A Second Generation Whateley Academy Adventure
Jailhouse Lock
by
MaLAguA
Part Two
Friday, January 28th - 4:08pm
Kythe Residence
Raffina Booker took a deep breath as soon as she got herself and her bag out of the cab. She saw the house of her magic mentor, Caroline Kythe, also known as Lifeward, just a small front lawn away from her. A former hero, now an agent of the Syndicate. Her handler for the upcoming mission.
The mission. Her mission. Her first official outing for the organization. Butterflies of excitement flitted in her stomach as she contemplated a great performance that would put her name on the fast track to recognition. This was a moment she’d thought about since she’d first felt the power of her new form all those years ago. It was going to be a fun time.
She wheeled her bag over to the entrance and rang the doorbell.
And, as heralded by the sound on the other side, the door opened soon after.
“Hey Caroline,” Raffina said out of habit.
“Hello, Raffina,” Caroline half-whispered, the reason being the phone against her ear from which the girl could hear a boy’s voice rambling about something. “Please make yourself comfortable,” was all the woman said before moving over to the side to carry on with her conversation. “Okay, Dereck… I think I get the picture…”
Dereck, Raffina thought. That was Caroline’s son. Her curiosity piqued, she quietly moved into the house, pulling her small case up to the side of the couch and taking a seat there. All the while, she paid attention to this side of the conversation as Caroline paced around. Ever the mom, she was tidying up some of Sophie’s toys off the coffee table as well.
“Well, she told you she could handle it. If she said she could do it on her own then why step in?” Caroline was saying. After a small pause, she shook her head. “That’s not a good enough reason, honey. I know you meant the best… but you have to trust her.”
“So Dereck is the nosey kind, huh?” Raffina thought. She pulled out her phone to check her messages, but she remained attentive. She was curious to see where this was going.
“I know. You told me she didn’t tell you much… but she doesn’t have to tell you everything, right?”
“Ooh, is that projecting?” Raffina thought in amusement.
“Well… do you really want to get back with her?” Caroline carried on. “Just give her time. Let her be your friend before you win back your spot. Contrary to what your father might’ve told you, buying her a present every time there is a problem won’t automatically fix it.”
“Did he call just to get advice on what to buy?” Raffina was almost tempted to pry for details, while also pondering whether it would work on her.p>
Caroline gave her a hand gesture that could be interpreted as ‘be right back’ before making her way to the kitchen. “That being said, there is something you can do to get back in her good graces…”
Raffina couldn’t help but snicker as she was left alone in the living room. She enjoyed seeing her mentor, the usually stoic and professional Lifeward, being a house mom.
In the moment of silence, she took the time to check her phone for some of the messages she sent to her friends, wishing them a good time at the movies. It didn’t seem as though they had read them. ‘Maybe they’re on their way,’ she thought as her focus was drawn down the hallway around the corner.
Sophie Kythe, Caroline’s daughter, emerged with hasty steps. The girl was still dressed in her school uniform–though, given that it was the start of the weekend, she didn’t seem to care that the shirt was untucked, the skirt was wrinklier than a granny’s grin, or that half the buttons were popped. “Mom? Who was on the phone?” she called out as she entered the room, only to freeze as she spotted Raffina on the couch.
“Hey, pipsqueak.”
“Raffi!” Sophie squeaked happily. “Right! Mom said you were coming.”
“What? Forgot about that? About me?” Raffina teased, playing herself as the important one. “How dare you?!”
“Hehe. Sorry, school was really exhausting,” Sophie said
“Tell me about it. Highschool is even more of a nightmare.” Raffina snickered. “But are you having fun with it?”
Sophie nodded. “I’m having fun with my friends.”
“Lovely,” Raffina said.
“Yeah! I’m going to a friend’s house for a sleepover.”
“Really? That sounds fun!” Raffina played along.
“Yeah… just wish that I could have more fun with Mom. Like we planned.”
“Eh…” Raffina couldn’t say much about that. The fact that Caroline had managed to keep her activities hidden from Sophie thus far was outstanding.
“I told you, Sophie,” Caroline said as she emerged from the kitchen, now done with her call. “They needed help with a big project and someone decided to give me the job.”
“Is it that Larry guy’s fault?” Sophie asked.
“Yeah, it’s Larry’s fault.”
“I don’t like Larry.”
“Me too, sweetie.” Caroline sighed as she knelt to meet her daughter’s eyes. “But don’t worry. After this, I’ll be taking the next weekend off to be with you.”
“You mean it?”
“I do,” she said, giving Sophie a kiss on the forehead. “In the meantime, you have to promise to behave with Parker, alright?”
Sophie nodded. “I promise.”
“And be done with your homework before I get back, okay?”
“Okay…” the girl added sourly before moving back to the hallway, presumably to fetch something.
“They really like overworking you, don’t they?”
“This is the exception rather than the norm. A very inopportune exception,” Caroline said. “Normally, my days revolve around data management and analysis, some minor odd jobs and the usual quick trip out of town in the company’s super car.” With the ‘super car’ in question being the Syndicate’s portal system that made traveling around a breeze. “Hopefully, this’ll be just the last job they’ll ask of me in a while. I’m owed some time with my daughter… I just hoard it.”
“I would’ve used them right away,” Raffina mused. “By the way… when can I get my own ‘super car’?”
“Special benefits.”
“Am I on my way to getting them?”
Caroline sighed. “I suppose this is about the first step… out of one or two hundred.”
Raffina smirked, dismissing the last part as a job. There were so many places she hoped to visit once she gained access to the portal service.
Caroline might as well have read her mind. “The service isn’t your personal taxi, Raffina.”
“I… I’m responsible,” Raffina objected. “I mean… I can be. So far I haven’t been caught in my escapades. In fact, my next heis-”
“Be mindful that my daughter is around,” Caroline warned, glancing down the corridor.
“Right… Sorry.” Raffina apologized. She could hear Sophie’s footsteps up on the second floor. “When are we leaving?”
“In a moment, I hope. We’re waiting for a couple things” Caroline looked down at the luggage bag. “You brought everything?”
“As you told me to, I packed light enough for a night out, plus my equipment,” Raffina noted.
“Good.” Caroline said, glancing down at the corridor again, this time spotting Sophie as she appeared to be approaching their way. “I’ll tell you more once we’re in the car.”
“Alright…” Raffina said. “So, if it’s okay to pry, what was the call about?”
“Just my son asking for advice.” Caroline sighed as she took a spot on the couch by the coffee table.
“Sounded serious.”
“Is Dereck okay?” Sophie asked as she returned, leaning on the side of the couch, close to Raffina. “You should meet my brother next time he visits.”
“Heh… maybe so,” Raffina said, though that was the polite answer. In reality, for some reason, she felt quite uneasy at the prospect, after hearing snippets of the conversation and remembering that Caroline’s ex was the one that raised him.
“You’re brother is fine, Sophie,” Caroline interjected. “He’s just having some troubles with his girlfriend. First call of the year and it’s to ask for a way to mend the situation. I mean, not that I blame him; Whateley can really draw a lot of your attention. And it’s always nice to hear from him.”
“But he could at least give me a call, right?” Sophie pouted. “Even Vic answers my messages.”
“Hm…” was all Raffina said. Truth be told, it’d been a while since the thought of Whateley Academy drifted around in the back of her head. The place sounded quite interesting to an outsider: A school where mutants would be protected and develop their powers along with others where whacky things could and would happen. And yet, the place was incredibly expensive, letting only those with money and the truly desperate in.
Raffina, of course, had no need of the place on most accounts. She was safe and protected by her family and the Syndicate. She’d also held her powers for over five years now and had access to personal trainers to cover the educational aspect. The only reason why she would consider attending by this point would just be to see how things got around in a place where everyone knew what she was capable of.
