Alabaster Penitentiary is on full lockdown. Most of everyone’s stuff has been confiscated. The guards’ leashes have been shortened immensely. Nothing is coming in or out of this place. Which means the guards aren’t coming either. I know… Yuck. But it’s true. From what I’ve heard, the parties they used to have in the mansion, the lavish bouts of techno and hedonism, with booze flowing from ice sculptures and people dressed like pixies blowing sparkly coke in your face—at least, that’s how I always pictured it—have been shut the fuck down. The wells of drugs and sex have all but dried up,
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