Title: Lock Down

Rating: NC17 for my pottymouth and some situations.

Beta: mel39!! clings but I did fiddle after she checked. :)

Disclaimer: I still don't own The OC, Ryan or Benjamin McKenzie.

Story: AU set in the first season. Due to showing loyalty to his brother Trey, Ryan finds himself sentenced to thirty six months in the harsh Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility. It's all fiction.

Still for the lovely maudgonne but also dedicated to silverweave, elzed and jassylou.

Lock Down

Chapter 10

It had taken Sandy a long time to get the guard to open up but once he'd started it was like the flood gates had opened. Sandy tried not to rush him and let Waddell go at his own pace even though he wanted to just shake him and tell him to get to the point.

"Some of the kids respond to a kind word and rehabilitation but pretty much all are on the path to damnation no matter what we try to teach them. I mean, some of them would sell their own grandmothers if they could get away with it, most have probably been involved in gang killings before they even finished grade school and believe me, firmness is needed if you want to keep control in a place like Starke."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"Trouble is, it's got out of hand now, Mr. Cohen. It's been going on for years but when Bob McCray transferred from North things changed. It's not about keeping order or getting respect anymore. Some of the guards are just plain sadistic simply because they can be and it's gotten worse each year they get away with it. I should have done something sooner but I guess I'm just chicken-shit. Let's face it, this country doesn't have a great tradition when it comes to whistle blowing and I've got a pension to think about."

Waddell took a gulp from his glass and refilled from the bottle of Wild Turkey. Sandy listened in silence as Waddell talked. The man was a bag of nerves but so far all he had was that some of the guards were asserting their authority a little too much and to most of middle America that would be applauded.

Sandy leant forward and urged him to continue.

" I'll keep your name out of this if I can, I promise you, but I need more to go on."

Waddell rolled the glass between his palms silently before nodding.

"They beat the kids for no reason. And I mean beat. They make up allegations of assaults that add on time to sentences just for kicks and although I can't prove it I think some of the inmate deaths we've had are not what they seem to be."

Sandy's head shot up at that.

"Someone is killing these kids?"

Waddell swallowed.

"I think at least four of the NDR's…"

"NDR's?"

"Sorry, non-drug related deaths we've had over the past five years have been suspect. Oh they were put down as suicides and gang hits in the reviews and, as I say, I can't prove it but I think McCray and several of the other guards are involved."

"You've got to give me more than that…" Sandy was getting frustrated. He was also getting scared and was hoping deep down that this guy was a fantasist but his instinct told him he needed to worry.

"Each of the deaths has corresponded with the late night fights."

"Fights?" Sandy frowned.

"McCray, he arranges fights between the inmates and everyone bets on the outcome...big bucks changes hands, I mean big. It's like fight club, no rules and anything goes. I went to one event a few years ago and it's brutal...seriously brutal. The kids were half dead by the end. They encourage them to continue until they drop. They hold it every few months and McCray handpicks all the fighters himself. They have no choice in the matter. It's a case of do it or they'll make your life more of a misery than it already is."

Waddell paused and looked Sandy in the eye.

"And what about the deaths?" Sandy prompted.

"As I said the kids fight until they can't, things get out of hand and no one steps in until it's too late, I think then the kids are just dumped in the shower block and get written up as gang hits. I heard rumors that a couple refused to fight and threatened to tell the authorities, next thing you know we find them in their cell hanging from a knotted blanket."

Waddell drained his glass again with his hand shaking.

"I should have said something sooner…I should have."

Sandy stood up and wiped a hand across his face. He took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since he'd first entered the house.

"What has all this got to do with Ryan?"

"As I said, McCray picks the fighters. He chooses kids who look like they'll be good value in the ring so to speak, kids with nothing to lose, no families, disposable if anything happens to them. Ryan stood out from the start. He looked like he could handle himself. McCray tested him and found he wasn't a quitter. Plus, as I said, he was perfect on paper, he was made for the fight. He was on his own, no one except a deadbeat brother inside for a long stretch…that was until you started to poke around. McCray made Ryan tell you to back off. I heard he threatened to get to the kid's brother if he didn't co-operate. I think he thought you would drop it and that would be that but clearly he was wrong, thank God...he's a good kid...one of the good ones."

