The year was 2019. Most humans thought that by that time another world war would happen. They were right, but when they thought world war, they thought nation against nation. Not world against Superjail.
The war of Superjail has been going on for only a year, but already the Earth's surface has been turned into a barren wasteland.
In most places there were few to no buildings left from all the bombing and fires. Armies only had tents to live in and remaining survivors who weren't captured had only abandoned, falling down buildings and shacks, or even nothing.
Superjail though had many tall, menacing towers and huge and grand bases and headquarters filled with soldiers and technology. Not to mention Superjail itself was still standing.
Even with hundreds of armies and forces and rebel fighters up against them, Superjail still reined supreme. They already took out all of Africa and South America, along with the Middle East, Eastern Europe, and many small islands and nations.
With all the fighting, millions of innocent people had been killed and millions of people were also captured and enslaved and all at the hands of one sick, twisted, sadistic, and psychotic man.
He was so close to achieving his dream as world dictator and would do anything to accomplish it.
The Warden, at forty, with slighty graying hair, has completely abandoned his childish ways he had and loved only years ago. But he knew that to accomplish his dream he had to mature. And he did and now he was a sensible, practical, brilliant General. And he knew what his past self would see him as: Boring. Dull. No fun. Just the kind of person he used to hate.
He thinks that as he walks down the once vibrant colored, now white and grey, walls of Superjail. He also replaced his purple suit and top hat to something more fitting for a General, a black and dark green military uniform with the Superjail emblem stitched on both sleeves, a dark purple cloak, and a spiked helmet also with the Superjail emblem. He still had his black cane with the amber orb on top though.
He opened the door to his office and saw something he hadn't expected to see nor something he would ever expect to see.
There was a young lady, nineteen or twenty. Sitting in his office. In his chair. Her legs we straight out in front of her, hands neatly folded in her lap. She wore a small smile on her face. The Warden almost gasped at the sight of such mindless intrusion of his office.
She did not greet him. Her messy dark brown hair layed in tangles around her full pale face. The Warden stared at her with his beady brown eyes as she stared back with her small blue ones. He examined her clothing. Her pale blue jeans had mud and grass stains all over them and her black camisole and dark unbuttoned shirt were also stain covered and torn. The Warden almost grinned as her disheveled look. Her eyes were bloodshot with bags under them. He could only hope his other prisoners were an even more ghastly sight.
The Warden decided to have a change of heart and not send her to her death. He needed a new test dummy. The Warden didn't call Jailbot, he didn't pull a gun on her, he didn't tell her to get out. He just simply asked," Who are you?"
"I'm Muse, in the sins of the flesh." She gave a weary smile. She maybe had some sort of accent but the Warden didn't care well enough to listen, he was more intent on what that flesh metaphor was.
Warden kept his cool, which was out of character usually, but he was in a good mood that day. He wanted to test the dummy. He was sure she was a dummy just by the fact that she was in ~his~ office.
"And just how did you get in here Miss, um?"
"Mavrick, Muse Mavrick." She said in a quiet manner. She kept her, somewhat grin. It was more of just the corners of her mouth raised slightly.
"Right, how did you get here?" Superjail was heavily guarded at all times, not to mention on an island in the middle of absolute nowhere inside of a volcano. So he thought maybe she escaped from the enslavement camp on the island, but she looked as if she hadn't completely given up hope on life. This certainly angered him.
Her answer was simple," Magic, man. Magic." And also not at all helpful to the Warden. He shot an intimidating glare. She shrugged,"I was brought here to the island."
He concluded that she ~was~ most likely and escapee from the camp. Bad, bad choice. He remained calm even though his patience was quickly being tested, "And what are you doing here?" He asked.
She stood up and walked to the side of the desk. She was of average build all around," I wanna work for you, so just hear me out, for now."
She stood right in front of him and he saw just how short she was, almost too short. He straightened his stance even more as a way to intimate her, but she only too half a step back"I know it sounds rather odd but it's better than being out there. I can be useful, like an assistant. I wanna be on Team Superjail cause it's either killed by it or protected by it. Let me be your loyal employee of the most powerful team in the world."
