Fucking hell. I am sorry. So damn sorry. I'm a melting pot of fucked-up'ed-ness.
One part persistence, one part carbon, a dash of hemophobia, and a cup of nyctophilia. The garnish?
Derangement.
-D.O.C
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I... I don't really have a disclaimer. Only an apology.
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There was a certain hierarchy in every prison.
The scum, the ones who were always killed in some awful, albeit deserved, way, were pedophiles and molesters.
Next came woman-beaters and rapists, along with rapist/murderers, then came the arsonists.
Up above them came the petty burglars and thieves, then assailants, then the heist-pullers. The big dogs.
At the very top were murderers, the kind that killed rival gang members, or sly cops, or government workers. The ones families wanted to get the chair. The ones who devised ways to kill fellow prisoners with a ball-point pen's discarded cap.
That's where a man fell. A man with grayish-brown hair, falling to his shoulders. The one with pale, soulless, ice-blue eyes.
He wore his bright-orange suit with something akin to boredom, instead of shame or pride. He wasn't like the others.
"Yo, Snake!" A laughing character was walked past his cell, cuffs sparkling on his wrists, "You were right, you dirty fuck! They got me, again!"
"Not surprised," the man's rasping voice filtered through his bars.
"You lookin' to get offed, bitch?!" The captured thief lunged, but two guards pulled him back on course.
"As if you could." Snake replied, graveled voice on the edge of taunting.
When the concrete corridor was clear, once again, the male relaxed on his bunk.
He listened contently to the whispered threats floating from cell to cell, the murmured sweet nothings, the declarations of vengeance, the groans of boredom, and raunchy propositions.
"All of you are sick," he called out, after a deep voice asked for a... favor from a higher-pitched, and a chorused denial washed around his ears, as bigger men defended their right to their bitches.
"Just 'cause you ain't never tried it-"
"Because it's wrong." He deadpanned, and an uproar sounded.
"Probably because you're the bitch!"
"Yeah, your little ass must be tight!"
"I bet'chu want it every night, but'chu too 'fraid to ask for it!"
He wouldn't answer them. Not with words... or a fight. Especially when a fight would result in a few body-bags and his jumpsuit covered in blood.
He didn't fancy going to solitary confinement.
Snake liked quiet, but he wasn't too keen on it if it was a deafening silence.
But then, a hush fell over the hall, and a few catcalls were made.
"Mmm, gonna tear that up."
"Not if I get 'em, first!"
His cell opened, and he perked up, angrily.
"Calm down, Snake. You can deal with a cellmate."
"Oh, I know I can." He growled at one of the guards, who placed a hand on his stun-gun. A warning.
He laid his head back down, air whistling through his teeth.
Snake heard a pair of feet scuff over the concrete floor, and he made a mental note to make his new roomie sweep out any dust he tracked in.
The door slid back into place, and heavy locks were activated.
Once the guards were gone, he snapped, "I will fucking kill you."
He relished in the sound of the newbie's jaws clicking shut, probably from when they parted to give a greeting.
Opening his eyes, Snake sat up from his bed, looking across the small cell to assess his foe.
A lanky, boyish male stood near his own bunk, not even daring to sit down- whether it be from fright, politeness, or the fact there was a scattering of library books over its entirety.
"You brought in dust," Snake snarled, standing from his bunk and advancing toward the stranger.
The teenage-esque man raised his gaze, dark eyes flashing at the veteran prisoner.
"Why don't you go choke on someone's dick?"
Snake halted at the venomous tone, and snapped his fist backwards, close enough to strike the impudent whelp.
At the last moment, the stranger dodged the blow, and cried out, "CALM THE FUCK DOWN!"
The taller man growled, turning to face the newest addition, again.
The dark-eyed male stood against the far wall, "So... eh, what's your story?..."
"How about I tell the story about how you fuck off?" Snake twitched in irritation, starting to stack up his books, deciding to ignore the other.
"You're... Snake, right?"
Silence.
"Well, I'm Soup."
An eyebrow raised.
The skinny man's face reddened, in embarrassment. "Shit... I meant Scott..."
'He just messed up his own name. Fucking moron.'
"You can call me Jund, if you want."
"I thought your name was, 'Soup,'"
"Fuck off." Scott hissed.
"Whatever, Campbell." The larger male narrowed his piercing eyes, "Stay the fuck away from me."
"Too bad we're bunking together, then." Was the muttered reply.
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Gonna post this on Tumblr.
Never seen a prison-set Snund fic.
Sorry.
-D.O.C