jojo's bizarre adventure oneshots!

anasui - hooked on a feeling

Sometimes it was surprising just how stupid the human brain could be. With all the advanced technology in the new era, you believed that there wouldn't be so many inmates in the world, and yet here they were, being stupid. It kept you in business, though. You were a counselor, more specifically the only reliable counselor at Green Dolphin Street Prison. The other three counselors who shared the same job title as you were only in for the killer salary, not at all interested in helping the inmates in the slightest. You, however, had a little more compassion than them, thankfully.

You had studied for eight long years at the University of Florida and succeeded in achieving your bachelor's degree in psychology and emotional trauma. It took a while, but the torturous lectures and sleepless nights had been worth it. Your job was interesting, sometimes even exciting, and you were paid a pretty penny for essentially just talking to the prisoners four days a week. It wasn't hard at all, and in all honesty, you felt better when you consoled the suffering patients, knowing that slowly but surely they were becoming well. It brought a smile to your face most days.

Flashing your ID card to the guards at the gate and after a brief pat down, you stepped into the medical bay area where you found your white coat that you were required by law to wear. It was a wretched little thing, too tight around the chest to button up, leaving you to have it open all the time. It caused problems sometimes, an inmate getting too friendly and subsequently becoming quite handsy. Very few times you had to call in the guard to remove them from you, usually you would give them a not so gentle reminder to kindly buzz off with those actions.

You mainly dealt with the female prisoners, seeing that you were in a mostly female blockade. Every once in a while, though, you would see some male prisoners. They usually were the quiet or more emotionally traumatized ones. You felt more sympathetic towards them, it was often their mental state that landed them where they were. You had a particular inmate who visited you the most. His name was Rocco Abbott, a convicted serial killer. Rocco had been suffering from psychopathic tendencies since he was a child, and it made you sympathetic for him. It wasn't his choice and wasn't his fault he was never treated for his tendencies. If the world had given just a few more damns, maybe he wouldn't have brutally murdered 13 young men, but it was too late now. Rocco would never see the light of day as a free man ever again.

He was a reoccurring visitor, but mainly came to escape his fellow inmates. Other convicts and similar criminals would jeer and spit at Rocco for being the quietest and softest voiced man out of them all. Of course, these men had been arrested at a time when masculinity was thought to have been rough voices and loud behaviour, so who were they to bully a prisoner from a later time? Rocco's voice was pleasant to listen to, like listening to a speaking lullaby. It was soft and gentle, with a small hint of brassiness. You really enjoyed his presence. Sometimes, you even were... excited  for Rocco's next appointment. It was unprofessional, yes, but you never exhibited this behaviour. As long as it was internal, no one would know.

Today was as any other day. You had the usual amount of inmates come in for their session, and then promptly leave after having you listen to them. As your lunch break creeped nearer, a new face showed up. He was remarkably handsome: with a chiseled jaw, unnervingly bright violet eyes and the strangest outfit you had ever seen. A fishnet top with... pink footsteps? To each their own, you supposed. This stranger was escorted in by the guard, who promptly sat him down and handcuffed him to the desk he sat at, leaving only enough room for him to pick up a pencil. Sliding the inmate's info to you on a small clipboard, the guard left and stood outside the door readily, calling to you, "If MA28050 does anything even remotely threatening, call me in". You looked over the information given to you. Narciso Anasui.. Narciso Anasui! You knew this man! He had made the newspaper, news, articles, practically any form of media for a good few weeks. The story said that he had chopped up and brutally mutilated his girlfriend and another man in the same bed. Other articles also claimed he was delusional and mentally unsound, which seemed a little apparent from the severity of the murder. But that was bias, and you were not allowed to be biased towards your patients.