(OOC: Let me know if this doesn't work Librarian. This is the Camp kitchen, where all meals for both mutants and guards are cooked. Betsy Blagg is in charge (Profile in Guards List) Continued from Men's Camp Anyone with Kitchen Duty can post here.)

Betsy stormed from the women's side into the men's side like a hurricane. She was soaking wet from having slipped on the wet floor that dark-skinned back-talker had been cleaning, while she'd attempted to break up the fight among the women. Betsy knew that hadn't been an accident. She was so furious right now she just wanted them all gone, out of her Cafeteria.

Yes, it was her Cafeteria. Her Cafeteria and her kitchen, and she dared anyone, anyone to challenge her on that. She swiped an electronic keycard, which unlocked the door in between the two sides of the Mess Hall. The soundproof glass slid open silently, then shut behind her.

"I WANT EVERYONE OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, the bellow echoing off of the walls and shaking the eatware. She ignored the fact that most of the mutants had already begun being moved out.

She moved into the kitchen area through another coded door. The instant the door shut behind her she grabbed a metal spoon and a huge metal pot from the equipment shelf. She slammed it into the sink with a teeth-rattling BAANNNG!! and turned the water on full force. Then she turned to the other woman and men scattered about the kitchen.

"QUIT GAWKING AND GET COOKING!! DINNER'S IN FIVE HOURS AND ANYONE WHO SCREWS UP IS GOING TO BE THE MAIN INGREDIENT IN TOMORROW'S LUNCH SPECIAL SURPRISE!!! MOVE IT!!!!"

The underlings began rushing around as if their feet were on fire. Considering two of the cooks had already been sent to the infirmary with minor concussions from being beaned upside the head with canned goods and/or potatoes and apples, they felt it better to heed their Chief's warning. Silently they gave thanks that, starting after dinner, some of the mutant inmates would be drafted in to handle the brunt of both the manual labor and Betsy's wrath....

Raina was shoved into the kitchen still stinking of burnt skin. She was shakily making her way hoping the person in charge would just give her orders instead of ask her questions. She couldnt talk. She didn't know if she could talk again. She saw other mutants putting on aprons so she did the same- marvelling at some of their outright mutations. A boy with spikes, a girl with flaming hair, another with skin that looked like steel. They all wore collars like she did, and they all seemed to be withstanding pain like she was. She waited for instructions but saw some mutants cleaning so she decided to do the same until someone else told her otherwise. She wondered if emmy was ok

The first batch of mutants to enter the kitchen were given dish duty. Holding a skillet, Betsy clomped over and tossed a plastic wrapped package at each one; in each package were an apron, plastic gloves, and a hairnet.

"The first one of you freaks I catch without this stuff on goes to Isolation," she all but yelled at them. "The next one gets to clean the grease traps for a week."

"And the third one?"

Betsy's answer to the man smart remark was a backswing with the skillet that connected with the side of his head with a solid THUNKK!! He collided with the prep table, trying to catch himself from falling. In a swift motion Betsy set the skillet on the prep table and snatched up a meat-tenderizing hammer, metal in material. She stalked forward, grabbed his wrist, and brought the hammer down with a heavy swing. He screamed in pain as his pinky and ring finger broke on impact. Besty grabbed his shirt collar and pulled in right to her face.

"Why don't you be the third one, and find out," she growled out. Then she turned to the others. "Well? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!!" There was a rustle of plastic as the packages were opened and the content donned. Meanwhile Betsy thrust the injured mutant at one of the guards overseeing them. "Get him bandaged up, then get him back here, ASAP. He's got a double duty to finish." She returned the man's pained and angry glare with an almost feral grin. Behind her, one of the human cooks was already cleaning away the blood and sterilizing the table and hammer.

Once the dishwashers were set up, potatoe peelers in place, and onion choppers crying, she turned back to the pot of stew she'd begun. The stew was for the guards dinner, and had identifiable chunks of vegetables and meat. She had been told that she could not make decent, in her mind, food for the mutants. While she was not a fan of mutants in general, and agreed with the view that most of them needed to be locked away from society, she was a chef at heart. And no chef worth his or her salt would left food go out that they wouldn't eat themselves. Yet that's what she was being forced to do. Thus, she was taking her wrath out on everybody, guards included. If they wanted to eat better, then they'd better order it themselves.

Suddenly she sniffed the air, a distasteful expression on her face. "What's burning? I'll skin anyone I catch burning anything!"

