***Aria 1.8***
The mashed potatoes were cold, and the sliced carrots weren't doing much better, being lukewarm orange discs. The main course was a cutlet of chicken, free of any sort of seasoning or garnish. Sure, there were a few other pieces of food on Annette's plate, like some jello dubiously described as being cherry flavored, and a dinner roll. However, none of them really managed to drag out the feelings of loss and disgust more than the dried out piece of meat sitting on her plate. Charred worse than a ruined steak, apparently the cook in charge thought well-done applied to Poultry too. On the bright side, she wasn't going to be getting salmonella anytime soon.

It really drove home how much she missed real food. The fact that her Husband could at least cook more or less sealed the deal when she'd weighed the pros and cons. Mind you it was American fare, nothing like the food she grew up with, but anything was better than the detritus looking back at her at the moment.

It was one of the small things she appreciated about Danny, alongside the fact he treated her the way she deserved. – Well, that and his temper which seemed to bubble just under the surface, one with which she could empathize and as some might find strange, even liked. It was a shame really. Her poor prince, so focused on building and uplifting, rarely allowing himself the pleasure of tearing something down, watching those around you gasp in astonishment at your boldness.

Annette prodded her meal with a plastic fork. Her thoughts provided her an apt enough distraction before she finally swallowed her pride and stuck a piece in her mouth. It tasted exactly as it looked like, plain and slightly off. Not like the meat had gone bad, more ...indescribable. One small thing. An out of place aftertaste that left the one eating it worried. Unable to name why they couldn't enjoy it. Just that deep sense that something was amiss with the food dragging itself across your tastebuds.

She finished the meal as quickly as she could, like she usually did, trying to get through the painful exercise in learning how to appreciate the finer things in life and shoved the tray aside. Nothing left to do now but try to survive the next twenty minutes of waiting. Every day the shrink would show up after lunch and begin to prod her mind once more, hoping for a breakthrough that would let him take her apart and put her back together as a 'functional member of society'. Even if he succeeded, Annette would still need to serve out a life sentence in her luxurious cell. Just without the added ego boost of the mass' fear. Exaltation came in many forms, why not bask in it?

She sat on her bed, back to the wall, contemplating how this session was gonna go. Would he break into her relationship with her family? How she met Danny? How she felt every time she ended a life– or if she felt anything at all?

The gate to the wing slammed open with the familiar thunks marching down the concrete floor following it up. She closed her eyes and counted the seconds until she'd have to feign fighting the demons forced upon her. Yesterday it'd taken fifteen, the day before seventeen. The doctor must've been in a rush; the footsteps ended after eleven seconds today. The voice that addressed her would've been an unpleasant surprise, had it not been for the fact that it broke the routine.

"Shatterbird, hands to the wall, back to the door. Now!" The voice delivered the orders with an unnatural fervor, the woman's domineering tone almost throwing Annette for a loop. The warden was just as used to getting what she wanted as the prisoner was. Were it not for their relative positions of power she would've been tempted to shout back.

Annette obeyed, barely opening her eyes to navigate the small room. Gritted teeth once more held back all signs of resistance. She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, forcing it to remain motionless, letting any complaints wither and die in her mind. She could at least appreciate the fact that the woman wasn't a pushover. With a screech, the cell door slid open and a few seconds later wandering hands began to search the prisoner as she held back a few gags.

"She's clean and the collar's clear," the guard said curtly.

The warden spat out the words "Alright, Shatterbird you can turn around." like they tasted bad, as though saying the prisoner's cape name made her want to gargle some mouthwash before continuing. Annette obeyed, turning about-face until she was looking the mountain of a woman in the eye.

She was sitting down in a folding chair that the cape had been too busy trying not to lash out or struggle to even hear anyone set up. A dirty blonde, she normally stood three inches taller over Annette's brow. Her silhouette reminded Annette of a bear: bulky, powerful, and with a demeanor to match. The warden was flanked by one of the wing's on duty troopers, weapon hanging around his shoulder by a strap and held one-handed by its pistol grip.

