Don't Fuck with Batman and Robin
14th June
Robin's plan of running and keeping the kitchen consisted of three well thought out components. Demand, loyalty and muscle. They are meeting demand, there is not one man craving a cigarette or a lad going with out his favourite video game. Oddly enough prisoners are loyal customers. People are satisfied, because with Robin what you see is what you got. Word is spreading. As long as you pay the agreed upon amount you will get exactly what you ask for. The only problem is muscle.
That is where Robin suggests Warren and his men came in. To say Brendan is reluctant would be an understatement of massive proportions. He is violently and adamantly against it. It isn't ideal but Robin can't see another way around the issue that hey do need protection.
-8-
On Wednesday afternoons Brendan skipps kitchen duties in favour of watching Night Rider in the leisure room. A group of six or so disgruntled Turkish inmates have been watching and taking note of his and Robins movements and use it to their adavantage. They plan a hit on the kitchen and the chapel, to take back what they saw as righfully their own. They are able to take most of what the priest is hiding but some how Robin and his wafer like merry men manage to hold them off in the kitchen. One lad escapes, frantically running down the prison halls in search of Brendan.
When Brendan reaches the kitchen, there are four of them. Two searching, turning the kitchen upside down for their entire stash, one restraining Robin against a wall and the last just watching.
He doesn't even have time to think before he is reacting, his body taking action before his mind has time to comprehend the consequences. He picks up a frying pan and slams it against the head on the man with his hand around Robin's throat. The impact makes such a noise that every single person freezes, halting in their actions to look at Brendan and the limp body at his feet.
Kaan, the man that had been sitting on a stool, puts down the bag of crisps he was making his way though and toes up to Brendan. More than anything Brendan is just pissed off. All he wants to do is enjoy an episode of Night Rider, he hadn't wanted to get caught up in any of this, yet here he is.
He attractes trouble.
The commotion alertes the guards, who come bursting through the double doors. There's a man knocked out cold on the floor, a lad with his arm broken, Brendan and the leader of the group involved in a stand off and what was found of the kitchen stash in a pile on a table.
Keeping to prison ways nobody says a word. The guards proceed in a search of the entire kitchen, the rest of the stash discovered, of course the guards suspected Brendan but with no one willing to talk they have zero proof, especially with people placing him in the leisure room just minutes before.
The kitchen is no longer a viable place to hide anything and the Turks are gunning for them, after Brendan put their guy in a comma. At this point Brendan has no choice but to ask Warren for his help, there is no way around it. The next morning Robin still has a hand print around his neck, and beyond all this prison kingpin crap he wants to keep the boy safe. There are only three weeks until they are transferred, so really what is he holding onto?
Brendan swallows his pride, ignores Warren's gloating and negotiates the terms of their agrrement.
1) This is not a partnership, Brendan is in change and Warren answers to him.
2) Warren is to paid handsomely for the services he and his men provid.
3) If Warren even thinks about crossing them he would wake up dead.
4) Warren will take over, kitchen, outside connections, the lot, once Brendan is convicted and transfered.
With Kai's release date only days away Warren has been making moves to takeover drugs too. Brendan has an inkling that his plans will not bear fruit. Whether reciding in prison or living as a free man, Kai will still be running the drug game within the four walls of the Leeds Prison. Its is too lucrative for him to just walk away from. Brendan has no clue who will be given the key to the kitchen once Robin has been transferred, but he highly doubts it will be Warren. Warren wants his connections to the outside world, the main one being Joel and his business. Brendan can't figure out how he does it week after week but the kid can get just about anything in unnoticed, what he does know is Joel is never going to agree to work with his father.
In a way he feels sorry for Foxy, things never quite turned out how he hopes. The best laid schemes of mice and men go often awry, and leave us nothing but grief and pain.
-8-
Things have settled since the incident in the kitchen. Warren's men have the numbers and are savages in a fight so the Turkish crew haven't dared retaliate. To be on the safe side nothing is kept in the kitchen or the chapel anymore. Each of the men has his own stash to look after, that way it isn't all kept together and Brendan and Robin are less hands on. The Governor has a stick up his ass about Brendan, having guards search his cell every day, to no avail but it is still an inconvenience.
Robin feels guilty, he had persuaded Brendan to get involved and his quiet prison life had been overturned. The guards want to bring him down, the Turkish are baying for his blood and he has been forced into working with Warren.
