At Her Majesty's Pleasure #4

"At Her Majesty's pleasure" (sometimes abbreviated to "Queen's pleasure") is a legal term of art referring to the indeterminate length of sentence of some prisoners.

#4 – Ivan

It was half past five in the evening.

The corridors were empty; the prisoners, having ended their work day, were being herded to wash up before dinner. In the distance there were sounds of gates slamming, punctuating Ivan's clicking footsteps as he walked through a windowless but brightly-lit corridor. He was headed towards the halfway house where new inmates were kept before being assigned a dormitory and integrated into the rest of the ward.

Alfred Jones was held in a halfway cell still as his transfer papers from the juvenile detention centre had yet to arrive. This happened to work in Ivan's favour since he intended to carry out Carlos' directive to its fullest satisfaction.

Just the thought of what he had in mind made his lips twitched at the corners in a smile.

"Stand behind the yellow line," Warden Laurinaitis intoned over the intercom. "Stand behind the yellow line, Eleven-Two-Oh-One, and put your hands out, please."

Alfred Jones shuffled out of bed, hair tousled and eyes heavy sleep, before stumbling to his feet and taking his place neatly behind the yellow line chalked to the floor. The boy suppressed a yawn as the gate buzzed and slid open with an electric hum.

Two wardens strode in and handcuffed the young prisoner's wrists together, and when they were done Ivan stepped in and nodded to dismiss them. The bars shut behind him with a clang.

"Good evening, Alfred. Ah, but I see you have been given your new name."

#4 – Alfred

It took a moment for the fog to clear, and for his eyes to adjust and focus without the aid of his glasses on the Chief Warden's coldly smiling countenance. Instinctively, his cuffed hands lifted in a defensive pose; he couldn't explain why, but the sight of the Chief Warden made him wary.

Chief Warden Braginski took a step forward, and it was all Alfred could do to stop himself from taking a step back.

"In my prison I expect to be greeted on sight," the Chief Warden said mildly.

Alfred flushed, but kept his ground and simply stared.

The Chief Warden changed his tact.

He took two strides forwards – so quickly that Alfred had no time to react – clamped his hand around the boy's neck and pushed him up against the wall. Alfred let out a choked sound, more from surprise than any real pain, but fear began to bubble as the Chief Warden tightened his grip.

"This isn't personal," the Chief Warden breathed. "Simply a reminder that for as long as you serve in my prison, you answer to me. Is that clear?"

Alfred stared up at him, wide-eyed. He choked again as the Chief Warden pressed into his windpipe.

"Am I making myself clear?" he pressed.

Alfred nodded as vigorously as the Chief Warden would allow in his vice-like grip.

"Good."

The Chief Warden loosened his hold, and Alfred gasped and convulsed into a coughing fit from the air hitting the back of his throat.

Before he had time to recover, the Chief Warden said in a cold voice, "Carlos sends his regards."

Bonus!Toris

Chief Warden Braginski's assault on Eleven-Two-Oh-One rolled in eerie, black-and-white silence from one of the CCTV screens lining the control room. A chair creaked in the darkness of the room as Warden Laurinaitis sat up and rolled over to look more closely at the screen.

As he watched, Braginski seized the young prisoner by his cuffed wrists and pinned them above his head against the back of the cell. With his free hand, he began undoing the front of the prisoner's jumpsuit, his fingers deftly popping each button out of its buttonhole. The prisoner hung lifelessly from his wrists, his face downcast and pale with fright.

"Eduard," he called. "Make sure to wipe the tape later for Cell B12."