CHAPTER ONE

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NEWSPAPER CLIPPING FROM THE MARCH 22ND, 2013 EDITION OF THE NEW YORK TIMES:

'New York City can finally sleep with a sense of safety once again.

At 3:06 this morning, the NYCPD announced that the leader of the New York City drug and prostitution rink, known as "Mindless Self Indulgence", had been arrested after a decade of tyranny. Lindsey "Lyn-Z" Ballato stepped up to the plate after former leader James Euringer, as known as "Little Jimmy Urine", had been arrested. After an hour long struggle, police were able to tranqulize the suspect before taking her into custody. We were able to interview Gerard A. Way, the detective assigned to Ballato's case.

"I'm glad that these last 12 years of work haven't gone to waste. First [Euringer], now [Ballato]. Honestly, I'm relieved. We can finally start cleaning up the streets, now that we've taken down the boss."

Ballato's trial has been set for September 23, 2013.'

"They could have at least included a picture of me. Aren't I pretty? I mean, look at me. Fucking gorgeous. No wonder Jimmy put me in charge. Smart and pretty. The whole shebang. You'd fuck me, Officer, wouldn't you? Oh, you wouldn't. Because you're fucking Officer Ross. Isn't that right?"

As usual, Miss Lindsey Ann Ballato of cell 305 in block A was talking the ear off the ear of the prison guard. The rattle-rattle-rattle of her chains against the iron bars of her cell ("Their handcuffs , Ballato, not a sex toy. The only reason there's extra chain length is so you can function") created a haunting melody that could be considered part of her prison repertoire, that also consisted of curses, screams, and ramblings. And the poor prison guard who was assigned to watching the solitarily-confined inmate, who this week was Officer Brendon Urie from the Las Vegas Police Department, a man personally asked to come up and hopefully subdue the mad-woman, was going mad himself.

"Ballato, go the fuck to sleep."
"How about you sing me a lullaby, first?" Lindsey mocked, tightly gripping the metal bars in her pale hands. Her nails were somehow neatly cut and filed which, as Officer Urie found, was achieved by chewing her nails then filing them on her cell wall. It just was another example of strange behavior that just proved the fact that this woman was not sane.

Officer Urie jumped as his walkie-talkie went off, screeching "Officer Urie, please bring Prisoner 475-890 to the interrogation room." Lindsey perked up, tilting her head and letting out a laugh.

"They found me guilty three years ago! What would they want with little ol' me?"
"Hush it, Ballato. You're coming with me."

Officer Urie unlocked her cell door, grabbing her chains and dragging her behind him. Lindsey liked her chains; they were made especially for her. They were handcuffs with a lengthing chain, giving her freedom to move her hands in front of her. In the center of the metal chain, there was a hook-like cuff piece that could easily be hooked onto something if someone with the key felt like chaining her up. And right now, she was being dragged by an officer.

"Oh, shut up with your laughter, Ballato. You known you've done something wrong."

Lindsey shrugged, as the two came upon the interrogation room. Officer Urie opened the door and threw Lindsey in, stepping in and slamming the door behind them. A fellow officer, who she recognized as Officer Wentz, pushed her forward into a chair, chaining her to the interrogation table. A third figure, who she didn't recognize at first, had his head down, messy black hair falling into his eyes as he lit a cigarette. He looked up as he tucked the cancer-stick in the left side of his mouth, making eye contact with the prisoner. Lindsey narrowed her eyes, recognizing the man behind the cig.

"Pass me a smoke, Way."
"Now, Lindsey," Gerard spoke, gently taking the cigarette between two fingers as he spoke, his voice sickly sweet as if he was mocking the woman he oh-so gladly locked up in this hell fest, "I'm not here to start a fight."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"I'm here to make a deal, Lindsey," he replied. He dropped the cigarette into the ash tray, resting his hands on the table and leaning forward, staring Lindsey in the eye.
"A deal?"
"A deal, Lindsey. A simple deal. You do something for me, I do something for you."
"Oh, really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. And what is this deal?"
"I have a certain, well, let's say, case," Gerard said, leaning his head, "And I believe you may be of assistance on this case."
"Well, I can assure you, Gerard, that I am of no help to you. I've been in here for the last three years, and I'll be here for the next twenty," Lindsey snarled.
"I'm not asking for your information. You see, to catch this criminal, I need to think like a criminal, or at least have someone on my side who can."
"You want me to help you?"
"I'm glad you could understand that. It's nice to see that prison hasn't dulled that...interesting brain of your's."
"Ha, ha. I see you're still a jokester, aren't you? But I'm not interested unless I can get something out of it."
"And that you will, Lindsey," Gerard said, sitting down in the chair across from her, "You see, in return for helping me, you can get something from me."
"I don't want sex from you. Anyone but you."
"No, no. A retrial. A referal. A shortening to your sentence. Or even...freedom."
"Freedom?" she asked. She didn't want to seem needy, but she could taste the freedom on her tongues. Chocolate, cigarettes, beer, paint. Freedom.
"Freedom, Lindsey Ballato. So, what do you say?"

A choice. He was giving her a choice. If she could just put up with him until they solved the case, if she could be on her best behavior, she could be free. She could start up the business again, make the cash. She could be free.

"Ballato, meet Way," she said, holding out her hand and giving him a smirk, "I'll accept the deal."
"Deal," Gerard nodded, taking her hand firmly and shaking it.

Freedom, Lindsey, freedom.

Freedom, Lindsey, freedom

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