"Where's The Doctor?" Annette asked nonchalantly, examining a little dirt that was beneath her fingernails, wishing that she hadn't eaten lunch and soiled her fork, the only implement she had access to that could have removed the offending speck. Pencils left graphite marks beneath the nail. It helped to act disinterested; that was the key. To make Baker feel small, beneath her interest. It never failed to bother people so used to their title giving them authority they had no right to have. Loretta, while not quite an exception, at least didn't act like a child given free reign of a candy store; she had a respect for the power she wielded. It made these sorts of talks much less annoying.

"Your session has been postponed, he'll see you an hour before dinner."

"Well, then to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"You know why I'm here."

"Hardly."

"She quit."

"Who?"

"You know who, the woman you terrorized yesterday."

"Ah, so our dearest art teacher was ill-equipped to deal with a critique of her work? If that's all it took you should be thanking me. When some token adversity is enough to drive your employees to other pastures you might need to reconsider who you hire."

"You threatened to choke her to death."

"I reminded her of where she worked. A prison, filled with the worst gangsters and murderers Brockton has to offer. I was giving her a sense of perspective, not that haze she seemed to have clouding her senses."

"Well, you should be proud of yourself then. Her eyes are wide open and she doesn't feel safe here anymore. That means two hundred prisoners, distributed over ten, hour and a half long segments, twenty prisoners each. Now, all that time and skill can be put to work making shanks rather than Paper mache. It's also the third time we've had to escort you back to your cell in the past two months."

"Is that any different than everyone else in this building wearing a jumpsuit? I made a few comments. How Carrolway chose to interpret them isn't my problem. "

"The PRT seems to agree with me when I say that isn't the case," Loretta replied, voice stern, a hint of smugness coming off from the way she emphasized the three letter initialism.

Annette looked back at the Warden's expression as it stood stolid and grim, letting the sentence's possible implications hold their own weight. The meaning crawled across the lobes of her brain as she tried to not think of the worst case scenario. They wouldn't! She'd given them one of the greatest PR victories the Protectorate could ask for! It would be insane for them to throw it all away!

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know who's technically in charge of the prisoners in this wing?"

"That's irrelevant to the conversation. I'm asking you again. What do you mean the–" Annette tried to repeat the question only to be shut down by her opponent.

"It's very relevant, inmate. Normally I have the autonomy to make choices and dispense punishments as needed regarding the incarcerated parahumans in my wing. With your case, however, the PRT wants any major decisions signed off by a pre-approved advisor. Especially decisions affecting the 'Arrangements' put in place. You could say I need to have mom or dad sign off the permission slip before I do anything that might make little old Shatterbird mad."

Annette blinked quickly and she took a deep breath through her nose as boredom bloomed into discontent, lips curling into a scowl. She could hear the blood pumping inside her ears as her heart went into overdrive. Gasoline flowed through her veins, ready to be ignited into a vast conflagration! What did they do! What did this Ogre do!

She could do little else but demand an answer. Ms. Baker's need for suspense might've been the kind of games Annette used to play with her prey, but she wasn't going to be on the receiving end any longer than she could help it.

"Well then, are you going to make me angry?" It was her turn to spit out words, each syllable feeling like phlegm that needed to hacked up from her throat as they vibrated up her vocal cords.

"I don't know. I'm only making a few choices. How you choose to react to them isn't my problem." She said with no small part of pleasure. How cute, parroting her words like she was making some sort of point.

"Your visitation privileges are suspended until further notice, and your minutes on the phone cut to a third of the normal amount. Unlike the woman you scared shitless, you can't exactly quit being a prisoner because of it."

The trooper sprung into action, raising his weapon ever so slightly, stopping Annette in a step forward she hadn't even realized she was about to make. She took another breath, a deeper one this time and fought to smooth out her emotions, putting her portrait-like mask back on to avoid getting dragged home in a body bag. If the warden had thought she was going to be attacked she didn't show it. The only indication she'd even noticed the outburst was when the blonde locked her fingers together over her lap and leaned back in the chair, adopting a slightly less formal posture.