The thoughts were interrupted by a ringing of the doorbell.
When Caroline opened the door, it revealed a young man that could be assumed as a college freshman judging by the simple T-shirt and jacket he’d donned for the occasion. With a slim frame and a set of glasses adorning his face, almost Clark Kent-ing the look, one wouldn’t assume that this guy was just a Syndicate henchman.
“Misses,” he greeted them all, giving both Caroline and Raffina a half nod.
“Hi, Parker,” Sophie replied as the man was invited in. He was carrying a rather hefty pair of bags under his shoulders.
“Sorry to be so late. These are the pieces you asked for.”
“It’s fine. You’re not that late,” Caroline reassured as she helped him with the load. In doing so, Raffina could pick up some jangling coming within. No doubt this was the gear for the mission. “If anything, thanks for answering to such a quick request.”
“I just happened to be free,” Parker said.
“Still, glad you could make it,” Caroline said, leaving the luggage aside. “Sophie has a sleepover at a friend’s house at half past five, I suggest you leave in half an hour and pick her up the next day at around three or four. Then, please look after her until I get back.”
Sophie pouted. “Hmph.” “Really sorry, Sophie. I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Caroline simply said as her daughter moved over to hug her. “Try not to give Parker too many problems.”
“I’ll try,” Sophie said.
“Good. I’ll call to see how you’re doing.”
“Okay…” Sophie pouted some more, though it didn’t last long once her mom got a hand in to tickle the giggles out of her.
“Now, is that what you’re going to be wearing?” Caroline teased, pointing at the girl’s lax and wrinkled shirt and skirt she’d napped in.
“I’ll go get changed,” Sophie squeaked as she ran into the hallway.
“Alright,” Caroline said as she looked at her henchman babysitter. “Parker, if anything happens you know what to do, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll call you. But I can guarantee that nothing will happen.”
Caroline was able to give the hint of a pleased smile. “Thank you.”
Parker nodded and, without saying a thing, followed her silent gesture to go back and keep an eye on the girl.
“You trust him well enough, don’t you?” Raffina said, approaching the bags with the temptation to peek what was inside, even if Caroline wouldn’t allow her.
“He’s a good kid that just does the job to make a living. One of the few people in the organization I would ever allow near Sophie,” Caroline said as she prodded the side of the bag, finding a hidden pocket from which she pulled the manifesto of the cargo.
“So… What’s in the bag?”
“Tech for the operations center and pieces of gear.”
“Some of that is for me?”
“Of course,” Caroline said and, with a conspicuous look into the hallway, she pried the bag open for a skimming check. Raffina would’ve also wanted to take a peek, but, it was just then that the doorbell rang again.
“Raffina, could you open that for me?” Caroline said, busy closing the bag and sliding the manifesto back into the hidden pocket. “That should be the last person we’re expecting.”
“Who could it be?” Raffina wondered out loud as she did, only to be met by a boy about her age. Thin, with a round pair of glasses and black hair, he had a rather bookish appearance that kinda resonated with Parker’s, spelling out ‘I’m hiding something’. It was indeed the last person she would expect.
“Ah, Roger,” Raffina greeted. “Well, hello.”
“R-Raffina. Heya,” Roger answered, clearly not expecting to see her there. He leaned to the side to look past her shoulder. “Greetings, Mrs. Kythe.”
“Afternoon, Roger,” Caroline said as she picked up the black bags and put them on the corner, behind Raffina’s own luggage. “Hope the trip wasn’t much of a bother.”
“It wasn’t really an issue,” Roger said as he unslung the carrier bag held across his body. “I was… I was actually looking forward to making the delivery. Some of these are actually the first enchanted pieces I’ve made.”
“Oh, someone’s first piece?” Raffina mused, closing the door. “Is it safe?”
“I’ll have you know I was supervised by several members of the house, including the master,” Roger replied indignantly.
“Roger has been studying under Barrick. And that man is stubbornly dedicated to making sure that every one of his enchanters is overly capable before assigning them their first job,” Caroline explained. “Show us what you have for us.”
With a nod, the young man set the bag on the table, pulling from it a couple of simple boxes. The main one, slightly larger, was opened, revealing a round orb about the size of a plum made of polished marble that glowed with some magic upon contact nestled between soft fabrics. Another case held three pairs of items. One was a simple curved chip about the size of two fingers pressed together, and the other was a small curled up piece. All of them were made of the same material as the orb.
“What is this, scrap?”
“Then it’s perfect,” Caroline said as she picked the orb, watching how the enchanted lines appeared around when she began to push in some of her essence. “And have you tested them?”
“Each and every single one of them.” Roger nodded as he offered Raffina one of the curled pieces. “Put this on your ear.”
Raffina looked at the thing with hesitation but humored the instruction and placed the bit up on her ear. It stuck to her skin, as though by, obviously, magic. “Alright, now what?”
<Can you hear me?> came a ghostly whisper that somehow reached her ear. It was Lifeward’s voice who had hands covering her mouth and the orb.
Raffina gasped. “I hear you. So these are comms?”
“Correct,” <Correct> Caroline said as she put the orb away. Now that it wasn’t covered, Raffina heard everything with an echo.
“Why can’t we use the tech?” Raffina asked as she pulled the clipped piece off her ear.
“For one, this will avoid any crossing of the wires. Places like where we’re going would have various ways of intercepting electronic conversations. However, specialized and bespoke magical devices require a bit more effort,” Caroline said. “The fact that they look like pieces of broken marble just means that they will be untraceable the moment their magic wears off.”
“Okay, then. Master communicator.” She pointed at the large orb as the case was closed. “Earpieces,” she said, placing the curled bit down next with the set. “And that’s the ‘microphone’?” She finished pointing to the larger slates.
Caroline nodded as she pushed herself up. “Thank you, Roger. These’ll work wonderfully.”
“Thank you for your patronage, Madam Kythe,” Roger said with a polite bow.
“The pleasure is always mine, Roger. Give Barry my regards,” Caroline said as she pushed herself up. She looked to Raffina. “I think that’s about everything we needed before we head off. I’ll go around the house and make some final preparations and then we’ll load the car.”
“If it’s okay, Madam Kythe, I’ll excuse myself,” Roger said politely.
“I’ll see him out,” Raffina offered.
“Thank you, both of you,” And with that, she was the one who moved back into the hallway. What was she up to? Raffina guessed it was to gather her luggage and make sure Sophie wouldn’t accidentally run into the hidden compartments she heard the house had.
“So, you’re working with Madam Kythe now?” Roger asked.
“First job, yeah.”
“Best of luck. Don’t get yourself captured.”
“Please…” Raffina scoffed as she opened the door.
“How’re the regulators doing?” Roger asked.
“They’re doing fairly well.” Raffina pulled back her sleeve and, with the twist of her wrist, the enchanted lines made themselves present on her skin.
“That’s good to hear.”
“Tell your master I’m happy with his work,” Raffina said, pulling the sleeve down. “But if he has any more upgrades in mind, I’m game.”
“Will do,” Roger confirmed as he stepped out.
About half an hour later, after bidding farewell to Sophie and Parker, Caroline and Raffina got their things into the car’s trunk and set off. Their destination was a semi-empty building that had been set up as the Syndicate’s way station to their next destination. However, today being Friday put a bit of a damper on their trek as, upon turning around the corner, they found themselves caught in traffic.
Caroline sighed. “Of course… Luckily we’re not losing much time.” She spoke in a more approachable tone.
“Yeah,” Raffina agreed. “So… is it just the two of us?”
“No, we’re just the last to arrive. The other two members of the team are already on site.”