Then her gaze landed on the woman that had bled all over her Cafeteria floor. Instantly Betsy's face flushed with anger. "They put YOU in here??" Abruptly the anger drained, replaced by a downright evil grin. "All right. I can work with that. Get over here!"

She grabbed the girl's dress and dragged her to one of the tables, where a ten-pound bag of jalepenoes sat. She handed the girl a slightly dulled paring knife. She had no qualms about the mutants getting hold of anything sharp in the kitchen because, in her words, "If you're going to attack me, you'd better kill me. Because if I get back up, you won't be."

"I want the whole ten pounds deseeded and diced. Not chopped, not minced. DICED. I suggest you don't cut yourself or touch your eyes. Or your neck."

Ten pounds wouldn't take long at all. But for most people, doing such a job without gloves would leave their skin throbbing by the end. Using a dull knife would make the juice and oil squirt, a menace to eyes and face. And touching any kind of a cut, bruise, scrape, or any sensitive part of the body like eyes or tongue, would sting like acid.

And if the woman didn't come off the worse for the wear, Betsy would still win, once the evening's stew worked its way through the guards colons that is....

Raina was lurched forward and sat infront of a menacing looking bag of what looked like some sort of pepper. Raina hadn't really seen peppers whole before. Only what she'd gotten on pizza. She looked up them with mild distaste- but she had nothing else to do so she picked one up and began to cut.
Her eyes seered in pain as the juice freakishly squirt in her face. She resisted the urge to groan knowing she'd be better for it, and whiped her eyes on her sleeve. They were now puffy and red and she couldnt see much, but she continued on anway.
She wondered what they could possibly eat with these things in them, or if maybe they were for the guards. She thought maybe since she was working in the kitchen she could swipe some food to take back for some of the vegetarians or the children- but from the look of this chef she wouldnt get far.
So she sat, and she diced.

Fifteen minutes later Betsy returned to the table, leaned down so her head was right next to Raina's ear, and yelled, "SPEED IT UP!! I HAVEN'T GOT ALL DAY!! AND YOU'RE CHOPPING THEM TOO BIG!! MAKE 'EM SMALLER!! AND QUIT CRYING ALL OVER MY FOOD!!!![/U]"[/B]

A bowl was slammed down to put the cut peppers in, before Betsy moved away to yell at someone else. The woman's collar kept her from back-talking, but her dark-skinned friend had made up for it. And since her friend wasn't here to speak for her, Betsy took the opportunity to make life as difficult as possible for the head-shaved woman. There would be no pleasing the chef, no matter how closely directions were followed.[/color]

(OOC: Sorry it's short; writer's block. )

Hours passed as Raina continued to cut peppers and do whatever other task the chef ordered her to do. By the time dinner time rolled around her hands were stinging and a dark red colour that smelled like pepper juice and burned the nose. When all the veggies were chopped and sat along a counter in their individual bowls Raina felt exhausted. She knew it would be supper time soon but she just didn't feel like she had enough energy to eat.

ooc: I kinda fast forwarded a bit. just to keep things moving.

Betsy made sure a continuous supply of peppers, onions, garlic, lemons and various other such 'interesting' ingredients found their way to Raina's table for chopping or juicing, keeping her busy the four and a half hours until dinner.

Grabbing the girl's shirt with one hand, and another mutant with the other, she dragged the two over to one of the human sous chefs, if they could be considered that in this excuse of a kitchen. They were more like glorified fast food cashiers.....

"Gather 'em up and get 'em ready to serve. If I find any hair in anything, double duty tomorrow and a day in Isolation."

As everyone bustled out, Betsy was left alone for a brief few minutes. She walked over to the the five giant pots of gruel specified for the mutants; there were an overabundance of pure'ed carrots this time, giving it a funky orange appearance. She reached into one of the shelves and extracted a plain, unlabelled cannister. She opened it, and dumped a scoop of the tasteless white power into each pot, then stirred it in until it dissolved in the heat. Replacing the lid and cannister, she headed out to the line herself.

ooc: hmm... wonder what that is.

Ic:

Raina nodded and set to work preparing the food to be served. She portioned it out into bowls and poured water and stacked the dry bread. It wasnt hard to worry about hair since she had none. She balanced a few trays and started heading out to the cafeteria line and laying things out.
She looked around to the other faces searching for some that she recognised. She missed the boys- and wondered what Ted was doing.