"You can't do that. I made a bargain and fulfilled my end of it!" she retorted bitterly as she stepped back and returned her hands to her sides. Besides, Annette wasn't in any position to deal a killing blow; best to wait. Better opportunities to even the score would open up later on if the desire to wrap her fingers around the warden's neck until her face was a pleasant shade of purple still howled in its cage at the back of Annette's psyche.

The warden's gaze was unmoving. Piercing eyes that could send any low ranking ABB member or freshly shaved skinhead scurrying for cover were matched by a stare of equal intensity. It was as though they'd created a game out of who could intimidate who first. Neither of them budged until Ms. Baker ended the contest, saying her piece matter of factly.

"You're also pressing the limits of that deal. You agreed to plead guilty and not make waves in exchange for extended visitation and phone call duration, and of course, to avoid The Birdcage. The first is a privilege given to inmates that obey the rules, just like that art class you ruined. It's all under my purview so long as your case monitor agrees it's necessary. Frankly, we should've taken action sooner. These measures will continue until the end of the month, any more incidents and I'll extend the punishment to last six months. Anything after that means I'll be having a talk with the PRT about finding another facility better equipped to handle you. I don't need to give you a hint about where I have in mind."

You're just loving this aren't you. I play along! So what if one person can't handle a simple opinion! I gave you everything you wanted! Annette howled in her mind. She had the sword of Damocles hanging over her head, and the warden had a pair of scissors at the ready to snip the thread and make the blade plummet down onto her neck.

She couldn't do this! Annette wouldn't let her do this! Cut her off from her family! Her child! her husband! Not without fighting back! But what could she do that wouldn't also ruin everything she worked for?

She cocked her head, holding an icy expression as she ran various scenarios in her head. Could she move fast enough to grab the handheld linked to the collar? She doubted it, and even then there was no way to tell if there was some sorta finger scanner on the damnable thing, or even just a simple password she wasn't privy to. Maybe there was a traditional key she could steal from an unaware guard, in case the handheld was broken or...hell if she knew. Uncharged? There were too many unknowns to make a move. She wasn't even sure yet if it was worth it.

The warden raised an eyebrow, whether in surprise, amusement, or simple acknowledgment of the request Annette didn't really care. She needed to do something more. She couldn't just let them go against their word. Penance needed to be paid for this transgression.

"I want to talk to my case monitor," she growled through gritted teeth and her voice filled with vitriol.

"You have his number. "

"Well, are we done then?"

"I suppose. Though I would think you would rather use the extra fifteen minutes on the phone I've set aside to inform your loved ones," she said as she produced a flip phone from her pocket and flung it onto Annette's cot.

It was Annette's turn to cock her eyebrow. "What is this?" she said through gritted teeth, her lips curled into a frown. The mask dropped to the floor. The sheer insolence! Implying she didn't care, insulting her with the pretense that the jailbird didn't care while claiming to have the moral high ground!

"Call it courtesy. Be thankful I'm showing it. I think they'd rather have you explain the situation than one of our secretaries. Still your choice. You can file your complaint, inform your loved ones, or even give Carrolway an apology for all I care. The guard outside will retrieve the phone when you're done. He'll keep track and inform you when your time is up," the warden answered with a shrug and rose from her seat and folded it up before she left the room. The trooper that served as her bodyguard trailed behind her. He tugged the cell shut with a heavy metal clank that served to remind everyone within earshot it was securely locked as he took position outside.

Annette stared at the phone, fingers tight around its plastic shell as she tried to plot the best course of action. Slowly her finger began to dance across the keypad. Her heart became heavy as the dial tone began to sound over the line and she pressed the device to her ear. There were needs, and then there were wants. She didn't really know which category this one fit into.

The warden was playing games, she knew this much. Why else corner her in her cell like this and inform her personally? The woman would pay. Shatterbird always got her pound of flesh. Annette waited, bathed in anticipation, hoping someone would pick up the phone on the other end. The ringer let out another digital whine for the fifth time.