Chapter One

((New York Jail Facility))

"You are fucking asshole!"

"Shut the fucking hell up!"

Many comments of swearing and violence were flung around the jail cells like a game of Chinese shouting whispers. The guards started their rounds in five minutes or so which gave all the inmates more time to shout and argue with each other. Day in and day out this happened without fail. It was constant without a stop.

"Will you just fucking shut that hole in your face? No one wants to hear your bloody voice!"

One on the inmates called across one side of the prison to the other. Some people could deal with the constant arguing, but other just argued back for something to do. Jail had nothing to do what so ever which leads the people there to make up their own entertainment, no matter what it was. If the guards don't catch you, then the game continues until it gets boring. Most of the inmates were talking about anything they could possibly think of to pass the time before they were let out of their cells for a while.

For one person, nothing like this happened. Sitting on one of the four beds, staring at the wall across from him and leaning back against the cold wall to the cell, his left foot was sitting on the edge of the bed whilst his right one was hanging lazily off the front of it. He had only been there for a few weeks or so, no longer than three or four weeks. His thumb was flicking back and forth as if he had as if he had a lighter in his hand. Unfortunately it was taken off of him as soon as he was brought to jail. Sighing out of complete boredom, another argument started. He had heard this one before. Something about a killing or a murder.

"Hey! Lookie the guards are finally here."

One of the inmates called tauntingly and as soon as he said that, three guards came through the doors. He had seen them often enough to know their names. Brendan Redman and Kristopher Krutch. Other times it would be other guards, but they were the ones that let some of the inmates out for some 'fresh air', and a whole lot of fights. This was nothing out of the ordinary or anything unusual. Fights started and the guards stopped it by splitting the people up. Turning his attention away from the wall, his gaze turned to the two guards. A smirk was set across his pale lips and a light quiet laugh escaped afterwards. The taunting was always one of the fun parts.

"You's are fricking mutherfoockers"

One of the inmates, Michael 'Micky' Vane, called with a slight tint of anger in his voice, was one of those people who just couldn't speak right no matter how hard he tried. It was amusing to listen to his odd conversations as they never made sense. Micky was well built and looked more like a bouncer than a stunt artist. He was around 6'3 and weighted at the moment 200 pounds. He had been put in jail for apparently killing twins with a knife when they were on their way home from school. Police had caught him within the hour. Stupid fucker went back to the area he killed the twins. How stupid could someone get? Well with Micky it wasn't difficult.

"Shut up Vane."

Redman replied hitting some of the bars as he passed with the Baton as he walked down the corridor with Krutch by his side. Both of them had seen their fair share of fights and had gotten into a few with trying to stop them. They had the marks to prove it. Police uniforms and two well built men who looked like they could kill you if they wanted to, whether they were allowed to or not. As the inmates started getting let out one by one, Redman opened the cells and Krutch steered them in the direction away from the other free inmates.

His was the last cell to get open in that row, there was still other's to let out. His eyes narrowed as he shoved himself off of the bed and began to walk out of the cell and down the corridors to the jail yard. Although the jail yard wasn't all that big, people did get to get some air, got to smoke and hang around with so called 'friends'. For him, he just liked to piss people off and get into fights for the sheer hell of it. His first week in the jail yard and he had already ended up with a black eye, the second week he had been banned from leaving the cell unless it was for food. Third week was just beginning.

"Inmate 3265093."

As Turner Benjamin called out to the rest of the inmates to which the ignored, the doors slide open and a boy with brown and blonde hair stepped out into the light, he frowned slightly as the sun went into his eyes before stepping out of the prison fully into the jail yard. Free for two hours, or until he got into a fight. Avoiding eye contact with anyone, he made his way over to the corner of the fence and leaned back against it, placing his left foot on the wires of the fence. As the wind blew through his hair and ruffled his clothing slightly, he listened to any callings of his name. He joined in the fights, hardly ever started them.

"Inmate 4851127."

Looks like Micky was the next to get realised. The fight. The one who always started fights even if the guards were watching. Micky was always watched, but at time when the guards were busy, he would start up a fight with any other inmate and if he was in a daring mood, one of the guards. Never worked out so well in the end. He mostly got hurt worse than the guard.

The day was cold and a bit miserable, but everyone suffered through it. The cells were stuffy and nothing really interesting happened. Outside it was a whole different story. Many people worked out, got into fights, randomly swore at any passing guards or other inmates and the most entertaining sight, the failing escape. Some had tried to escape many times only for the guards to catch them. The ones, who did try it, ended up staying inside for two weeks for punishment of trying to escape.

"Hey fooktared, i'm gonna kick your arse."

So they fighting was just beginning.