A Witch Alone....

[Wanda spent the last few days mostly hiding in her room. She woke up from pleasant dreams of being truly free from the first time in her life to discover a week had passed, three people she had kind of liked had cooperated to unleash a horror onto the Barge just for the fuck of it, and most importantly--she is still trapped. The longer she is forced to stay, the more she suspects that she has long since proved worthy of "graduation" and that the Admiral is drawing things out, breaking his own rules to force her to stay longer. Suffer more. She's tired of it--tired of everything. Him, this place, how it is run, being forced to be a captive and subordinate to others who often do little, if anything, to exemplify the "greater good" they're supposed to be pushing people towards. It's all wrong, every bit of it. And she can't stand it anymore.]

[She appears onscreen in the midst of a room that has been completely disassembled, clothes and stacks of books laid out everywhere. The one chore she's assigning herself, outside of taking care of Fozzie and keeping up on practice, is deciding what to take with her when she goes. Planning to leave is the only thing keeping her halfway sane right now, but to those not clued in to that it looks like she randomly tore the place up.]

You know...I've been a model Inmate since the week I came here. I took a trustee job right away. I cooperated. I never hurt anyone regardless of whether they were trying to kill me at the time. I helped out when there were crises. The only thing "wrong" I ever did--and that only according to certain people with fragile, bloated egoes who think faked happiness should be mandatory--was refuse to pretend I wasn't miserable. In a normal prison, one that isn't staffed by so-called heroes, I would at least have gotten time reduced for good behavior. But here?

Here, I've watched mass murderers, megalomaniacs, psychotic perverts and other absolute scumbags graduate past me in a fraction of the time I have been here, often within days of doing something horrible to me or even to everyone. I've watched so-called "heroes" turn their backs on real problems, not only refusing to do anything about them but attacking me for bringing them up. Obviously needed reforms get ignored, and the people who point them out get shouted down. And people like me, who aren't that bad, or maybe just need a therapist instead of being fucking imprisoned, are forced to spend our days keeping company with ragingly evil psychos who could go off at any moment, and suffer the same Warden disdain and lack of privileges that they do.

All that being "good" has gotten me here, aside from rights that were granted to other Inmates just for showing up and having a buddy among the Wardens.... [She pauses. Yes, she's looking at you, Charles.] ...is exploited. Including by someone I thought was a friend.

[She leans back, folding her arms, a hard smirk on her lips.] In light of this mountain of bullshit...I quit.

Find someone else to feed half the Barge every lunch shift for months at a time. Find someone else to ward your doors and seal up the fucking hull when the next crazy bitch makes us crash. I've tried to contribute to the community here. I've done way more than my share. But now I realize is that all I've been doing is to help prop up a system that is royally screwed up and hurts more people than it helps. And yes, when Inmates work their asses off to save this place, and with a few exceptions most of what they get is the grudging admittance that "gee, maybe all Inmates aren't complete assholes"...there is something deeply wrong with the way this place is run.

As of now, and until that sociopathic piece of crap you guys work for lets me go, I'm taking a vacation. That means I will be spending my time as I damn well please, taking no orders and putting in no labor unless you're a personal friend and I feel like it. Any Warden whining can be directed to Laura, because she's the only one of you with any say in the damn matter, and one of the only ones who deserves respect.

[Inmates only, filtered away from Morgana, Junko, Toto and Ladd]
Yo, hey, whoever's in the pub, let me in, I need a drink. Anybody else need a drink? 

[later pub spam]
[Wanda has taken over a largish table in the corner near the jukebox, which she is poking at with small blue flashes of magic to try and reprogram it. Meanwhile she has every bit of Stones, AC/DC and every pot and booze related song she could find queued up. Fozzie pants away happily under the table. She's never brought him in before.]