Flaca's POV

This day sucks! After we all jumped the gate and went for a swim, Caputo rounded us all up and gave us all two shots. TWO SHOTS! Can you believe that pendejo? Now on top of that we have a bunch inmates that moved up here from MAX, meaning all the bunks are getting swapped around and that means I'm not bunking with Maritza anymore.

Like I said, this day sucks.

It takes everything in me to not throw this tray at the blanca with the fucked up denture teeth and a messiah complex. So instead I get up and throw my tray away. I've got to get to the panty sweatshop anyway.

Donut Boy tries to stop me until I give him a vicious glare. Hmm... I'm going to have to remember to use that more often. It's not everyday that an inmate can scare off a guard.

In short time I make my way to the sweatshop. Sitting down at my station in front of Black Cindy, I get to work on my quota for today.

"Girl, what's got yo panties in a bunch? Ha! get it? Cause... we... work... in... nevermind..." off my glare she starts to slowly shut up.

"Fucking Caputo, fucking MAX inmates, FUCKING BUNK REASSIGNMENTS!" I fume. It's total bullshit. Me and Maritza have been bunkmates since day fucking one it's not fair that now is the time that Caputo wants to switch shit up. Like what the fuck?

"Chill girl, it ain't like you never gone to see the bitch ever again. Like my people say, Namasté and shit." Off of that Chapman pipes up... Ha! get it? 'pipes up' cause... her... name... Shut up.

"Actually Namasté is Indian and means 'I see into you' and has nothing to do with calming down... or the Jewish religion for that matter."

"Shut up white girl, ain't nobody asked you."

"Quiet back there! This is work time, not gossip hour." Off that we stay quiet for the rest of our shift. Fucking sweatshop, they're lucky they pay me $1/ph.

By the time I make it back to Spanish Harlem I see that someone is sitting on Maritza's old bunk. Well looks like I'm going to have to lay down the law. Just cause she's from MAX doesn't mean that she can intimidate me.

As I get closer to my bunk I slowly start to realize how wrong my previous statement is. This bitch is HUGE. I can't tell what her height is because she's sitting but she is by no means a skinny bitch and I can also tell that her weight isn't all fat. there's definitely muscle there.

I get to my bunk and I examine her further. Dark brown hair styled in a long mohawk that comes past her shoulder, light tan skin, deltoids that would make most body builders jealous, arms covered in tattoos of all different styles of art, high cheek bones, and dark brown almost black eyes with a tear drop tattoo underneath her left eye... who did she lose?

She looks up at me when I sit down on my bunk. Not saying anything just staring... so it begins. I stare back not showing any sign of intimidation. That is until one of the new guards gets closer to our bunks and I break concentration... shit I shouldn't have done that.

"Twobears, come with me." She stands up and that's when I see her true height... She's about 6'0". She follows the guard down the hall. Twobears? She's a native? She looks too light skinned to be native. But whatever the case I'm glad she's gone. That was intense, she didn't even look angry or mean but none-the-less she was terrifying. Like she could kill someone just by looking at them.

No POV

Standing in front of Caputo is one of the most dangerous inmates he's ever been around... atleast according to his file. Her demeanor speaks otherwise.

"Twobears, have a seat." She sits down at his command with a neutral expression. "I called you in here because I have some concerns."

"What's that?" She asks in her light gruff voice. It takes Caputo a moment to get back his composure. If her eyes weren't intimidating, her voice did the trick.

"Given your record; the two counts of homicide and one count of torture, you're dangerous. Given your behavioral report; the multiple assaults on both inmates AND officers... well you can see my concern." He's says with as much authoritative gall as possible. He's not dealing with a petty larsonist or a drug dealer. She is a cold blooded killer.

"As long as nobody messes with me, nobody will get hurt."

"What, pray tell, constitutes as 'messing with you'?" Caputo says becoming a little more confident in his wording.

"I have three rules," she starts counting them off on one hand starting with her thumb. "Number one, don't get in my way." Next one on her index finger. "Number two, don't mess with my food." And finally on her middle finger. "And number three, only address me as Roja."

Caputo sits there appalled. Never has an inmate talked to him in that manner or spoke about rules. He feels his power and authority are being put to question and he will not stand for it.

"Listen inmate," that last word emphasized with such scorn. "I'm the warden and you're the prisoner. I call the shots, not you!" He says face red and three steps from exploding. But Roja doesn't react; she doesn't flinch at his yelling. She stands up and goes toward his office door looking as if she's about to leave.

"What do you think you're-" his question cut off by the sound of her locking the doorknob. Caputo pales knowing his pride might've overriden his ass. In the heat of his anger he forgot one simple fact. She's a cold blooded killer.

In two steps she's in front of him. The next second she has her hand around his throat; surprising Caputo with how big her hands are by being able to choke him with only one. She pulls him over his desk and stares into his grey fearful eyes with her own cold dark ones.

"Does your special little file tell you my life story? Do you know what I do?" She says indifferently. He struggles but manages to shake his head 'no'. "I am a wrestler. My job is to hurt people. I love my job. Now if you never want me to exercise my occupational passion, I suggest that you never, never, speak to me in such insolent tones ever again."

Her eloquence throws him. The only other inmate that he knows of with a wide vocabulary is Chapman. He never expected her to be well versed.

