DISCLAIMER: I do not and will not own Resident Evil, for it is copywrited
to Capcom and no one else. I do own the characters in this story, though,
so I'd appreciate it if you left them right where they are, thank you.
Writer's Note: Now. This is my first fanfic, and I don't expect a lot of leniency, but don't be -too- harsh. First things first, though. I do not, repeat, do not deserve all the credit for this, nor do I want to take it all. My good friend Ben had the idea to make this story and he started it. He used me to check and see if what he had started with worked out all right. I made some corrections which, I suppose, astounded him in a sense and after that, we became partners. Three or four days later, he decided that he wasn't in the right frame of mind to help finish because of life, which we all know has it out for us since the minute we're born, and then let me finish it. I also must thank my other good friend, you know who you are, for helping me with the area of guns, since you all will now know- I have gun illiteracy. So, thank you to these friends and thank you to you, dear readers, for choosing said story to read. It means very much to me. Thank you again.
Prologue:
"I sentence you to five years in the Raccoon City Jail, for the murder of seven citizens, illegal gun possession, and trying to kill several officers when resisting arrest," a law officer recited from a slip of official looking paper as they took the newly sentenced convict Blake Vincent, a former Marine that retired after five years of service, to his new residence- a cold, damp and dim jail cell underneath the RPD.
The thirty-five year old was and still is wearing a black muscle shirt, black jeans, and black combat boots. He has a big tattoo of a flaming skull on his upper right arm's side, with twin snakes coming from each eye socket. His hair, jet black in color and similar in shade to his eyebrows, is spiked with styling gel. His eyes are a dark brown, and almost emotionless. He blabbered on about how recently, the dead bodies of cannibal-cultists that attacked him rose up and tried to bite him. He was merely acting in self-defense. The cops found him shooting and burning corpses, with an insane look in his eyes. He then decided to just shut up. Nobody was listening- Not like they would.
The halls grew darker, colder as the officers practically dragged the obviously reluctant Blake farther along. He grimaced visibly as he took a good look around him, and then scowled angrily. 'If only they'd believe me, damn pigs,' he thinks to himself. 'It's no use. All these fucks're so corrupted.' Lost in his short reverie, he doesn't notice when the officers stop in front of his cell and undo his cuffs. He flies forward and nearly face plants as one officer gives him an unexpected shove into the jail cell and slams the door shut.
Blake whirls around, a flurry of anger, and shakes his fist at them, yelling a short streak of obscenities. All they did was laugh and walk away, joking and making fun of him as they did. As the sound of their footsteps died on the concrete flooring, Blake curses again, mostly to himself, and walks over to a cot stuck hap-hazardously in the corner of the cell. He heaves a deep sigh and sits down, the cot squeaking in protest from his weight.
Chapter One
He merely grunts and lays down, crossing his ankles and lacing his fingers behind his head. A small shuffling sound is suddenly heard nearby and Blake lifts his head just enough to see into the hall. A sharp clanging sounds and a gruff voice rises above it. "So, boy, what's yer name? What was you convicted fer?" an old looking man, obviously the janitor for the whole station, says, sticking his head around and peering into Blake's small cell. "The hell do you want, old man? Can't you see I'm enjoying a vacation?" he replies in a very sarcastic way.
The old janitor merely laughs, if it could be called such. It was more like a wheezing chuckle of sorts. "T'ain't no vacation fer you, boy. Vacations can be abandoned whenever, you's stuck here good," he says, and cackles strangely. Blake raises a brow and curls his lip unpleasantly. "You're mad, old man. Go away before I call for the damn pigs to get you outta here. I'd like to live out my sentence in peace without crazed weirdo's cackling and saying strange things to me," he says, a little creeped out by the guy.
"Suit yerself," the janitor says and starts away. "Oh!" he says, and turns again. "You's all by yer lonesome fer a couple a hours there, boy. All the other pris'ners is gettin' their nighttime grub. Looks like you's is gonna starve," he adds, grinning wide to show the yellowed and decayed looking teeth, many of them missing and showing the inflamed-looking gums. He finally turns and leaves- his walking merely a shuffle. Another loud clang sounds and the janitor laughs his creepy laugh once again, the sound reverberating and remaining long after his departure.
Blake stares at the spot where the old man had been standing and just gapes stupidly. Even though he was long gone, Blake calls out after the janitor. "It's not like I was hungry anyway!" he yells, then adds "Crazy old man." in a soft mumble. He lies back on the cot again and stares blankly at the ceiling, his recent memories of what happened resurfacing.