"Have they made Ryan fight yet?" Sandy hurridly asked. He looked longingly at the whiskey. At least this explained why Ryan had pulled back from him and had stopped writing to Seth.

Waddell hung his head.

"Tonight, just after the shift change at two a.m."

Dante sat on his bunk and listened to the sounds of the prison. Usually it was quiet at this time of night but tonight there was a buzz about the place, a hum that crept through the walls and into the very fabric of the place.

Word was spreading fast and if Spence and Ronk did their job well then it would most definitely be on.

He still couldn't quite believe Napoleon had granted a meeting, considering their history. He could believe less when the big Rasta, after much persuading, actually agreed to set things up. Maybe it was more a reflection on how much the guards were hated than his negotiating skills but who cared?

The meeting in the shower block had been more than a little fraught, even with Ronk, Wolf, Spence and Silvio backing him up. Napoleon's crew also gathered, ready to kick off if needed. The other inmates sloped away, sensing that something big was going to go down.

Napoleon had stood with a bored expression on his face. It had been hard to read really what was going on behind those eyes but Dante had listed McCray and Pico's many crimes and had said that no matter what they all thought of each other they couldn't let them get away with it any longer. Thankfully Napoleon had agreed.

Dante had been fully aware that things could have gone badly but he also realized that the time had come for action. McCray was fucking insane and with Ryan being tugged again so soon he knew he'd had to act even if it meant confronting Napoleon, the top dog of Starke, and someone as equally crazy as McCray. It went a little way to salving his conscience where Ryan was concerned. Dante just hoped his meeting with the PD hadn't totally screwed things up too much. The lawyer had that spark of zeal in his eyes that said he was a tenacious bastard and Dante knew that he'd dig and dig until he got answers. Normally that would have been a good thing but that was before Ryan dropped the zinger about his brother being used as collateral and the way Ryan talked about his bro, if anything happened to him than Dante would feel the full force of guilt.

Dante lit another cigarette and tapped his feet against the floor. He was so keyed up he had the jitters big time but for the first time in months he felt alive. He checked his watch again. The time was here.

Spence and Ronk were up.

And the shit would hit the fan….big time.

Starke was going under.

James Hopkins smoothed down the front of his uniform and took a deep breath. It was his third week on the job. He'd come fresh from the social work sector with hopes and dreams of changing the system from within. He'd be inspirational; he certainly wouldn't treat the prisoners like some of the guards did. All they needed was someone who understood that rehabilitation was achievable. So what if the other guards treated him with contempt when he spoke of his ideas? Handover was the usual round of sarcastic comments and some bright spark had come up with the nickname of 'Charles Ingalls' for him. That hurt but he'd just given a tight smile and not let them get to him. Treat the prisoners with respect and they'd grow as people and realize that crime didn't pay. He'd show them all.

He checked the bunch of keys at his waist and set off to do his rounds.

He got halfway when a loud banging from the next floor reached him.

A voice shouted for help and he started to run. Other people had also started to yell and holler and it was difficult to work out where the original plea had come from. He stood outside the cell that seemed to be the one that the real cries for help were coming from and slid back the little window. A wild-eyed, panicked face appeared.

"Spence is fucking dying, man…help him, man"

The face moved away and he saw a kid lying on the floor shaking and jerking like he'd been possessed. Froth smeared his face and his head kept connecting with the concrete floor with each lurch.

He knew he should get help. It was against the rules to enter a cell on your own this time of the morning but the kid needed help.

He quickly grabbed his keys and opened the door.

The minute he stepped across the threshold he knew he was in trouble. The kid on the floor stopped jerking and sat up, wiping the back of his hand across his face to remove the white froth. He could smell the mint from the toothpaste from where he stood.

He spun around as the door shut behind him and the kid that'd been shouting for help grinned down at him.

"Oh …big mistake Newbie…. biiiiig fucking mistake."

Ryan breathed heavily through his nose and ducked another blow. His legs felt slugish and his jaw ached like a bitch.