“So, who else is in this?” Raffina mused. “Is one of them Cole?”
“Yeah. I actually sent Cole ahead of time to do the prep work.” Caroline nodded. “Last communication I got was that he was already in the place.”
“Cool. And the other one?”
“His name is Thomas. He’s another member of House Cosgrove’s east coast branch. Hired his services to weaken the wards placed around the prison’s perimeter. But just that. About a couple of hours ago, he told me that his work was done.”
“So it’s just me and Cole?” When Caroline nodded, Raffina continued. “Sounds like the odds are stacked against us.” Confidence oozed from her words.
“Just be mindful that this isn’t a game, Raffina. If trouble starts within the prison, then the whole place will go up in arms and there’ll be little I can do to help you. Remain hidden, and stay unnoticed for as long as possible.”
“It’s never been a problem to me,” she said. “I believe I can handle it.”
“You’re a troublemaker in the making,” Caroline sighed. “Are you thinking about following your father’s footsteps? Or striking out on your own as a burglar?”
“Thief sounds so low class. I prefer to go with ‘Urban Archeologist’.” Raffina snickered.
“I guess there are worse things. I was going to suggest that you could be an extraction expert or a procurement specialist even if you applied yourself. Granted, an independent burglar with the protective backing of the organization seems to be the popular choice. Private investigator…” Caroline trailed off before shaking her head. “Look at me talking with a kid about what sort of high risk morally dubious jobs they have as career options. Honestly, I would be far happier if you just decided to go to college.”
Raffina giggled. “None of those options sound bad… maybe…” she trailed off just so she wouldn’t say which she liked the least.
“It would be a good talk for another time. We should start to focus.” Caroline shook her head as the traffic began to flow, and so did they. “How are you feeling? And be honest.”
“I’m excited. My legs are itching to go in.” She paused with a bit of insight. “I’m feeling a bit jittery too. This feels big, important even.”
“Good… Anything else?”
“Maybe… maybe a little scared? Kinda worried about what might happen if I fail… but that’s just a tiny bit,” she said, holding out her index and thumb together. “This much.”
“That’s natural.”
“I’m also happy I get to work with Cole and you,” she quickly added to move past that point.
“It’ll all go perfectly, Raffina,” Caroline said. “Did you read the mission briefing I provided?”
She nodded. “We’re going to the Stonewall. A prison in west Georgia designed to hold both baseline and empowered criminals. Somewhat recent, just finished construction three years ago. There are no known incidences of breakout or successful extractions from it as yet.”
“Correct, we’ll be the first ones to do it,” Caroline stated. “How about the files on the targets?”
“Yes. It’s the old man, Techno Revenant, the rather unoriginal ‘Stones’ and this Fulminant guy… which made me wonder. His file had a couple of redactions, right? Is it special syndicate information?” she teased.
“Confidential reasons,” Caroline explained before moving on. “Some parts of the operation will be handled on a need-to-know basis. Do you think you can accept that?”
“Hm… I guess so.”
“No need to worry, I’ll be the voice in your ear monitoring everything.”
“You get to sit back?”
“It’s a male prison, Raffina. And most of the personnel are men. This is an infiltration job I can’t do so easily, but you can.”
“Leaving it up to me, then” Raffina shook her head. “So I have to play rat in the ship?”
“I’m afraid so… You’ll be doing the deep infiltration starting tomorrow.”
“And what about tonight?” Raffina asked.
“Tonight you’ll be enjoying the modern amenities of a hotel as we get things set up.” Caroline said. “Just enjoy the prep time.”
“Alright,” Raffina agreed.
Saturday, January 29th - 10:13am
The Stonewall, Courtyard 1
“Another day, another time to hope…” Nico muttered to himself as he parted ways from the crowd of inmates and strayed over to the side of the courtyard to claim the seat he’d been accustomed to taking in the one hundred fifty-nine days he’d been in this place. The day’s plan was as usual: Sit down, spend the day in boring contemplation and keep his head down so as to avoid trouble. Do that until the end of the day, meals notwithstanding, go to bed and repeat…
What a nightmare. It was the same thing every day and, as much as he tried to dress it down and pass it off as the usual, it was always the same: They were roused by guards blaring the wake-up alarm, calling them to line up for headcount. Sometimes a guy received a random punishment based on the warden’s mood, and since the Man in Charge appeared to be going through a really bad streak after cheating on his wife, it was mostly expected by now. And the Man never passed up the chance to belittle and remind them how they were a scourge to the world. Food was miserable–that is, if you got any at all–and the showers were just cold and dirty. Word was that the system was pulling water from a nearby swamp and, judging by the taste, Nico figured that part was true. And then, right on cue every evening, it was lights out for the world, whether one liked it or not. Even the radiator apparently powered down, which was just cruel in this cold weather.
And above all, Nico hated that he was getting used to the routine. To the large yet horrible place, to the drab sights, even to the unfair mistreatments and the dangers about. It was a matter that if you could survive one day, you could survive forever… but then, who would want to survive in this place forever?
So far he’d had it easy. He’d made it this long going unnoticed and avoiding trouble. He even had a room all by himself for the time being since his cellmate couldn’t keep his sanity in check. It would only be a matter of time before that spot got filled.
He nestled his head between his hands. ‘I have to get out! I have to get out!’ He always told himself that, but trying to escape a prison only worked in the movies. This place was designed to hold in people with powers–whether strength or speed or genius, or even literally death rays out the ass– and the guards were ready to answer with extreme prejudice at any sign of trouble. What chance would a normal man have? He may have himself taken care of, but this was a place of thugs.
“What do we have here?” A snide voice announced itself by his side. It was followed by the sound of multiple footsteps shuffling the dirt. Nico went stiff as a hand fell upon his shoulder. “If it isn’t our buddy Nico.”
“Oh, it’s you, Rodrigo,” Nico said dryly. He composed himself as naturally as he could before glancing to the side. What he saw was a thin man of heavily tan complexion, wrinkled from the sun, and capped by unkempt hair and beard. Not exactly the most threatening thug, considering he stood about half a head shorter than Nico… but the problem was the entourage that followed him. A perk of being a member of one of the larger gangs within the compound, the Coyotes, was that the guy had a group of grunts and henchmen to stand behind him.
“¿Qué pasa, compadre? ¿Estás teniendo un colapso mental?” (What’s up, brother? You having a mental break?), Rodrigo said, putting the other hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Espero que no. Ya sabes lo mucho que se encabronan los guardias cuando eso pasa.” (Hope not. You know how much it pisses of the guards when THAT happens).
“No… Solo tuve una mala noche.” (No, I just had a bad night,) Nico replied back in Spanish. That, right there, was the exact same reason why the Coyotes took interest in him. Just because of his heritage, he’d garnered some attention from the group. And it was attention that was completely unreciprocated. While, on one hand, having the group’s mark would’ve given him some level of protection, the downsides were too many to count. Not only would he be more of a target for every other group in the Stonewall, including the guards themselves, but that would also mean being at the beck and call of the group’s leader. He was just supposed to be here for a short time… what good would it do to him to be associated with the group once he got out? Being an immigrant in the United States was already playing the game in hard mode.
“(You complain a lot for someone who has a room of his own,)” Rodrigo said. “(Have you given some thought to the offer?)”
“(All I do is think of things. Look here? What am I supposed to do? Just step out and see if I can work out while the gangs aren’t monopolizing the spot? Go into the rec room with the block TV taken out of the 90s? I could just lay down on the side along with the people that get beat up by the Swastika Shaveheads or the guys from the Black Fists. Which is where I will end if I agree to your offer,)” Nico said.