"Are we clear?" Her tone light, almost contenting. This puts the fear of god into Caputo; it tells him that she will snap his neck with a song in her heart and no moral remorse. He frenzies to nod his head yes and struggles to speak.

"Crystal!" He rasps. She releases his neck and he falls onto his desk. She bends down to stare him in the eyes. Captivating him and locking his attention as she speaks.

"Remember my rules and this will never happen again." With this he believes her. He's never believed anything as much as her statement right now. He nods in confirmation, too afraid to speak. With a click of the locking mechanism on his door she takes her leave.

Flaca POV

Dinner is terrible... as usual. But we get it, Red. You didn't cook it! I'm sitting at our usual table the only ones here are me, Maritza, Mama Diaz, and Mendoza. Everyone else is working in the back. I look up from my shit soup and see Twobears walking to a table with no one else sitting there.

"Hey mija, isn't that your new bunkmate?" Ugh I wish not.

"Why does the indio got to sit by herself? To good or something?" Mendoza bitches. She's old school you know? You live in Spanish Harlem, you eat with Spanish Harlem.

"She's not even a latina, it's probably good that she doesn't want to sit with us." Maritza is about as pissed off about bunk reassignments as I am. Atleast there's that.

"She's too intense to be around. She looks like she could break someone in half. It's bad enough I share sleeping space with her, I don't want to be around her more than I have to."

"I heard she strangled Caputo in his office, she doesn't play no shit. She's not like the rest of us con artist and petty theives... she's a killer." Mama Diaz then goes from staring at her to looking at us. With a smirk she says "I'm gonna go fuck with her." She then gets up and walks toward her table... Dios mio she's going to die!

No POV

Aleida isn't the type to back down from a challenge and to her, that's what Flaca's new bunkmate represented. But Mama Diaz isn't stupid. She'll play this cool, try and get on the new inmate's good side... hopefully. She takes a breath before she sits with the native.

"Twobears, right? So what are you in here for?" She asks with as much confidence as she can muster. After closer examination, the tall Indian girl is pretty intimidating. She looks up from her food and gives Aleida a blank stare.

"Do you even speak?" At this she continues to stare but blinks as if crickets are chirping in the background.

"¿Habla español?" Aleida smirks hoping the answer is no. To her the less people who understand her first language, the less people in her business.

the former MAX inmate looks up yet again at the older latina and a slow smirk slides onto her face.

"No." She answers simply. Truth be told she doesn't know that much Spanish but she can translate what Aleida is asking her. A 5 year old would know how to translate that. Aleida narrowed her eyes at the stocky inmate.

"Ok, smartass. Come join us at our table. You live with us, you might as well eat with us." To this Roja looked up, contemplating Aleida's intention's. Her past experiences tell her that when someone is extending an olive branch, it means they want something from her. Brushing off her offer and remembering what she just called her, she responds.

"Don't call me Twobears." She says in a warning tone. It takes the older latina a minute to register her tone of voice but once she realizes it, a chill runs up her spine.

"Ok... what should I call you?" She asks with hands slightly in the air in surrender. She's heard the rumors about her record and Caputo. She's not taking chances.

"Roja." One simple word yet that word strikes a chord in Aleida. She realizes that coming over to fuck with the new girl, was probably not a good idea. But that doesn't stop her next statement.

"Roja, huh? You know we already have a Red. She works in the kitchen actually she's the head hancho."

"Don't care." The more Roja speaks the more Aleida realizes that Gonzalez is right. She's way too intense.

Aleida stands to go back to her table but before she does, she leans on the table to say "The offer still stands, mija." She walks away after that feeling accomplished by not getting hurt by the brutish inmate.

Roja's POV

I fucking hate people. They piss me off. The next person to talk to me after that, I'm going to choke slam them into the concrete. It's bad enough that my bunkmate gave me the evil eye. I fucking dare that bitch to start some shit. I fucking hate this place but I guess it's better than MAX. This food sucks, whoever made this should be shot and then drawn and quartered. Maybe I should work in the kitchen. Teach these bitches a thing or two.

I get up and dump my tray. I turn to walk off and a guard stops me.

"Inmate, where are you going?" I blink. Apparently Caputo didn't spread the word like I hoped. That's ok because here comes the fun part... are you ready for the fun part?

I pivot on my left foot into an about face and my right hand comes across his face as I do. He falls sideways against the grated wall. Didn't I say something about a choke slam? Welp better make good on my promise. I grab him by the throat, throw his right arm over my shoulder, and pick him up only to slam him into said concrete. I look to my bunkmate and her friends and grin sadistically.

the next thing I know two more guards rush at me. Caputo out of nowhere stops them and says something to them. No doubt explaining the situation. Awww... no more fun...

"I'm sorry Roja, the night shift just started. I haven't had a chance to call a meeting... but I think you've made your point clear." He's says calmly while pointing a look behind me.

Most of the other inmates are shocked and statuesque, the others are not surprised. Those who are not surprised were with me in MAX. I turn to take my leave and Caputo lets me.

Flaca's POV

Ho… ly… shit… If I didn't think she was dangerous before I know now. This chica has literally no fucks to give. I think Caputo has met his match… screw that he's met a brick wall that he can't get pass. I know I'm not the only one scared I look around and everyone is slack jawed. I need to make friends with her.

I get up and throw my tray away, I don't have any problems with the guards because… well you know. I make my way to Spanish Harlem.