Okay, we're getting towards the end of this baby, well, sort of, but we're going to sort of be moving that way over the next few chapters, so expect high drama coming your way! But first, let's find out what Dean uncovered from Bischoff's office…
Wolfgirl2013, *Sweeps low in a bow of gratitude* Thank you muchly, glad you're still enjoying it as we rattle towards the end. Plenty of action and intrigue coming your way though, so seatbelts on after this one.
SkittlezLvr79, Yep, now Bischoff is very much in the mix as well as the ever lurking Bray. I haven't forgotten about Bray, I promise, he'll be making an appearance very soon. But the bad guy seesaw is going to start swinging in the next few chapters, so the balance may change!
Yippi-kay yay motherfucker, Ooh yay, glad you liked it, got a few more tense chapters coming up too, so hopefully they'll be just as good. Now that the air is cleared between them, its really fun to have Dean being right in the mix of all this crazy! He makes a very good undercover criminal-part-time-cop!
Cheryl24, Haha, can you imagine if that was my big plot twist?! That all of the suicides were in fact suicides and poor innocent Bischoff has been secretly writing an erotic novel this whole time and has nothing to answer for?! I imagine his romance novel would be like the one in 10 Things I Hate About You…i.e. not that good!
Minnie1015, You know, I wrote pretty much this whole story before realizing that the boys would have to break up at some point when (or should I say if) they crack the case. But hopefully when (or should I say if) we get to that point then hopefully I've come up with a reasonable answer…not that anyone necessarily makes it out of this alive (come on, I have to keep the tension up!)
Mandy, Oh no, first of all I'm so sorry for your friend's loss, it's hard having to be strong for someone, but I'm sure you're doing everything you can. Yeah, the good news in this story is that Foley is as terrible at making oatmeal as Dean was! Got more of the Police Shield oneshots coming up as soon as this story is over, so get ready for those!
Raze Olympus, Haha, I also imagine that Mick would lose more strands of hair in the oatmeal than Dean would, which is a pleasant thought I'm going to leave you with…but hey, it's prison, it's not like anyone would be expecting to have gourmet food right?!
Skovko, Haha, I'll just get Dean to say that to Bischoff at some point, short and sweet. But yeah, lets just say that Bischoff may get even more unlikeable before the end! Not that he's the only villain prowling about that they have to deal with. I'm really going hard on my villain count in this story!
Stingerette1975, Yep, Hunter is going to come into play in this story a bit more, especially after this chapter given what they find out. Always good to up the ante by having Dean in the sights of the big bad guy…by which I should say both big bad guys…poor Dean, he really needs to watch his back from now on!
Daisysakura, Oops, sorry not sorry for the added tension! I think you might have to prepare yourself for a bit more coming up too, because there will be lots of nice drama before the end! Not going to say how though because I know you love the suspense really…maybe a little bit?! Come on, you know you do!
Time for some answers then…
Helpless Criminals
Roman turns over another page of the notebook then shakes his broad head while blowing out a breath, his big brown eyes scanning the words laid out in front of him and his heart thumping hard as he tries to process the scrawled text.
"Damn."
Dean blinks up kind of suddenly at the exhale then narrows his blue eyes from the edge of the bed, where he is perched like a parakeet and chewing on a thumb nail as he waits for confirmation,
"So what's the verdict man, s' it any good?"
Roman nods but chooses not to look upwards since his own gaze is still focused on the crinkle-paged book and in particular the blue ball point covering the pages and containing an entire assortment of important stuff.
He clears his throat,
"Uce this – this is perfect."
"Yeah?"
Dean rocks forward but responds with a grin that triggers an actual flourish of dimples and then lights his whole face up as he leans closer to peer in. It seems doubtful that he can make out any of the scribble since the writing is small and he's looking at it upside down, but that still doesn't stop the bright blue eyes from roving like he's searching for something,
"So – like – you can use that shit then?"
Roman blinks and then snorts in amusement but not in the regular humorous sound, since instead it is driven by utter astonishment and with good reason too.
Dean has found them pure gold.
In the margins on each page of the nearly maxed out notebook are the name and numbers of every prisoner in the place and penned in order of their arrival at the facility with their separate dates of birth carefully added underneath and accompanied by a note of the reason for their being there and the nature of their crimes and not incriminating.
Yet.
Roman however is looking beyond them to the scratch marks that take up the rest of the page but have no real bearing on any facts or figures and are instead observations written solely by one hand.
Bischoff.
Roman curls his lip up thinking about him and the glower intensifies as he reads the hateful words. Every line is like an homage to his loathing of the prisoners and very few inmates have escaped the poison pen, with men being branded trouble or stupid and several more of them labelled ominously by the words to be removed.
Dean leans in closer and then reaches a hand out to pull the tiny booklet a little further down before pointing a stub-nailed finger towards some numbers which have been written in red pen by one or two select names.
"What are those?"
Roman knows already,
"The guys that need meds."
"He wrote that shit down?"
Dean gapes at him in what amounts to pure horror but not at the thought of illicit prescription sales, because instead his confusion is centred around the lunacy of a man breaking the law then fucking inking the details out and then leaving them somewhere where they can bring down his empire.