Alverez spun around and flung his left leg out, kicking him just above his knee. He went down hard. McCray yelled at him to 'get the fuck up'. He didn't need the obvious instruction, knowing that the floor was not the place to be even though he had spent most of his time down there so far. He scrambled up onto his feet again just as Alverez spun around again, ready to aim another kick. Ryan grabbed his ankle before the blow connected and with a jerking motion, twisted hard. The small Latino went down this time.

Ryan managed to aim several powerful kicks to his back before Alverez managed to get up, his face as black as thunder. He charged at Ryan full pelt.

They both crashed into several of the guards, knocking them sideways, and slammed into metal washbasins. Momentum made Ryan's head connect with the polished steel that lined the walls. He shook his head several times as they both hung on to each other to keep balance and was thankful that mirrors were outlawed for obvious reasons or he'd be sporting a face full of broken glass.

Ryan focused again and pushed Alverez away from him. He got several punches in and Alverez stumbled backwards. Ryan took the moment and used it to get his breath back. His knuckles were splitting further with each punch and his face felt like it was on fire. His opponent recovered and launched himself again.

More catcalls from the guards, shouts and instructions but Ryan didn't have time to listen as a fist slammed into his face again and again. He didn't have time to react and he thought this time he was going down for real. Alverez seemed to sense the end too and grew complacent, pausing slightly as he brought his fist back. Ryan found some reserves from God knows where and charged. They both landed on the floor but this time Alverez was under him and Ryan took full advantage of his weight to pin the smaller guy to the floor as he punched.

Ryan was in mid rage blackout as he punched with the full on fury that consumed when a klaxon alarm sounded. It was so loud that it stopped him in his tracks and even Alverez stopped struggling.

The guards were silent for a heartbeat before they erupted.

"Fuck."

"What the hell's happening?"

McCray pulled his radio off his belt and hurriedly asked what was going on.

Ryan rolled off Alverez knowing that whatever the fuck was going on, it meant the fight was over and watched as all the color drained from McCray's face as he listened to the disembodied voice coming through the static. McCray eventually pressed mute and was silent as if processing the information before he finally spoke. His voice slow and incredulous.

"We've lost control of A, D and E wings. They are fucking out of their cells and ripping the fucking place up and it won't be long before they make their way down here." McCray started pacing. "The governor is on his way in and all staff are being recalled. We've got to get the fuck out of here before we're lynched."

Ryan looked around at the guards but it was Picco who read his mind.

"What about them?" He nodded towards the floor as he ran a hand through his hair.

McCray didn't bother looking at them as he strode past.

"I don't fucking care...shit...kill them….make it look like the rioters." He reached under his jacket and tossed a revolver towards Picco. "I confiscated it from one of the cells. Just make sure you wipe your prints and leave the gun where it can be found."

Ryan shot a look towards Alverez and the Latino slid a sideways glance at him as he wiped blood from his face. All animosity gone now as it sunk in that things were moving beyond a bare-knuckle fight for profit and petty hate. The sounds of clanging doors and footsteps overhead were moving closer. The guards were already fleeing.

Sandy sat at his desk and made notes on a legal pad. He'd made calls and pulled all the strings he could but still he couldn't get anyone to take any real notice. Several contacts said they'd look into it but Sandy could tell by the tone of their voices that it wouldn't be top on their list of things to do.

People just didn't care.

Illegal fights in a juvenile detention center and talk of mysterious deaths in a place like Starke where conflict and drugs were a way of life sounded fairly normal to an outsider, especially as he had not one shred of evidence. Waddell could sadly be written off as an employee with a grudge but to Sandy it terrified him, especially knowing that a kid like Ryan was being targeted.

It was late or very early depending on how you thought so when the door opened he was surprised to see his wife standing in the doorway.

"Are you coming to bed anytime soon?" she asked softly as she walked over and massaged his shoulders. "You can't do anymore tonight, start afresh in the morning."

He sighed. "What did I do to deserve a wonderful woman like you?"

"I'll just say 'Mail truck'." She smiled enigmatically and he laughed as she dragged him from the chair. He almost ignored it when his cell phone started to buzz but Kirsten paused and picked up the phone, handing it to him.

Waddell's voice sounded slurred as he spoke but it didn't detract any from the chilling words he spoke.

"Cohen...Starke has gone into lock down. The whole place has gone to hell."

TBC