-8-
"Boss. Robin. There's been a problem." Archie, one of the men Warren has assigned is stood by their table in the canteen. He is at an awkward distance, knowing how Brendan feels about his space during meal time. The man hesitates waiting from a response, but Brendan doesn't even look away from his meal. "My stash is gone, some ones nicked it."
Robing looks over to Brendan, waiting for a reaction, looking for an indication on how to proceed, but the news isn't enough to distract his attention from his lunch, tuna melt. Robin remembers his words 'this is your plan, you're responsible'.
This is another one of Brendan's lessons, he's on his own.
"Alright mate, I'll get you more stock, keep an ear to the ground, let know if you hear anything."
"Uh, okay. I'll do that." He looks unsure, and obviously unhappy at taking orders from Robin, but with Brendan not getting involved he has no other choice.
"Archibald." Brendan finally looks up from his meal, looks like his only just noticed the conversation between the two men at the table. "Wait." He leans over and whispers instructions to Robin.
"When you speak in that monotone voice, with those stony eyes I can't tell if you're being serious."
"I'm always serious. This was your idea. You need to sort it properly, so no one dares crosses you again. Remember, Perception." that was one of his first lessons, if you're perceived a certain way, true or not, you will be treated accordingly. "You wanted us to be kings of this place, then don't let one of them make jesters of us. "
Robin inhales a large lungful then exhales slowly, psyching himself up to carry out Brendan's instructions. He stands up walking up to Archie, landing a punch on his cheekbone. He stubbles back onto the nearest table, more from the surprise of being punched that the actual punch itself. Robin feels like he's broken his hand, but doesn't let it show as he's gained the attention of the entire canteen. There's no turning back now.
Robin strides to the centre of the room and climbs onto the table, waiting for silence.
"Something has been taken from me, no big deal just I'd like it back. Disclaimer: if I don't get it back the party concerned can expect a visit. Before tonight's roll call would be ideal."
With that he leaves the canteen, Brendan follows, biting into an apple.
They're silent the entire way, when the door to their cell closes behind them Robin lets out all anxiety. "How was I?"
"Show me your hand." Brendan assesses the swollen, red knuckles. "Not sure the well mannered, softly spoken school prefect approach spread fear through a bunch of hardened criminals."
"It works for you."
"It's hard to pull off calm but menacing the way I do. Takes years of practise. All we can do now is wait and see. I don't think it's broken." He runs Robin's hand under freezing cold tape to relieve the inflammation. "I really need to teach you how to throw a punch, kid." Brendan holds him by the base of his neck, smiling down at the shorter man. "Robin, shit's about to hit the fan, we either come out on top or are crushed. The things you've done, been through… fucking remarkable. You'll be fine."
Knowing that Brendan believes in him gives Robin a sense of power, his chest visible puffed out ready for combat. Ready for anything.
-8-
As Brendan had expected the perpetrator of the theft doesn't return the condoms and other stolen items. This foresight means that he spends the day questioning every person he came across, until he finds out who it was. The problem with a cocky thief is he can't keep his mouth shut, needs everybody to know it was him.
After roll call, locked in their cell they spend the better part of the night constructing a plan.
16th June
For the first time in their three months sharing the cell it is Robin who wakes up first. He looks himself over in the mirror, he has changed in the last few months. Has filled out, not muscular but getting there. He feels taller, or maybe it's the confidence he's gained which makes him stand taller, sure of himself. His features aren't as soft, his jaw less round and more angular and his eyes have some how hardened.
He picks up Brendan's electrical razor, the one that he has yet to used by it's owner and starts to shave off his floppy ginger tresses.
"Are you ready for today?"
Robin jumpes a little at Brendan's reflection looking back at him. He hadn't even heard him get up.
"I'll have to be, won't I?"
"You set on what you have to do before hand?"
"Yeah, but aren't you coming with me?"
"No, I've got some last minute arrangements to take care of."
Robin closes his eyes, taking in a breath. "Okay, lets go for breakfast then."
"Robin, today it going to go fine. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Look at us, getting all soft like two girls. Lets go do some stupid shit."
-8-
They are two of the first people to get down, the air around the canteen becoming thick with rigidity as the room fills with more people. Every person chances a look over at them as they joined the queue, waiting for something major to kick off.
"Can you feel that?" Brendan asks.
"Feel what?"
"Tension. You can almost feel it in the air."
"They're anticipating our retaliation?" Robin is feeling the pressure, people are watching, waiting.
"But anticipation has the habit of setting you up for disappointment."
"We won't disappoint them. I won't disappoint you."
"Good lad." Brendan smiles, tapping his cheek.