Like in the locked bottom drawer of his private work desk.
Roman nods,
"Drug names, amounts and prices, plus some cell phone numbers."
"His buyers?"
"Best guess."
Dean grunts shortly,
"Is this guy ever a rookie."
He says it with a snort but knows it's pretty baseless even if he feels like it should be the truth since Bischoff hasn't bothered to hide his tracks or tie loose ends up and yet still runs a prison that sends helpless men to their deaths.
Helpless criminals that is –
Like it matters.
Dean leans in closer again and licks his lips but pauses for a second like he is perhaps unsure of asking or likely needs to do it but is braced for whatever he hears next.
"Callihan in there?"
Roman knows it's coming but the tremor to the tones still catches him off guard, because hearing Dean hurt but pretending that he isn't is like having a shank thrust right into his heart and fills him in turn with compassion and frustration that he tries to fight back,
"Yeah babe, he is."
"What does it say?"
He sits back to hear it, like seeing the words in front of him might somehow be too much and his knee begins to bounce up and down on the concrete in time to sudden frantic tapping of his hands. His fingers flutter in a tense little rhythm that he seems not to notice he is doing at all and his tense blue eyes focus entirely in on his brother in total apprehension.
Roman swallows and finds the page,
"Haldol, three micrograms three times daily, wild, outbursts cause cell damage, to be removed."
Damn.
He sucks a breath in then blows it back out again because even to him the assessment is a brutal one and he had never even met the poor guy so for the copper blonde therefore who had both known and loved him it has to be a hammer blow to sit and have to hear.
Dean lowers his head,
"Sami you god damn idiot, I told your ass not to smash up the cell."
"Uce – ,"
"Is that everythin' the fucker wrote about him?"
In an instant he is back to burning fury again and in response the bigger man falters for a second because there is still a line left that he hasn't yet read and he honestly isn't sure how the copper blonde will take it or whether it's even something that he frankly wants to hear.
"No, there's more but – ,"
"Read it."
"Babe – ,"
"Roman."
His name is spoken in both a growl and a plea, like the scruffy haired man isn't sure which one to lead with but is too lost in emotion to make a choice either way as his tapping builds up to such a furious crescendo that it might feasibly end with his fingers snapping loose.
Roman grits his teeth then recites the scribble gently,
"Best if he met with an accident in isolation."
"Fuck."
Dean responds like he has suddenly been gut punched with the breath flowing out of him like he's a deflating balloon and his body rocking forward then curling over on itself slightly as the fast beating finger rhythm suddenly stops and as his whole little world collapses.
Roman puts out a hand in sympathy,
"Uce."
It crosses the space between them, then cards through the tangle before stopping at the nape and holding on tight to the hair like he is trying to anchor his cellmate to real life and the fact that a person that loves him is there. Dean sucks in a wet sounding gulp in response to it and his whole body shakes like he's been caught in the snow but the breakdown only lasts for a couple of seconds before he paws his eyes crossly then coughs a harsh sentence out,
"So he did it then – like – no two fuckin' ways around it?"
"He did it babe."
Dean nods and then pulls himself up straight like the whole ragdoll slump thing isn't a good look on him and which dislodges the bigger man's hand from his nape. His face when he blinks up is red and lightly blotchy but his blue eyes are positively burning with flames.
"What now, I mean, we're bringin' this asshole down right?"
Roman nods,
"Hell yeah we're bringing him down."
Dean seems to be reassured by the answer but his brain is still working on pulsating rage since he is looking at point on the whitewashed wall behind him but not seeing anything beyond the visions in his head, which quite evidently are not happy images or possibly are,
"Fuckin' thumb tacks in his eyes, nice an' slow so I can hear him screamin'."
"Easy, I'm still a detective over here."
But in spite of the sentiments and the copper blonde's plotting which has taken on a noticeably horror movie theme, the broader man still shakes his big head in fondness and gives the curly tangles a final loving sweep.
Dean looks up at the touch,
"He saw me."
"Bischoff?"
"Caught me fuckin' hangin' over his desk."
Roman nods having figured as much already since when he had returned from the stock cupboard earlier with the nervous little greenhorn guard in tow, it had been to the sight of his cellmate in the office with a strangely haunted sort of look on his face.
Roman frowns as he suddenly remembers it,
"What happened?"
"Nothin' much except him threatenin' me I guess."
"Threatening you how?"
Dean waves a hand loosely and then reaches across to claim back the book, which he then sets about hiding underneath his mattress in a flap where the well-used material has come apart and with such total ease that it makes the big man wonder what exactly the copper blonde has stashed away in there before.
Dean snorts,
"He wasn't happy 'bout me bein' in his office, mentioned solitary an' we know what that shit means."
Roman grunts –
Damn it.
Dean being on the radar is by no means what he had wanted from the make or break scheme and it fills himself with a burst of sudden raw purpose that blisters through his bones.
"We'll get his ass first."
He means it too, with every fibre of his being and makes him tense his fists up as he sets his squared jaw and makes a promise to himself and to his teammate not to mention all the victims.
Eric Bischoff has had his day.
Next chapter, we bump into our enemy...but which one is it?