(OOC: Just waiting for the rest of the camp to catch up in the timeline. And the powder is a sedative/power restrictor, approved by Librarian. More on that later. )

(OOC: Okay, jumping this thread ahead the 7 weeks to keep in sync with the rest of the board.)

Neena entered the kitchen with her arms piled high with aprons and dishcloths, an empty laundry basket strapped to her back. The head 'chef', Betsy, as usual was bellowing at one of the kitchen workers.

"I SAID GARLIC POWDER, NOT GRANULATED, YOU IMBECILE!!" The chunky woman lifted a bowl containing pureed tomatoes, and overturned it on the head of a cringing young teenager. "START OVER!!!" The boy skittered to obey, moving as fast as he could, heading toward the pantry and the canned goods. Betsy shouted after him, "MESS UP AGAIN AND ITS LEMON JUICING AND ORANGE PEELING FOR A WEEK!!!" Considering the young mutant was allergic to citrus fruits, the threat held weight.

Neena paused in the doorway, glancing around the stack of laundry.

Betsy spotted her, and growled. "What are YOU looking at Klutzilla?"

Neena shook her head and quickly hid her face back behind the towels."Nothing."

Betsy narrowed her eyes and lips to slits. She relished wailing on the dark-skinned woman that had stood up to her, on Day One of the camps. But, unlike the majority of the uniformed officers at the camps, Betsy preffered to wait until there was a reason to beat the mutants. It was much more satisfying when the freaks knew they were in the wrong. As of yet, Neena hadn't done anything wrong. Of course, given her clumsiness, the round chef doubted it would be long.

"You know where those go. Quit gawking and MOVE IT!!"

Neena nodded hastily and scooted over to the appropriate corner of the kitchen, away from the main prep area. Shelving lined a small area, containing aprons, dishcloths, hairnets, packages of gloves, and various other kitchen 'apparel', along with a hamper for the washables. Also, a floor length mirror covered the wall, which Betsy used to inspect all of her 'volunteers' when they reported for duty. Neena had found it to be very handy in keeping an eye on her loud-mouthed host as she worked. Though, usually when Neena arrived in the kitchen, Betsy became preoccupied with someone else.

"You tell her Beebee." Ethan, Neena's guard escort, leaned against the doorframe, smiling. He wiggled his eyebrows. A prim, and very out-of-place, girlish smile appeared on Betsy's round face. She preened visibly and forgot to keep glaring at Neena's retreating back.

"Well, someone has to keep these rejects in line. They respect you more when they know you don't take crap from anyone."

<"Keep tellin' yourself that, Bellow Breath.">[/i] Neena rolled her eyes covertly.

As she passed a young boy with blue hair and sharp nails, he cleared his throat. "Special delivery."

Neena glanced sideways, and saw a small piece of yellow lemon peel sitting by his station, and a cherry pit, still a bit red in color. She looked away quickly. "Mmhm."

The boy shoved the little bits, as well as some other food trash, into the trashbin in a smooth move.

Neena set her bundle on the shelves, distributing them accordingly. Next she unstrapped her basket, set it down, and began unloading the dirty stuff into it. She was very careful, as Dino had indicated caution with the yellow peel. That, combined with the red, meant something dangerous was in there. She felt several small bottles; various spices, no doubt.

Then she hit something considerably larger, and round. Neena looked into the mirror. Betsy and Ethan were completely distracted with each other. Carefully she pulled the cloth aside.

A canister of the sedative. And it was nearly full.

Neena fought hard not to start laughing. She could barely keep from smiling. Quickly she covered the treasure, and finished her chore. Several minutes later she and Ethan were out the door, and headed back to the Laundry Pool, with Neena having only recieved a backhand across the face for nearly spilling a bowl of applesause as she passed.

<"Now, what to do? What to do?"> Her nearly-colorless eyes sparkled as she considered the possibilities. [/color]

(OOC: This is happening separately, and is open to whoever wants to join)

In the cafeteria, Amp was on her hands and knees, scrubbing at the wooden floor, near the soundproof glass that separated the two sides of the Mess Hall. Her now-shoulder-length hair fell forward to hide her worn face. If she hadn't been moving back and forth, her small frame would have blended into the scenery.

On the outside, she appeared worn out, her red hair as dull and drab as the shapeless grey dress she wore. But her eyes had regained a bit of their former glow. Her bracelet buzzed, threatening to shock. The noise sounded unusually loud, as if there were two cuffs on her wrists.

The buzzed continued steady as her cleaning motions moved across the wooden floor.