Josh stands back with a satisfied grin as he can see his creation now hanging on the wall. In the distance of Juvenile Hall, sounds of playing and fighting can be heard echoing throughout the corridors. It felt like a Sunday to the boy, but on the inside of the law, one tends to lose track of time. The other kids, particularly his room-mate, Trent Boyett, use their free time with sports, board games, and even fighting to be the best. Josh, however, prefers to sit in his cell, sketching out little pieces of his life.

Humans are all really quite simple. Josh thinks to himself. They are all just pawns in the giant chessboard of life. Because that's all life is; a game. Learn the rules, understand the system, and you can beat it.

Something about the picture isn't quite right. Josh tilts his head to the side, attempting to have a different perspective on it.

Yes, simple indeed…

But his thoughts are interrupted when the door opens abruptly and Trent walks it. Josh turns around to smile at him, but Trent ignores this and looks straight at the drawing.

"Who's that? Your faggy boyfriend?" he smirks.

"Unfortunately, no. It's meant to be the Doctor Hannibal Lecter."

Trent grunts, but Josh smiles eerily, still looking intently at him.

"What the hell to you want, shithead?" Trent snarls. The verbal abuse doesn't faze Josh, as he shrugs his shoulders and counters "What is it that youwould like, Trent?"

"I'd like you outta my face." Trent grumbles. "But seein' as that ain't gonna happen anytime soon, I'm lookin' for my Russell Crowe videotapes."

"Oh, is that so."

"Yeah, seen 'em around?"

Josh motioned towards the desk on the side of the cell, where a couple of his own books are stacked atop the videos. Trent walks over and removes his possessions from the bottom of the stack. The books collapse into a small heap on the floor.

"Still unpackin'?"

"Yes, although I became inspired and had to draw."

"Well, keep your shit away from my stuff." Trent warns. "'Specially my Russell Crowe. I won those in a beef against Romper-Stomper, and I'm not gonna give those up for anything."

"So why is that?" Josh sees an opportunity. "What is so special about these videos anyway?" he demands. "It's really only fighting and fighting. Utterly ridiculous. Perhaps that is why you hold it so dear, having earned it through violence in the first place." He pauses and Trent glares stupidly at him. "You can ruin other people's lives with violence. But will it really make your own life any better? You can be the strongest, Trent, but it won't ever save you from the scars of the flames, the screams of the teacher, the-"

"Josh, get fucked."

Josh sighs, shuts up, and Trent is gone.

Just another regular conversation; and Josh stops to wonder for a moment.

Is Trent a pawn as well?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The juveniles are lying in their beds, late afternoon, resting after a hard day's work.

"Damn, I can't wait till this is fuckin' over."

Josh looked up from his resting position to stare at his blonde companion. "Oh, really? So what do you plan on doing when this is 'fuckin' over'?"

"Why the hell do you care?"

"Pure curiosity, I can assure you."

Trent didn't quite trust this, but he continued anyway, more for his own benefit than Josh's. "I'm gonna get the hell outta here," he mutters. "And I'm gonna make those shitheads pay."

"Excuse me?"

"Y'know, those kids I told you about. The whole reason I'm here."

"Oh, of course." Josh digests this for a moment. "So what in particular do you plan on doing?"

Trent glares at him.Stupid fuck asks so many goddamn questions. "You know, the usual shit." Trent says cockily. "Trent Boyett style."

"And what is that, particularly?"

"Wedgies, noogies, swirlies, wet-willies, Indian sunburns, and of course, Texas Chili Bowls." Trent lists them as he's recited them in his head so many times.

"Immature, yet classy. I like how you think, Trent."

"Yeah, and you? With that 'toilet-papering' houses and whatever?"

"Indeed, I like to consider my form of 'damage' as an art."

"Pfft." Trent scoffs. "It doesn't seem like you're very good at what you're doin', isn't this the third time I seen yah here?"

Josh rolls over in his bed and doesn't respond.

"Hah. Toilet papering." Trent says with scorn, glad that for once he has the upper hand. "And you act like you're all better than me."

"Well," Josh interrupts. "Toilet-papering isn't the worst type of revenge. And it would be an interesting addition to your other mentioned punishments." His face wanes a smile. "It would add to the irony, as I believe those boys did the same to a certain teacher."

"I'm not doin' that."

"Hm." Josh takes a moment to think. "Well, you could always take the advice from my all-time hero, Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"What'd he do?"

Josh grins. "He ate his victims. But that was an art form as well."

"WHAT!" Trent explodes. "You're crazy!"

Josh sighs. "It was just a suggestion."

Trent huffs. "Your hero. I can't believe this. And you're my room-mate, of ALL people."

Josh grins widely, only encouraged by this.

"Besides, one of those kids is like, enormous." Trent adds. "Do you have any idea how many calories that would be?"