp that name into its owner's ass. Ain't nobody gonna be safe. If I have to break outta here myself, the Buddha better get his fat ass up and fucking lock his doors, you hear me?"
Poison flinches when the table breaks, but other than that, she shows a remarkable amount of courage in just... standing there while Yamazaki fumes and rants. It could be that she's not scared of him. More likely is that watching him inch closer and closer toward one of his trademarked psychotic breaks is turning her on.
The low, sultry way she lets her words linger in the air between them, as if they were blown on a kiss, confirms the latter, sadly. "Mmmm... so what do you want me to do, Yamazaki? You know, I usually charge for helping pass the time, but in your case..."
Poison dares get close again. With half the table gone, she's free to simply drop herself in Yamazaki's lap, straddling one of his thighs as if it was a mechanical bull (complete with preparing herself to be kicked to the moon). "You're lucky I have a thing for big, blonde, crazy jailbirds." She smiles crookedly.
"So why don't you just tell Poison Kiss what it is you want her to do to help you out," comes the whispered request, lips so close to Yamazaki's ear that the warmth of her breath can be felt.
This is starting to get interesting.
Yamazaki's fangs flicker in the light as Poison drops into his lap, the wide-eyed maniac giving Poison possibly one of the oiliest looks ever born under the sun. She isn't much afraid of him. Well, that's sort of impossible. Everyone's afraid of Yamazaki if they still capable of breathing through their face, he's thuroughly convinced of that much. Nobody stares down a cobra with a steady pulse. But then some of us like staring down cobras.
"...Heh."
This close, Yamazaki kind've reeks. He's not really the sort who cares much what he's had his hands buried up to the elbows in from one day to another. He's all blood and sweat and dirt--among other things. But pandered to in that kind of a fashion, the gangster's wicked grin just gets all the wider, his hair raising in slight angry fins as he tilts his head just so into Poison's whisper. "Sister.." he snickers, and his voice kind've .. flanges as he does it. Unhinges? It's really kind of an alien effect. There are some things human vocal cords just aren't meant to do.
"Luck ain't got nothin' to do with it."
One hand settles on Poison's hip, just above her trademark cutoffs. More appropriately referred to as some kind of freakish claw almost large enough to encompass half of the 'woman's' torso on its own, Yamazaki's grip is almost murderously tight at first, only to slacken as he runs his touch up her side--and slowly underneath that top of hers.
"See, it's been awhile since I last had the chance to really have some fun," Yamazaki explains. His breath is probably a few degrees hotter and wetter than it really ought to be, his rasping voice a little deeper and lower than should honestly be right and correct. There is something very obviously devolved about Yamazaki. He's more of an animal than a man when he's like this. "You know, a chance to really cut loose.."
His fingers, one by one, appear from the edges of Poison's physically-improbable low-cut top.
"So.. you know what daddy needs you to do, doncha.."
With slow, inexorable aplomb, Yamazaki stands, starting to haul Poison with him, hoisting right off her convenient (and large) saddle. Provided Poison doesn't fight him too much, Yamazaki's going to have her at least a good foot off the ground. It might be for the best, too--if she fights him too much--well. Yamazaki would kind of be holding her by the few remaining threads holding her aftermarket prison top together in one piece. Good luck trying to get /that/ pitbull to open its jaws.
"I need you to get your shapely ass out there and /remind/ these cornfucks of one thing and one thing alone."
Yamazaki's biceps cord tightly. It's not hard to get the impression something bad's about to happen.
"Like I said. I want you to listen very carefully to what I'm gonna say next." Yamazaki pulls Poison a little closer to his face, until she can see the exact point where he took a crossbow bolt to the eye and somehow still has both eyes afterwards. "Are you listenin?" He clearly wants her full and undivided attention.