“(Always a chatterbox. What a dumb way of screwing the rest of your stay in prison…)”
“(The rest of my stay?)” Nico said, backing away just to get Rodrigo to stop squeezing his shoulders. “(I’m not going to stay here for long… and no, I’m not planning to escape.)”
“(What? You think you’re getting out of here?!)” Rodrigo laughed, prompting the men behind him to laugh as well.
“(Why wouldn’t I? I haven’t caused any trouble?)” Nico snapped.
“(You think that matters?)” Rodrigo moved in close again to place his hand on Nico’s shoulder and repeat the sale’s pitch. Close up, Nico felt the stench of the man’s breath. It was a reminder that these guys had their own means of smuggling goods, like alcohol… at least he hoped that was the case, and not that the guy was gargling toilet moonshine. “(Look here, Nico. What I’m trying to say is that, whether you like it or not, as long as you’re here, you’re just like any one of us. A criminal who shouldn’t be allowed back into society. It doesn’t matter if you’re a serial killer or just an illegal immigrant. To the guards, you’re no different from Ronaldo, Esteban…)” Rodrigo snorted, pointing at some of the men behind. “(… or me.)”
“(Funny, but I think I would need to be a bit more shoe-like to be confused with you…)”
That got a couple of laughs from the guys behind them. Rodrigo chuckled as well… however his amusement was clearly fake as his grip tightened on Nico’s shoulder.
“Always a smart ass…” Rodrigo snorted before giving him a slight smack on the cheek. It was a love tap compared to how one of the men shoved Nico down to the ground right after.
“Pleh!” He spat some of the dirt out.
“We may have been kind because you speak our tongue, hermano,” Rodrigo said as he walked away, with his men in tow. “But you’re not one of us yet. Better wizen up before it’s too late. Because you have a very long and harsh time ahead.”
“Ugh… my big mouth always getting me in trouble…” Nico grumbled as he picked himself back up.
It was the things he couldn’t anticipate that had brought him concern throughout his stay in the Stonewall… the people inside. Just like the irascible warden, he also had to be on the lookout of the many gangs that ran the place. Today, in the first courtyard, three of them were in sight.
In one corner of the field, Rodrigo joined the larger retinue of the Coyotes, the latino gang that was known as the best smugglers. If you wanted something from the outside, they were the group with the least interceptions. Although that was a generous description considering the place’s security.
On the other side, there was the Aryan Brotherhood, occupying the workout and weight machines in their effort to become the next generation of Nazi supersoldiers. As the name implied, they only took in specific types of men and brandished the characteristic SS marking across their bodies. They had been gaining some traction as of late, welcoming a mutant into their ranks. Some guy by the name of Fulminant, who claimed to have plunged an entire city into darkness for three days. A scary thought. Even with the inhibitor collar around his neck, mutants had value in the prison, either in the hope that they might hold the key for an escape via unfortunate hardware malfunction… or for favors that could be repaid in the rather fantastic case anyone made it out.
And in the back area was the third gang of the courtyard. The Black Fist. As the name implied, this one took in people from the opposite pigmentation as the Brotherhood. Only men a couple shades darker than Nico were allowed to join, and they built themselves in preparation by monopolizing the game courts for either sports or, as they were doing today, training in hand to hand combat. Today’s contestant happened to be one of the recent prisoners, another mutant by the name of Stones, fighting a relatively lighter-skinned man who was surprisingly skilled in his movements, dodging and striking with fluid motion. He must’ve been one of the more recent arrivals. Regardless, it was one of the more interesting things to watch, were it not that getting too close would draw the ire of the other spectators.
“Prisoner 246-01,” called a guard from the sentry wall above.
“Yes?” Nico asked, brushing the dust off his clothes.
“You have a visitor. Move to the visitor center!”
‘Yes!’ Nico celebrated inwardly. ‘Please, let it be good news…’ He prayed that his lawyer would have some good news. “I’ll be right up.”
Saturday, January 29th - 10:49am
The Stonewall, Visitor’s center
The Visitor’s Center. That little place where the inmates had formal contact with the outside world, or at least with whatever little bit of that world still wanted to reach out to them. With the Stonewall being somewhat far from the city, as well as rumored to be in a marsh surrounded by alligators, visits were few and far in between. By the time Nico got there, it was just the guard standing by the corner.
Nico moved to the occupied stall and was met on the other side of the glass by a middle-aged man dressed in a tan suit. A handkerchief rubbed the sweat off his face as Nico took a seat. “Mr. Sandoval,” he began.
“Talk to me, Sam. Please, tell me there is good news!”
“I wish that were the case.” Sam clasped his hands together as though he was a school principal meeting with parents.
“Crap…” Nico thought.
“Last we talked, I told you I made an appeal for your case. But it’s been going slow. The judge doesn’t really seem interested in going through another hearing.”
“I keep telling you. I didn’t steal anything! I wasn’t even sentenced before they stuck me in here!”
“I know. I know.” Sam shook his head. “But as you’re here as an undocumented immigrant, the judge doesn’t see the point in hurrying things along. It’s gotten much harder to make things stick, you see.”
“What? I told you before, plenty of times. I’m here legally.”
“And yet you couldn’t produce your papers for the court.”
“I told you. Right after they arrested me, someone ransacked my apartment. It must’ve been one of the guys that were there when they got me into the police car.” Nico thought for a second. “The government should be able to easily confirm that, yes?”
“Yeah… T-that’s true,” Sam half stammered. “U-unfortunately, the database hasn’t been working after my appeals. Plus that’s just an aside. That’s what makes all this such a tragic thing. You’re accused of a crime that you claim you didn’t commit. You’re considered an illegal just by face value and, to make matters worse, you have no family to rely on.”
Nico shrugged. “Why does that last part matter?”
“Well… usually, when a loved one is in prison, the family tries to… help with the legal expenses.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have a family aro- Wait! Wait! What?!” Nico blurted out. “You mean to tell me I have no money left?!”
“Well, it can’t be helped. I’ve been doing my work here,” Sam said with a dismissive shrug that got Nico fired up.
“Wait! Wait. You charge 120 bucks an hour and have been coming here for an hour twice every month. How is it possible that I’ve already run out of money?” Nico blurted out.
“Mr Sandoval, please,” Sam chided. ”Do you think the legwork I do is not billable hours?”
“But I had more than 3,000 bucks saved in my account! H-how much time did you bill me for!?” Nico blurted out.
“It was the agreed price-”
“Bullshit!” Nico said, slamming his fist down. “I’ve always been careful with my money. Asking how much you would be billing and for what was among the first things I would ask.”
“You may be misremembering,” Sam said with false tenderness that Nico wasn’t willing to accept. “The fact of the matter is that you have no money left in your account to pay for my services.”
“Were you even trying?” Nico frowned.
“I beg you pardon?”
“Is that the best you could do? You’ve had over five months to work on my case and I’m no closer to getting out as I was on the first day.” Nico frowned. There was no way. No way. Here in the place where hours stretched for what felt like days, how could one not get anything done in five months! “Is this the effort all my savings get me!? “
Sam shook his head, sounding disappointed. “I have filed an appeal, but I haven’t been able to make any headway.”
“How have you been spending every hour that you’ve billed me for!?”
“I knew this was going to happen,” Sam said. By now, the false sympathy was getting frustrating. “I knew you wouldn’t come to appreciate the efforts I’ve put into this job. I knew it was impossible from the start but I still gave it my all.”
“You’re lying!”
“I certainly am not. But now this makes the dissolution of our contract much easier to stomach. I, unfortunately, cannot work pro bono for a case such as yours, especially if you’re willing to go as far as to imply that I’m taking advantage of you,” And with that, Sam pushed himself up. “Hopefully you’ll be able to find someone willing to work for you.”