Confusion overtook him at the sound of that. Work for him? He'd met people who would rather die a slow, torturous death rather than be a follwer. Maybe he could some help around there. With Jared mainly specializing in weapons detail, he doesn't have anyone doing the boring work.
But still he wasn't too sure. She could be an undercover operative from another country sent to get intel about Superjail. Yes! That must be it, a secret agent! Not many people would just show up in the office of the most powerful and deadly man in the world of it wasn't for some suicidal operation. He just needed to find out.
Her stance was confident, almost arrogant. He hated aggorance. He sought out arrogance and scraped it down until it was nothing less of absolute insecurity, "I'm not some secret undercover spy out to get you. I just want some type of power. Being an assistant usually isn't powerful but when it's for a force taking over the world, it's pretty damn powerful. I'll do anything really, even janitor. But an interrogator would be really cool." Her smile grew wider, showing that all her teeth were a dull yellow color and some were weared down.
Interrogator? He was interrogator. Well, now he was, he had others before but none seemed to work out. He smirked deviously to himself as a dark idea crossed his crazed imagination. He had a few reasons for such an idea. One; he wasn't still too positive she was telling the truth when she said she wasn't a spy. Two; if it turns out she was telling the truth, it would be a great teaching lesson. Three; he wanted to scrape down the arrogance she so desperately reeked of.
He turned slightly and began walking to his desk and leaned on it,"And what makes you think you have what it takes to be an interrogator. It's a gruesome task. Convince me to let you work here for nothing other than protection from my forces, but not so much from me." He lowered his head and smirked again.
Muse looked to be deep in thought for a while. She was tilting her head and biting her lip as if lost in her own mind,"Well then, this is no prepared speech, but here goes. Well, just let me say that I'm a big fan of your work," The goodness in her eyes was as absent as his," Sure, you killed all my family and friends and are the 21st century Hitler, but whatever, that's what I like about you. And it's not like I had friends in the first place. You're a psychopath, and I'm a really bad judge of character, so. You act you belong in a mental institution and that's great. And you're the most powerful person on the planet, that's awesome. I wanna somehow be apart of that no matter how insignificant it is. I like powerful, I wanna be powerful. I wanna be apart of this hige destructive force! And do it like I don't have a care in the world, just like you," She chuckled and smiled at him," You're a bad influence, you know that? But I can't do what you do, so I'll just settle for interrogator, it's good enough for me. And trust me," She put her hand over her heart," You'll be surprised on what my sick mind and twisted subconscious can come up with. I like to think it's top notch, but maybe not, who knows? I sure don't. " She finished her speech and put a big cheesy grin on her face.
He sat down at his desk with his elbows up and his hands folded in front of his mouth. Muse stood with that cheesy smile and hands clasped in front of her.
"Well, I've got to say," Her grin grew wider from anticipation,"I've heard better," Her smile fell a bit and the Warden almost laughed as he scribbled something down on a notepad,"But, I've also heard worse pleas. So, not bad." He turned to put the sticky note on the window behind him, making his window even more cluttered with random notes,"I will say, Miss Mavrick-"
"Call me Muse, boss."
The Warden groaned,"Ugh, muse, that means inspiration and the last thing I want for anyone on this doomed Earth is any little spark of hope that I can be stopped. Can't stop," He snapped the pencil he had in his hand in half from pure fury,"Won't stop."
Her expression grew blank,"Oh. Well. Muse is just a name I gave myself. Legally. It was my nanny's idea."
"Hmhmm, I guess I can deal with that. Anyway, that was compelling, in a way. Nice to see a young person so influenced."
She nodded her head in appreciation, " Thank you," After she said that, her whole demeanor changed, she went from looking very sure of herself to looking like she was going to have a heart attack,"I'm really nervous actually, I think I'm gonna pass out. Oh god, this is nerve racking. I'm gonna die now aren't I?"
" No, not yet. You did very well," He then got a dark look on his face and a sly grin to go with it. He stood, adjusted his uniform, and cleared his throat," But maybe first before I give you a definite answer I should, test you out, see if you got what it takes."
He walked over to the door and opened it, gesturing her to exit.
"Fantastic. Like to see how I would handle a real interrogation?" She walked out into the hall.
"Yes, to see how you would handle a real interrogation."
And that was the last thing Muse had heard before the Warden swung his cane into her head.