Far be it for Poison to fight off being manhandled. When he squeezes too tightly at first, she lets out a low whine, as if to inform him that her lungs aren't achieving their full potential. When his grip relents, she takes it as a sign that he's not going to kill her -- and that momentary flicker of fear passes, replaced by the thrill of speculating what he might do instead. She's hanging on every word, leaning into every unsubtle, near-violent touch.
Then, she's picked up. Poison bends her knees, reducing her proximity to the ground even further, and all but swooning in the maniac's grip -- as if that grip would even let her. For stability's sake, she grabs onto his massive arm, and enjoys the ride. Until he says that she needs to get out 'there.'
"--huh?" Poison says, pulled out of some unconscionably explicit daydream. Then he flexes -- the arm she's holding flexes -- and she lets go, that brief spark of fear igniting again, causing her sly grin to fade into a more unsettled expression. That holds as he brings her in closer, and closer, and closer. It's not that she's terrified of him, now. It's that she's captivated, like one of Dracula's dullard Romanian bitches.
"I'm listenin'," Poison replies, keeping eye contact as if it was somehow vital to stay alive.
You can count each and every one of the veins in Yamazaki's bloodshot eyes.
Poison's attention is completely focused on him, which is the way he likes it. Everyone in this prison yard should, by now, understand one thing. There are people who are to be fucked with in life, and then there's Yamazaki. But that's besides the point. Yamazaki's about to tell Poison what he thinks is so important. He breathes in... and just stops, grinning from ear to ear. =:D
In sequence, all of Yamazaki's knuckles pop as his grip tightens.
Uh oh.
Instead of saying well, much of anything at all, Yamazaki just takes one step to the south, winds up with Poison like she weren't much more than a very oddly shaped baseball, and -throws- her ragdoll ass clear out of the prison yard. Presumably he's aiming for the hilly forests to the south. She'll have a bunch of time to think on it though. Yamazaki can throw someone very, very far when he wants to.
"YOU TELL THOSE PENCIL STICKS-FOR-DICKS FUCKS OUT THERE THAT IF I GOTTA COME OUT THERE MYSELF I'M BRINGING THE MOTHER OF ALL ASSKICKINGS WITH ME!!" he yells after Poison's rapidly receding form. "NOBODY KEEPS ME PENNED UP--" --a guard jumps on him--a siren starts up--"YOU JUST FUCKING WAIT--"--yama punches an inmate in the face--"TELL THEM I'M COMIN FOR EM--"--ass flying everywhere--"GONNA MAKE A GODDAMN EGG ROLL CONDOM OUT OF HON FUCK--!!" they've got the yama riot team in there--"GONNA USE HIM TO DO HIS PARTN--"--they're dragging him off--"--YOU JUST WAIT!!"
"Hey -- you're -- you're playing a little rough--"
Poison only has time to get that much out before she's thrown clear over the horizon. She catches the very beginning of Yamazaki's tirade, but most of it fades into nothing, overtaken by the roar of air around her as she becomes a pink dot in the sky.
Once she's done being that, though, Poison begins falling to Earth. She lands on a hillside -- and tumbles down it, shrilly screaming curse words and trying to avoid shattering her limbs. She keeps tumbling down, and down, and down, and down, and down, and down, and down, and down.
It is, in fact, an exact rip of that one scene from the movie 'Hot Rod.'
Finally, Poison comes to a stop, when she plummets off of a small cliff and into a lake. After a few moments, she surfaces at the shore, spitting up both expletives and water. Drenched and sore, she's thoroughly miserable, which is not a feeling that usually accompanies her being drenched and sore. "Fucking -- but all my STUFF was back there! Fuck! FUCK FUCK FUCK!" Poison thrashes her arms around before flopping back, laying on the shore with her legs still in the water, and exhaling sharply.
She then reaches into her tanktop and pulls a fish out from between her breasts. "Fucking Yamazaki," she groans, as she casts the fish aside and lets it flop around, suffocating.
Log created on 19:45:08 12/12/2010 by Poison, and last modified on 23:15:14 12/12/2010.