“Oye! Imbécil! We’re not done here! Give me back my money!” Nico snapped.
“Are you accusing me of malpractice?” Sam scoffed. Nico caught a glimpse of a smirk on the corner of his lips as he turned around. “Best of luck in your future endeavors, Mr. Sandoval.”
“Hey! Get back here!” Nico said, slamming his fist against the glass as Sam was already on his way out.
“Hey!” barked the guard in the corner of the room, bearing a tag with the name ‘Rollins’ on his chest, patting his belt where the taser’s holster and the nightstick hung. “Are you going to be a problem?”
“The man stole my money–”
“Are YOU going to be a problem?” Guard Rollins repeated.
“… No, sir,” Nico mumbled.
“Good,” the guard said. He leaned to the side to see if there was anyone else on the other side of the glass window before pointing towards the exit. “If you’re done, leave the visitor’s center.”
“Yes, yes, sir,” Nico said, though not before adding. “Pinche guardia cabrón…”
About a minute later, Nico got thrown out of the room, now sporting a bruise on his cheek and a couple down along his ribs. “I also speak some Spanish, idiot-a,” the guard said with a self pleased smirk, patting the nightstick. “Now get out of here before you annoy me more.”
“Yes… sir,” Nico grumbled as he forced himself back up on his feet and steered himself back towards the prison buildings.
Saturday, January 29th - 1:48pm
The Stonewall, on the way to the cafeteria. Building A
The meeting with his lawyer haunted Nico for the next couple of hours and would likely keep at it for the rest of the day… for the rest of the week, month, forever and ever. The bitter feeling of that one last hope coming around the way and shanking you in the place you wanted the least. All his money! Gone! Just like that. Because of that scumbag lawyer.
“The best defense in Georgia, my ass.”
Nico spent a good time afterward trying to convince himself that it didn’t happen, that he just didn’t get scammed. That this was nothing more than a bad dream and that he would wake up back in his cell or, even better, back at home. That the past months hadn’t been a thing. But then, every time his foot touched the ground and felt the solid concrete, he realized it wasn’t the case.
He wasn’t exactly a man of violence, but he wanted to drive his fist into that greasy scumbag’s face over and over until he felt satisfied.
His mind sifted through the options, trying to think about what he could do now before spiraling backwards into the things he should have done. Maybe if he’d realized things a month earlier, when he still had money, he could’ve sued Sam with what little he had left. Maybe that would’ve gotten him some extra money with which he could’ve dealt with his current predicament.
His current predicament… What was he going to do now? He had no lifeline outside of the prison and no money to support it. What other option did he have? Just wait out the clock and then be released into society as someone with no money and a criminal record?
‘No no no! I can’t accept it! I can’t just live with it!’ he tried to tell himself… but in the end, there was only one question left: what could he do?
By lunch time, Nico made his way to the cafeteria in a mental shamble as he clung on to what little energy or motivation he had left. Now he felt he could understand his cellmate’s final days.
“Fuck…” he grumbled. And yet, as he saw the other inmates slowly trickle down into the procession for food, he had to force himself to regain some of the energy, even if he didn’t want to. The men here preyed on weakness; Rodrigo was such a person.
The cafeteria was a simple, unflattering concrete block that spread itself wide and tall. Under the purview of the inmates, tables that were once properly lined in formation were now a crooked and chaotic mess with much of the dirt and muck from fallen pieces of food getting brushed off to the edges of the space. If it weren’t for all people present, the place would look like it’d been left derelict for months. Up above, at a three-story height, the guards paced back and forth along the railing, watching with indifferent boredom to make sure the inmates didn’t try anything.
It was the late end of the lunch rush, so the prisoner population in place was less dense than half an hour ago. Unfortunately, that also meant that the choice of food was reduced to just the leftovers. Not that Nico cared at this point in time. A tray of mashed potatoes, stale meat and slices of acidic fruit was just sustenance now. The sustenance for the rest of his life.
“Hey, watch it!” one of the guys snapped as Nico bumped his elbow. He would’ve gotten up for a fight hadn’t he been in the middle of his lunch.
Nico apologized quickly, putting some distance between them. “Get a hold of yourself…” he told himself. “I can’t… I can’t go on like this. Just make it through the day, leave the sorrows for the night…” He looked up from his tray and noticed someone.
An older man was also slowly making his way to a table with slow shuffling steps so as to make sure that the tray in his hands was still stable. “Seth… are you okay?” Nico asked.
“Ah… Nico,” the older man said. “I’m okay, just pacing myself.”
“Let me help you.” Nico picked up the tray and then offered his shoulder for Seth to lean on.
“Thank you…” said the old man.
“No problem… if anything it lets me forget my own troubles,” Nico mumbled that last part for himself. “Is your leg causing you trouble?”
“I had a bad fall earlier.” Seth said, looking up at Nico. “Did you have a bad fall too?”
“Huh? Oh,” he said, realizing that Seth was looking at the bruise on his cheek left by the guard’s nightstick. “Yeah. I had one.”
Placing the trays on a lone table, Nick helped Seth sit down. “That leg of yours… you said you got shot there, right?”
“I was,” Seth said dryly, then took a breath of relief as he sat down.
“Do you think it’ll get better?”
“I don’t think so, not without proper care and… Well, the guards here aren’t known to be the most attentive of nurses.” Seth chuckled at his slight joke.
“I feel you.” Nico stirred the mashed potatoes with his plastic spork. In this place, injuries didn’t get better; they just piled on. He wished that it wasn’t the case, because Seth was one of the few people around that he felt safe talking to. Despite having been here for about a month, the old man was one of the friendlier people around. “Still, do hope you can get better.”
“Idle wishes mean nothing, and you know that,” Seth dismissed.
“I know. Wishes, huh?” Nico shook his head. “I don’t think you ever said what you’re in here for.”
“Just kidnapping and extortion,” Seth said as he took a bite of his food. “Robbed some rich trash of all of their life’s worth.” There was some bile in those words that the man rarely demonstrated.
“Hope the guy had a very bad time.” Nico just wished the same thing would happen to his lawyer.
“Oh, he did have a bad time,” Seth said. “The worst time.”
“Well, that’s something worth celebrating,” Nico said, thinking for a moment before leaning his tray just to pass over some of the fruit.
“You don’t want it?” Seth asked.
“I… I’m not in the mood,” Nico admitted.
“Hm…” Seth said as he accepted the fruit, eating a sporkful of one before asking. “Did something happen?”
“Is it that obvious?” Nico said as he took a bite of the meat before sighing. “Well… it’s mostly frustrating but I just found out that my lawyer–”
“Vaya, vaya, vaya…” came a voice from the side as what was once an empty hallway became obfuscated by a wall of orange jumpsuits with the head of the group standing by the side of the table. “What do we have here?”
“Rodrigo… what do you want now?” Nico asked.
“I’m not here for you,” Rodrigo snorted, “Although a mutual acquaintance told me what happened in the visitor’s center. I told you and yet you mocked me. Now that you’re in here for the long run with us, maybe you’ll learn to listen.”
Nico snorted. “To the old leather shoe? I’ll pass.”
“Este bruto sigue queriendo burlarse de mi!” (This moron keeps on wanting to mock me!) Rodrigo laughed back at his men, prompting them to play along. His voice was the same as earlier that day, but he held himself back from action. “You’re lucky that I have more pressing matters… but that doesn’t mean you won’t pay for this later.”