They sit in silence after that. Brendan is calm and collected, enjoying his breakfast putting aside the events that are to take place in the next hour and a half. Robin on the other hand has taken up the habit of fidgeting once again, his leg bouncing under the table and his own breakfast untouched.
Just as the wait is getting too much for Robin, Warren finally walks in. Once he is seated Robin goes over to have private chat, impressed by his own ability to clear the table of Warrens cronies. Or are they his and Brendan's cronies now? He knows better than to let Warren in on the their plans. He keeps it to the bare essentials, when and where a few of his guys are needed.
As they sit, making sure Warren understands exactly what is needed from him, Robin can't help but keep one eye on Brendan. He has some at the table with him, which has never happened. He considered what he had said this morning 'last minute arrangements to take care of'. What does that mean exactly? He recognises the person sat in his seat, Connor, a lad he used to hang out with before Brendan arrived. They are both young, slight, vulnerable and so became the prison bitches. He can't help but worry, why does Brendan need to speak to him, he can't possible be helping with the plan.
-8-
The water stops flowing from the shower heads, the room full of naked men look around for an indication of what is happening. Brendan and Robin walk into the shower room, both fully dressed, Robin dragging a steel pole along the tiled floor as he walks.
His target doesn't see him coming, still has his back to him. He looks at his partner for some sort of confirmation, Brendan nods and so he lands the first blow to Lincoln's ribs. He can feel the vibration from the contact ricochet back down the surface of his pole and he hears the sound of bones cracking.
When he tortured the three men that had raped his sister it had been systematic. He had planned it for months, dreamed about if for years before that, he knew what he was doing to those men, step by step. He had to take them apart, disintegrate enough of what made them people so that they were begging for it to end. Welcoming death, as his sister had done. He didn't take joy from it, the only thing that would have made him truly happy was reversing time so none of it would have happened. No, it was just something he had to do. Justice for his sister.
Right now, in this moment he feels powerful, he savours every swing of his weapon. Lincoln may not be one of the men who had raped him but the man still made his life hell. It was like sport to him, he was the playground bully looking for new, inventive ways to torture Robin.
"He's had enough." Brendan voice cuts through sound of men cheering and flesh being pounded.
He looks up at Brendan, his hand on his shoulder and indicating for him to stand. He looks down at the crumpled man on the floor below him. He's not entirely sure when he drooped the rod in favour of his fists, climbing onto the man and pummelling his face. But his hands are covered in somebody else's blood and his knuckles ache, the evidence is clear.
When the boy doesn't make a move to stand, Brendan physically lifts him by the arm and gives him a fleeting looks that says 'now is not the time to freak out'.
"You're bleeding." He tells him, pointing at Brendan's lip.
Brendan touches his fingers to his blood stained lips, scoffing at the crimson pigment covering his fingers. He sucks it all up before spitting a mixture of blood and saliva at the quivering man on the floor, at his own feet.
"The fucker head-butted me."
For a moment Robin thought maybe he was the course, got so caught in the moment that he accidentally lashed out. he looks at the man who must be responsible for the small gash on Brendan's lip, recognising him as one of the monsters that terrorised him, a face that still on occasion haunts his dreams.
The boy is confused, and when he looks at Brendan and Connor standing at the front of the crowd he knows he did this for him, because of what that man did to him.
Brendan picks up the steel rod that his cellmate has discarded and uses it to slam down on his own target's hand, crushing almost every bone.
"Fuck I heard that." Robin laughs, still giddy from the adrenaline.
"Don't worry it will heal… eventually." Brendan crouches down, hovering above the man. He whispers, Robin having to strain to hear what is being said. "When you see me in the corridor turn and walk the other way, if I'm in the lunch hall you skip that meal, stay as far as you physically can from me in the yard." He looks up at Robin, who's looking back at him with awe and appreciation. "If you ever look at that kid, or talk about him, if I even sense that you're thinking of him I'm going to come back with a blade and take that filthy hand."
Smiling, Brendan lightly taps the man's face making sure he understands before returning to their original target.
"Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln, look at the mess you've gone and got yourself into. Best get yourself cleaned up, we'll be expecting our stock back within the hour." Brendan takes the man's groan as acknowledgment. "Robin I think we've made ourselves clear?"
"Sure looks that way." Robing replies taking a quick glance of the room.
"Fellas, good talk." Brendan nods, before they both exit the showers.
Anticipation has a habit to set you up, for disappointment: Arctic Monkeys - The View From The Afternoon
