AN - My homage to the opening scene of The Blues Brothers. This is short, and silly, but it wouldn't leave me alone after I watched a re-run of the movie.
Disclaimer - I own nothing except a fertile imagination.
Freedom.
The day had just broken free from the confines of the horizon as the silver Chevy Camaro made the turn into the parking lot.
Pulling into one of the many vacant spots, the driver checked his watch, then peered out at the large building ahead of him. With an impatient sigh, he turned off the engine, released the catch on his seatbelt, then tugged on the knot of his tie a few times, before settling back in his seat to wait.
Inside the building, a heavy iron door clanged as it slid open. One after the other, two uniformed guards stepped through, then waited a few seconds for it to close again before moving away.
"Twenty bucks says he slept in his clothes." The taller of the two said, as they made their way along the gangway.
"Another twenty says he didn't sleep at all." His colleague replied.
They came to a halt outside one of the thick metal doors. "You're on." The first guard grinned. He reached up and lowered the cover of a small window set into the door.
"Shit!"
Inside, a fully clothed man stood at ease beside a perfectly made bed, and greeted them with a smile.
"Told you." The second guard grinned. "Officer Mokiao requesting a door release. Block H, Cell 50." He said into his radio.
A buzzer went off, and when the door opened, the two men stepped back to allow the prisoner to exit.
Wordlessly, the three men made their way along the gangway, back through the door at the end, and then down another corridor, before turning right into a room marked, "Parole Office".
At the desk, the man dutifully stayed on the right side of the thick white line painted on the floor.
An unsmiling guard looked up from the paper he was reading and peered at them over the top of his glasses.
"Number?"
"794328. For release." Officer Mokiao said.
The guard closed his paper and put it aside. Pushing his heavy frame out of his chair, he disappeared, returning a few minutes later carrying a piece of paper and a large box. He dropped the box on the counter with a thud, and pointed to the number on the front.
The prisoner read the number then nodded his head.
"One shirt," The guard read from the piece of paper as he pulled things from the box. "Black. One pair of cargo pants, black. One pair of military style boots, black. One," he paused and looked up at the prisoner. "Armoured body vest, black." The prisoner returned his blank stare, so the guard shrugged, then went back to pulling items from the box. "One shoulder holster, one thigh holster, one ankle holster, one knife sheath, all, black. One cell phone, battery dead. One camouflage paint stick, slightly used. And one roll of duct tape, also slightly used." He slid the paper to the edge of the desk and pointed to the bottom. "Sign here."
Twenty minutes later, movement behind the tall gate set into the thirty foot wall ahead of him, drew the Camaro driver's attention. Shoving at the car door, he climbed out, just as the gate slowly slid open, and a tall figure dressed in black came striding out.
They walked towards each other, paused for a moment, then embraced briefly.
Without a word, the two of them returned to the car, and climbed in.
The prisoner threw the brown paper bag he'd been carrying into the back, then held his hand out.
"So, how bad was it?" His friend asked, handing him the keys.
The prisoner started the car, and peeled out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust.
"I see," His friend said, "That bad."
The prisoner smiled, "I've been in worse."
His friend rolled his eyes, then reached forward.
"What ya doing?"
"Turning the radio on, because you're about to launch into one of your, "Once, when I was I was SEAL camp", stories."
"No I wasn't."
"Yes you were.
"Danny, you asked how bad it was, and I said, I've been in worse."
"Yes, and then you got that look."
"What look?"
"That sort of...smug look."
"Smug look?" The prisoner laughed.
"Yes, that smug look. The one that says, "I'm hard, and let me tell you how hard". Okay, I get it, you're trained to withstand interrogation and torture. They tried to break you in there, but you're Super Seal Steve, you're unbreakable."
"Danny!" Steve laughed again. "I was in there for 48 hours. They gave me three meals a day, a TV in my cell. It was a freaking holiday camp compared..."
"See, there you go." Danny stopped him. "Can we just listen to the radio? Can we? Please?"
Steve pressed his mouth together and tried not to smile as he nodded his head sharply.
"Good." Danny said, reaching over and turning the radio on.
The sound of, She Caught The Katy, filled the car, and both men lapsed into silence, their heads bobbing to the music as they drove along.