Rodrigo paused for a moment, taking stock of the situation. He glanced up at the guards up in the walkways far over their heads, seemingly bored out of their minds over watch duty, only now they were looking conspicuously down on their phones or out the windows that overlooked the courtyards. One rare exception that gave him a discrete thumbs up before also looking the other way. In the corner of the room, just a few tables away, a couple of people from the Black Fist were sitting. Just two junior members. Not enough to rouse concern. The main concern, however, was the members of the Aryan Brotherhood occupying the table just half a step away, among them the bound supervillain, Fulminant. They weren’t close enough to pose a risk or rouse concern… but enough to get them looking over, wondering what the Coyotes were doing so close by.
“Could we… Could we go elsewhere? Fast?” Rodrigo struggled to make the request.
“What for?” Nico asked.
“Cállate,” (Shut up.) Rodrigo hissed.
“Unfortunately, I have trouble moving today. My leg, you know,” Seth said, with an implication in his tone.
“Sorry, abuelo… but we haven’t restocked on painkillers,” Rodrigo said, pausing a moment before grunting. “Fine. Do you have what we asked for?”
“I have it with me,” said the old man, groaning as he reached down for something rolled within the pants leg.
“You know? We really had to work a lot to get you those materials,” Rodrigo whispered, as if that would get him to work faster.
“I practically did this for free. Leaving me alone costs you nothing,” Seth said
‘So he’s building stuff for them? In exchange for protection, I imagine,’ Nico reasoned.
“Cost us nothing to leave you alone? We’re there standing between the other gangs and you, making sure that you get to live your remaining years peacefully here.”
“Don’t think the other gangs would be that offended. Maybe they would ask me for something of their own in exchange for something, rather than nothing,” Seth said as he produced an item. It looked like a hodgepodge of of scrap. Nico could see slips of aluminum, pieces of broken plastic taped together, a pair of batteries and two copper wires sticking out of the sides.
“Really? Are you seriously fronting me here?” Rodrigo said, with a shrug of the shoulders and a disingenuous laugh that Nico could recognize. “Then maybe we should be clear about the terms.” He grunted as he shoved Seth down.
“Hey!” Nico snapped and jumped to his feet.
“Stay out of this, Nicolas.” Rodrigo didn’t even look his way. He had one of the brutes by his side cross his arms as if daring him to try something. “This doesn’t involve you. Now you, viejo, you deal with us or else–” Rodrigo tried to continue, but by then they heard the screeching of the benches and the nearby table move.
“What do we have here?” one of the men from the Aryan Brotherhood asked.
Rodrigo closed his eyes, letting out a curse. “Hijo de la repu–” He cut himself off before turning around to give an answer. “None of your business. Now, scram.”
“Oh, is the illegal telling us to leave? That’s rich,” said another man. This one was buff enough to make two of the Coyote members reconsider and redouble their posture.
“Really? You're gonna, what, deport me from the prison?” Rodrigo mocked. “Fucking leave.”
“Hey, hey! What’s going on here?” asked another voice from the other side. The two young members of the Black Fist had decided not to leave themselves out of the potential conflict.
“What the fuck are you getting involved?” one of Rodrigo’s men shouted, earning himself a flurry of curses back.
“Come on, what are you rats talking about?” Fulminant said, stepping up to the center. Despite having his powers canceled by the inhibitor collar, there was still a sense of dread about his presence. Be it the psycho smirk on him or the cockiness about him, there was something that put people off their game, and the bastard knew it.
In the meantime, Seth was pushing himself away from the table, but moving his leg drew a pained hiss from those old lips. That was enough for one of Rodrigo’s henchmen to take it as a threat. Hissing, “Hey you! Get back down.” He shoved the older man down again.
Maybe it was the quantum of care Nico felt for Seth, or maybe it was the shitty news he just received, but he had no care for restraint. With all that pent-up anger, his body cashed in a check he wasn’t sure he would be able to pay, and so he snapped and shoved the thug as hard as he could. It was enough to force the brute to off-balance and head-first into the Aryan Brotherhood crowd. Right into Fulminant.
From there, the dominos set off one after another.
Fulminant retaliated, driving his fist at the man’s head to send him flying back into the tables.
“Hey! You attack our men! You attack us!” Rodrigo shouted, and with a word sent his men forth. Some of them managed to get their hands on members of the Brotherhood, but others were rebuffed and thrown over to the side, into the members of the Black Fist. In the confusion, swinging fists–even if not intended at them–were interpreted as an invitation to the fight.
Chaos broke out into an ever-expanding brawl. Even neutral prisoners got caught in the line of fire and retaliated out of anger, getting themselves absorbed into the fray. Punches and kicks were traded freely as men were grabbed and thrown left and right, tumbling and toppling the tables before getting back up for another try. Insults were thrown and whatever was around that could be used as a weapon was grabbed: sporks, trays and even benches. And as word began to spread, the more they could hear the call for reinforcements.
“You’re all pathetic!” Fulminant snapped, standing tall over the opponent he’d just thrown away. “Do you have any idea of who I am!? Do you want to die nex-” Only to be interrupted when someone threw a tray of mashed potatoes at his face. “You…”
“Yes, come on over you mutant freak!” Rodrigo snapped.
And, predictably, he did. Fulminant took a step forward, putting himself in the path of a tackle by two members of the Coyotes.
And all this time, the guards stood on the sidelines watching the spectacle unfold, pretending as though they needed an authorization from the warden to stop them. Even when some of the criminals began using the tables and benches as barrier breakers, they just leaned against the handrail expectantly.
“What the hell is going on!?” Stones’ voice came from the fringe, arriving just then at the spot with his earlier sparring partner in tow. “Stop it!” He tried to order the two younger members of the Black Fist to to heed him, but to the other two parties involved, there was no difference, and they too got dragged into the squabble.
“Seth! Seth! Are you okay?” Nico said as he managed to reach the downed man. He kept himself low to avoid any of the fighting prisoners.
“Don’t think I’ve been fine in the past 10 years,” Seth grunted as he was helped up on his feet. “Wait, my project,” he blurted out, pointing down at the constructed taser that, in between kicks and sweeps, had been sent down the central aisle. At that exact moment, the man who’d arrived with Stones stomped the thing, cracking it to pieces. All that was left were pieces which were promptly kicked and scattered out and away, right before one of the Coyote members tried to land a hit on him.
“Took me days to get the pieces to make it…” Seth lamented.
“It’s better this way,” Nico mumbled, pulling him out to the side.
The two skulked their way out of the conflict, weaving a path through the fight only to be greeted by the warden, flanked by two guards wearing riot gear and heavy duty shotguns. Upon cocking them, Seth ducked to the side against a table, with Nico following his lead.
“Enough!” Warden Smith bellowed.
Fortunately, none of the guards were interested in them. The shotgun was fired upwards, ringing as loud as a car crash and a dent was put on the concrete ceiling, raining chunks and dust over the heads of the prisoners. They all stepped away from one another, slowly raising their hands in response to the warning shot.
And just like that, quiet reigned in the place, with only the sound of concrete chunks still clattering about and boots of the warden and his officers as they approached the crowd.
“What is going on here? A brawl within my prison?” said the Man, his deep voice booming around. “It’s been a while and I recall telling you last time that I wouldn’t hesitate to break out the armory at the sound of another, didn’t I? You can beat yourselves senseless in the yard, but inner spaces are off limits.
“Now, who started this?!” he demanded. Nico felt a stone sink into his stomach, dreading the moment when someone would point a finger at him… but no one did. No one even gave him a glance. The only person who could tattle on him, the guy he’d shoved away, lay knocked out on the floor. It was by sheer luck that no one happened to see his hand in the matter. Instead, all eyes went onto Fulminant, the one everyone had seen throw the first overt punch, and the only person without his hands raised.
“What?”
“Sir,” said one of the guards up above. It was the same man Nico’d figured was in the Coyote’s pocket. ”I saw Fulminant throw the first punch.”
