Adagio was not one to bask in Mother Nature's displays of beauty. Her focus was always towards her goals, whether it be world domination or avoiding the temptation to commit suicide after being exposed to an hour of Sonata's 'Sonataness'. She'd always planned and deceit her future into fruition, rarely—if ever—sitting down and simply enjoying her surroundings. However, Adagio could do little more than gape in awe as she entered the work site.

What should have been a ceiling was replaced with the endless expansion that was the visible universe. To increase its magnificence, no obstruction blocked its appearance. If Adagio was a more philosophical siren, she would have noted that the display was one of cruel reality, beckoning prisoners the freedom they craved so dearly only to meet the harsh, never ending realm of deep space. To force the poor soul to continue on their post-mortal coil, endlessly, just as such the stars they've once envisioned as hope.

As she trudged along, witnessing the bare cosmos continuing their imperceptible dance, Adagio felt a melancholy smile creep across her features as she thought, that they too shared her eternal punishment.

Or she would've, had she a moment to think in the first place.

"Listen up, bitches! I know you fuck socks heard of the scuffle that the Warden had to discharge. Regardless of such events, work will resume as always. If any of you washed up dildo-junkies even think of slacking, I'll guarantee that you'll be begging for the broad side of an iron rod, jammed inside that dilapidated, pus-ridden dust bowl you call a vagina. Now get back to your designated post!" barked a guard. While she appeared to be like any other guard, the thing that stood her apart from the others was the cap resembling that of a drill sergeant on top her head (and the noticeably smaller chest).

However, this interesting tidbit held little importance to Adagio, who was currently swept into a sea of women, each dragged around in chains to individual lines containing different work. As she was handed a pickaxe, she soon caught on as to what she would have to do.

In front of her was a deep entrenchment of a violet, solo-iridescent, rock, and as she had guessed, the others around her were. It wasn't lodged within colorless, sedimentary rock to be classified as a gem, yet it's luster and glow definitely portrayed that of something more valuable than common gravel.

Just then, a low rumbling erupted from the mare beside her, slowing increasing and decreasing in crescendo before it became a steady rhythm. Soon more inmates joined in, pounding the mystery rock in a makeshift beat. Some even as far as include lyrics to the wordless song.

While she wasn't a definitive goddess of music—she'd damn will call herself one, though—Adagio felt prevalent discomfort from the tune. The over presence of baritone, lack of tonal balance, the repetitive lyrics, and the unnatural feeling of someone voicing over the tune irked her inner musician to no end.

There wasn't even a sultry undertone!

Unable to resist the urge any longer, the siren began her melody.

"Ah ahh ah, ahh AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Screamed the siren as a thousand volts of electro-pain coursed throughout her body, heavily focusing around her neck. The vocal shock soon became overbearing, to the point where simply screaming took all the energy she had.

"Well, looky here. A siren thought she could sing instead of work. What did I just say, slab? Were you too busy cleaning out the crusted dick juice in between your ears to listen? When I say get to work, you pull up your pants, stop digging in your cock pocket and GET TO WORK!" barked the sergeant, metaphorically (and/or literally) bitch-slapping Adagio out of her stupor.

However, before she could conjure enough brain power to form any type of response, the guard-bot continued on.

"…What is your name, private?" she said. Her bone chillingly calm tone and the various prisoners visually tensing up was a clear sign of an impeding verbal slaughter.

"Excuse me?" responded the siren, meekly.

"Slut, I asked for your name. Answer. Me. Now." Whatever faux calmness that laid in her voice was gone, murdered by the hoard of ice filling her words.

"Uh…it's Ada—"

"BITCH, I DON'T GIVE A SIDEWAYS FUCK FROM A MANIC ORPHAN WHO YOU ARE! YOU GOT ONE DIRECTIVE, SLUT, AND THAT'S BREAKING THAT ERIDIUM. CAN THAT LITTLE ONE-TRACK-SEX AMPLIFIER YOU CALL A BRAIN HANDLE THAT, OR DO I HAVE TO FUCK IT INTO YOU?"

The sudden interruption/insult caused the siren to flinch, leaving her eardrums shuddering in fear for another onslaught.

"N-no ma'am, I'll—"

"MA'AM?! Slut, do I look like a ma'am to you? Am I courting around the grand ball, sucking royal dick as I powder my nose with cocaine? I will be addressed as Sir, or if a cockney cunt like you want to act formal, S4R-G3NT!"

"Yes, sir," Adagio replied, hastily. Never had she ever addressed another in such a way unless it was drowned in sarcasm. To say it without a drop of snarkiness was…dirty.

Nothing was sexy about it.

"Good, NOW GET BACK TO WORK!" And with that, The Sergeant stormed off, proceeding to another mare who was trying to stuff the handle of a pickaxe inside herself.

As she left Adagio's area, the mares that were in the vicinity exhaled their bated breaths. Apparently the verbal asswhoopin' that was served was enough to cause everyone to tuck in their tails. No one dared to start another prison sing-a-long.

"Thanks a lot, siren," said a mare to her side, bitterly.

"Yeah, way to go."

"Watch your back, siren."

"Fuck you, siren."

"Enjoy your teeth while you can."

"I'LL SCRAPE YOUR FACE FROM MY FINGERNAILS!"

One after the other, more and more mares confessed their new found hatred for Adagio, and as each threat became more aggressive/sexual than the last, Adagio realized the gravity of the situation.

"What the hell is eridium?"

Author's Note

The long ~~dreaded~~ awaited next chapter!

Sorry for not posting anything about why I put this on hiatus for so long, but going back to school kinda screwed me—like everything in my life—over (first day back, homework. From every. Bloody. Class.)

Regardless, it's my fault.

Tata~