The warden shook his head, his hand slipping into his pocket as he walked forth, and all of the prisoners stepped back. “You’ve barely been here a week and you’re already starting fights?”
“They came at me. I just taught them a lesson,” Fulminant said with a confident smile, just prompting the warden to look at the dented bloodied tray on the floor and the unconscious man nearby. “It’s not worth talking about. Are we done here?”
“You threw the first punch and beat up Ronaldo!” Rodrigo snapped.
“He came after me, you cookarracha. Y’all better scurry over and wake your buddy up before…” That threat, however, didn’t last long. Words failed him, turning to desperate gags and gasps as both hands gripped for the collar around his neck and an upsetting redness filled his face.
“They told me was going to be a challenge…” said the Man in Charge, calm and conversationally, “...to control a mutant that fed off electricity with the conventional shock-administering collars. Fortunately enough for us, we had these contraptions prepared for the occasion.” He waved a small master control device as Fulminant struggled to breathe. The mutant had collapsed against the table and was prying at the reinforced collar with desperate fingers. “The inner lining inflates instead, applying pressure to the windpipe, slowly choking it off. Not that the electrical shock would do you any good with the power canceling effect… but why risk it, right? May this be a lesson on taking that tone with me.”
He released his finger from the trigger, letting Fulminant wheeze and gasp as his voice returned. The insult was at the tip of the mutant’s tongue before he saw the Man’s willingness to activate the choke collar again.
“Rogers,” he said to one of the guards. “When we’re done, take Fulminant to the hold down in level three of building B. He is due for a lesson on respect.”
“Yes, sir.” The one called Rogers pointed his shotgun at Fulminant and motioned for the mutant to step away. The half-choked inmate reluctantly complied.
The warden then ambled around, looking at the ceiling and then down to the cafeteria floor, where he found a chunk of concrete to kick. “As for the rest of you. Look at what you did to my place. I’ll have to close the chow hall for a week because of this…”
Many of those present wanted to groan, but they knew better than to voice their complaints to the warden… most of them at least. One of the younger members of the Black Fist let a groan escape his lips and immediately had the butt of a shotgun rammed into his stomach.
“Thank you, Davies,” the warden congratulated the guard, but his voice trailed off as he noticed something on the ground. Picking it up for everyone to see, he demanded, “What’s this?” It was a lone 9-volt cell, one that had been part of the item Seth was about to trade.
“A… a battery?” said one of the men from the Aryan Brotherhood.
“Correct… and what is it doing here?” Warden Smith said markedly, with an implied threat. The reason was obvious: no one was allowed to have it. By fortune, it appeared that the other bits of Seth’s invention were thoroughly destroyed and scattered as far as could be from the center.
The warden’s eyes scoured each of those present awaiting for an answer, hoping to coax them out. Unfortunately, outside of the brawl, this discovery was news to everyone… well, for the most part. Some of the Coyotes stole glances down at Seth, only for Rodrigo to discreetly shake his head. After all, they were the ones who’d given the old man the materials to work with.
“Hm…” The warden mumbled as he inspected the battery. His brow furrowed as if trying to make sense of the out-of-place common object between his fingers. The Man was probably wishing that it was something more clear-cut, like a shiv made from a sharpened toothbrush.
“Regardless,” he finally said after pocketing the battery. “Everyone else involved will spend the rest of the day in the courtyard, standing bent over until sunset and then be moved back to your rooms for early curfew. Understood?”
There was a disgruntled silence in the room.
“Understood?” The warden repeated, this time prompting the prisoners to mumble in agreement. “Good… Davies, lead them out.”
Saturday, January 29th - 6:06pm
The Stonewall. Building A - Cellblock 3
“Ugh… ow, my back,” one of the prisoners groaned, voicing the thoughts of every other inmate that was caught in the Warden’s punishment.
“That warden likes his punishments a bit too much.”
“And we get sent to our cells now…”
The official punishment was for everyone to stand in the courtyard in a very taxing stance until the sun had set. Many of them thought this would be a piece of cake–‘how difficult could it be?’–but soon they came to regret that naive thought as their legs, back, and arms began to struggle, and the pressure of their own weight against the stiffness began to hit them. Anyone who fell down was beaten and forced to get back up in a four-legged stance that announced they would be receiving reduced rations in the evening.
Fortunately, it being winter, they were granted the mercy of the sun setting earlier, before the storm in the distance could reach them. It would’ve been really really bad to catch a cold in this place, especially when the heating systems in the prison buildings were on ‘power saving’ mode during the night.
The punished procession marched on through the corridors, being escorted back to their cells for an early curfew as a general punishment.
“(Fuck me!)” Rodrigo cursed in Spanish as he and his now meager entourage moved their way up the stairs to the third level of the block, feeling the struggle of every step taken. “(Warden Smith is just a fucking sadist. If it were up to me… Oh I’d leave him begging to fall first to the ground. Fuck, my back is close to broken and-)”
“(I heard you were up and about poking the beehive.)” Another voice greeted him the moment they reached the third floor. This inmate had deeply tanned skin and a shaved head. His face bore a couple of scars across his cheek and one came dangerously close to the eye, enough to cut his eyebrow short. The power-dampening collar around his neck outed him as a mutant. Behind him stood more members of the same gang, bigger and meaner than the ones with Rodrigo.
“(Ah… Carlos.)” Rodrigo took a step behind, getting one of the men behind to nearly stumble against the flow of inmates. “(Um… you heard?)”
“(How not?”) Carlos said dryly, taking a step forward, and prompting the rest to back away. “(You thought it would be a good idea to get us into the Warden’s sights?)” he demanded, grabbing Rodrigo by the jumpsuit to push him against the metal before pulling him into the empty cell, with the men forming a barrier to keep eavesdroppers away. “(They say he found a battery among the rubble. A battery we provided.)”
“(A-Ah battery? W-who told you that?)” Rodrigo stammered, but Carlos ignored the answer.
“(Do you have any idea how hard it’ll be to keep up the smuggling business if he starts to suspect there even is a smuggling business? Need I remind you what happened the last time our guard friend was found out and how long it took us to convince a replacement?!)”
“(I-I… But w-we’re safe! No one knew it was our battery. The Warden is none the wiser. I swear!)”
“(You better not be wrong… because it’ll be a pain to have the prison against us. We lose our advantage, the Nazis and the blacks will be all over us.)” Carlos pushed him up against the back wall of the cell.
“(Don’t worry… Don’t worry…)” was all Rodrigo could say. It was a trial for him to catch his breath, feeling brittle as he was from the punishment’s aftermath.
“(I take it that the battery came from the electric discharger we commissioned from the tinkerer? The one meant to break my collar and the magnetic locks?)” Carlos scoffed.
“(It did…)” Rodrigo said.
“(So you botched what was supposed to be a simple delivery!?)”
“(No no no… I… It was a setup!)” Rodrigo stammered.
“(A setup?)”
“(Y-Yeah… He didn’t want to go anywhere else to do the handoff. We had to do the conversation too close to the Nazi table.)” Rodrigo managed to push himself up, his eyes widening at the realization… the realization of a lie that could save him. “(In fact… he never handed it over. I would wager he never planned to do it! He even joked about making deals with the other gangs. Maybe he already did!)”
Carlos looked down at Rodrigo, his face obscured by the low light, keeping anyone from guessing his thoughts on the excuse. And then he turned towards the men that were plugging the cell’s entrance. “(Is this true?)”
The man hesitated for a moment, though not failing to notice Rodrigo giving them subtle encouraging nods. “(The… uh… the man refused to move away.)”
“(The Nazis attacked soon after.)”
“(Maybe… Maybe…)” Rodrigo weighed in. “(Maybe he even lied to us about being able to do something like that… I mean, who could make a taser out of scraps.)”
“(Hm…)” Carlos frowned. “(If that’s the case, then he needs to be dealt with immediately. A message needs to be sent, not just to the other groups but to the guards that we’re willing to keep their cover. And, if that wasn’t the case, he still failed to deliver. The penalty is the same.)”
“(So you’re saying…)”
“(You want to make yourself useful, rat? Deal with the old man.)” Carlos snorted as he walked out of the cell, with the members of the Coyotes moving out of the way to let him through.
“(What are you going to do?)” one of them asked as he moved in to help Rodrigo up.
“(What-what? What are we gonna do?)” Rodrigo snorted, almost smacking the guy for his dumb question. “(We’re obviously going to eliminate the old man. What's death here in this prison? Better go get the shivs.)”
“(Are we going to do it right now?)”
“(Since we’re going to be eating meals in our cells from now on until the chow hall reopens, we should probably do it just before curfew.)” Which put them at around forty-five minutes left to act.
“(I’ve seen Seth in the showers before dinner. He always takes his time because of his bad leg.)” a guy said, cracking his back. “(Although, I don’t think he’s doing it tonight. Saw him fall down on all fours and get some help from that Nico guy.)”
“(Ah, yes, that Nico… We’ll deal with him later… But this is good, we know where to strike. Let’s go get him–)” Rodrigo groaned as he felt his legs want to give out and back attempt to break itself again. “(Ugh… We’ll do it tomorrow… Can’t kill anyone today.)”
The men nodded, agreeing as they continued their stumbling procession out of the empty cell.
Saturday, January 29th - 8:36pm
The Stonewall. Building A - Cellblock 2
Clank. Clank…
The sound of thin metal came rattling in against the thick bars of the cell door.
“What- Ow… Ow…” Nico groaned as he pushed himself up on his bed. A part of him hoped that a nap would help him recover from the Warden’s disciplinary measure… all it seemed to do was just push the ‘snooze’ button on his problems, which came back with full force the moment his eyes opened.
“Fucking hell…” he mumbled, turning over to look at the tray with food that rested in the door’s slot. His dinner. The same meat and mashed potatoes from earlier, and yet looking just about like the stuff he needed… and yet…
The guard emerged from the other side aisle, pushing a cart along making the rounds. He looked down at Nico, still not getting himself up from the bed, and then down at the full tray of food. And, without a shred of remorse, picked the thing to dump the contents into the trashcan.
“Wait, I haven’t eaten!” Nico objected.
The guard, one with the nametag of ‘Shuster’, just gave him an annoyed look before finishing throwing everything and stacking the tray along with the others he’d collected.
“Hey! I haven’t eaten!” Nico objected, marching over to the cell’s door only to find it predictably locked.
“Asshole,” Nico growled. Fortunately, the man hardly appeared interested in disciplining him. Annoyed, he pushed the cart over to pick up the next tray.
“Ha ha!” one of the guys from the next cell mocked him.
“Shut up!” Nico snapped.
“Wow, Nico is being touchy,” another guy taunted.
“You would too if you’d had the day I had!” Nico snapped, moving around to shake off the ants off his body.
“Aw, well excuse me, princess. Should’ve kept yourself out of trouble. Wasn’t that your plan?”
“I don’t need a lecture from a cop-killer.”
“Oh, funny. We’ll see about this in the yard. I’ll teach you not to talk back.”
“Do as you want,” Nico grumbled.
Yesterday’s Nico would’ve berated him for being so reckless. But yesterday’s Nico was also the fool that got his savings sucked dry by his lawyer. And that was what bothered him as he paced around, trying to get his mind in order.
He’d hoped that this was all a dream. He’d hoped that to be the case, but there was no denying it the moment he saw the tray of food, confirming the punishment doled out by the warden, that confirmed the fight from earlier that day in the cafeteria, that confirmed the horrible news he’d received.
Now he was definitely stuck in prison, with no money, no one to help him, no hope of getting out. It’s not fair. It wasn’t fair. He’d been the model of a respectable citizen–but for specific and long-awaited paperwork–up until the point that his luck took a flip and he wound up here. He wasn’t like any of these people. He shouldn’t be here…
He rested himself against the bars, looking to the same sight he’d gotten used to since he got here. The handrails that let him gaze over to the level below and above at the other prisoners, who were also killing time in their own cells. The digital clock hanging up against the walkway’s edge marked the time in bright red letters: 8:50. Was this the fate he looking onward to for the next couple of years until someone realized their mistake and let him go? If they ever did? And then what?
Suddenly the actions of his cellmate made some sense…
“I’m not a criminal. I’m not a criminal. I’m not an outlaw!” he told himself over and over as he paced around. His arm was ready to throw a punch against the concrete wall, only for sense to prevail at the last moment.
Eventually, exhausted, he moved back to his bed and sat down, only for the world to go dark as lights out began.
Krackoon!
A crack of thunder resonated in the distance, its echo carrying itself through the rest of the empty hallways, to wake an exhausted Nico.
Sleep wasn’t impossible in this place; it was just of the poorest quality that could be conceived. Either the constant feeling of danger made him prone to waking up quickly, or the lack of mental peace made it hard to get back into it. Either way, he was back within the realm of consciousness looking up at the pitch-black darkness of the middle of the night. What time was it? He had no idea…
“I just need to sleep. I just need to sleep. Take it one day at a time,” he said, though now the words he repeated every day came out as insulting to him. Getting up in the dark, he felt his way towards the bars, trying to peek at the time on the clock.
There was nothing.
Strange, Nico thought. Even if the lights were out, the digital clock was always working.
“Could it be?” he muttered to himself, feeling his way to the door of the cell. “A blackout?”
Taking a deep breath, he rattled them, trying to pull them open…
Cla-clank.
Nope. Nothing. The locks were still in place.
“Worth a shot… Although… what would I have done? Skulked my way to the reception and out?” Nico shook his head. “Nah…” he said, looking away, only to spot that the digital clock had come back to life. The red numbers marking 00:33.
“Ugh…” was all Nico said as he dragged himself back to the bed, resting on the thin mattress. “Can’t believe…” he suddenly trailed off.
There were some things in the world that couldn’t be understood. Some things that made little sense or couldn’t be described tangibly. Feelings out of the five senses. There was a lack of void in the air. A spot occupied, a breath that couldn’t be heard. There was something here. A presence.
“Is someone there?” he said, half dreading the idea that his former cellmate had decided to haunt this place.
There was no answer. And yet that didn’t remove the unsettling feeling.
He rolled over to the side, about to close his eyes to force the sleep when...
“Don’t react…”
A voice came through. It was a thin quiet whisper, too high pitched to come from anyone he’d met in the past five months. A girl’s voice.
He gasped, perplexed. Did he just hear that? Was it real or just his mind playing tricks on him?
So the voice reaffirmed itself: “Don’t scream.”
Nico heeded the words. Either out of dread or morbid curiosity. But what was more unsettling was that he could now tell they were coming from under his bed.
“What’s your name?”
“N-Nico Sandoval…” Nico whispered back.
“Nico Sandoval…” the voice repeated.
A long silence lingered through. Long enough to make Nico wonder if that little exchange had been real. The easier way to check it would’ve been to get up and blindly reach under the bed… but he was admittedly scared of what he would find. ‘No, there was no way. What would a girl be doing in a man’s prison?’ he thought.
“You’re good,” the girl’s voice whispered.
“Who… who are you?” Nico whispered.
“Me? I’m just a monster under the bed. And I can do you a favor… if you do something for me.”