Meanwhile, as Blake is safe and sound wallowing in some self-pity, above ground the station is receiving call after strange call. Officers on duty and patrolling the city radio back and report about odd occurrences. A few return with convicts, their stories slightly resembling our hero's.
Returning to Blake- His memories come to a close when he hears footsteps, more than one set. He sits up quickly and watches the hall. The already familiar clanging greets his attention and he realizes it must be a separate gate closing the jail area off from the rest of the station. Two officers slowly walk by, carrying someone between them. Obviously the person was unconscious, but Blake couldn't tell if it was male or female. He stands up and walks up to the iron-barred door. "Who's that? He asks, intrigued.
"Shut your mouth, Vincent. She ain't here to see you or anythin'. She's a murderer just like you," one officer replies in a haughty tone. "You might as well shove it, pig. All you pigs are the same. Thinking you're above the law just 'cause you 'enforce' it," he spouts as they lower the person to the bed and move away, revealing a woman.
They leave the cell and lock it then turn to leave again when he starts yelling at them. "What did you do to her, anyway? You hit her with your pig sticks, huh? Knocked her senseless," he accuses, narrowing his dark eyes. He receives his answer in the form of the officer's truncheon connecting smartly with the bars of Blake's cell. "I said," he starts, getting a bit cocky. "Shut your mouth, boy." He sneers at Blake and the two leave quickly, slamming the gate to the jail quarter.
Scowling, Blake turns his gaze to the woman in the cell across from his. He can't see much because she's facing the wall, but makes out her hair color, which is straight and black, cut medium length. Her clothes are dark, but it's impossible to make out the colors or what kind they are. He shakes his head and goes back to his cot, laying down and resuming his previous state.
An hour or so later a few officers throw open the cell block gate, waking Blake, who had fallen asleep. He sits up quickly, glancing across to the woman, who hadn't stirred once since the pigs had deposited her there. The officers walk down the hall and unlock the cells he and the woman were in. One walks in and cuffs Blake, who asks what's going on and gets a reply stating they were going to the recreation area with the other prisoners. As Blake is dragged out, he hears the other officer shaking the woman and telling her to get up.
The officer shoves Blake into the recreation area after unlocking his cuffs, and then turns to help his partner carry the dazed woman over to a table placed in the corner. Glaring at the officers, he walks along to his own table and sits. He looks around and notices some other prisoners, and then turns back to look at the woman while the officers retreat, locking the door behind them.
The prisoners congregate in a group in the recreation area and start chatting. After a moment, they turn to Blake, who's still watching the woman without her knowing. "Mmmm, fresh fish, boys," one says, obviously the leader. The others leer at Blake, who then turns and looks at them. He raises a brow in question and scoots away a few inches. The second prisoner, somewhat muscled but a lot smaller than the first, steps forward. "He's got a purdy mouth," he comments with a short laugh afterward. A third hangs in back behind the other two. He was what could be called the whipping boy, because he was like a tooth pick and at least a foot shorter than the second prisoner. He eyes Blake and smiles, liking what he saw, obviously.
Blake clears his throat and stands up, staring the three down. "Look," he starts, quite annoyed and thoroughly disgusted. "If you want have a nice conversation with the floor, go ahead and try whatever it is you're thinking of. If not, I suggest you turn around and do whatever it is you do in the bathroom so I don't have to see," he says, smirking a little. This angers the first prisoner, who then advances and throws a punch. The prisoner is by far bigger and stronger than Blake, but much slower, therefore giving Blake his advantage. He moves quickly to the side, sticking out his foot and making the big lug trip. He laughs and turns to him.
"Can't touch this," he says, smirking. While the other prisoners watch, the Conan poseur rises and turns to face Blake again. His eyes glint with fury and he rushes at Blake, throwing another punch. Blake catches this one with his own hand and applies pressure to it. The prisoner's eyes bulge with surprise and he tries to remove his fist from Blake's grip. Blake just applies more pressure, making the guy yelp when a cracking sound is heard.
The woman, having heard the commotion, turns and watches from a safe distance. By this time, Blake has taken hold of Conan Jr.'s elbow. He crouches slightly and then pushes up hard, sending the guy flying onto a table, nearly breaking it down the middle. With Macho Man subdued, the second prisoner pulls out a switchblade and slices out at him. Blake whirls around to catch the blade just before it is able to mar his tattoo. "Now you've gone and pissed me off," he says, quite angered by the guy's attempt. He squeezes the guy's hand, breaking a few bones, and sends his knee into his gut a few times.
The prisoner is royally fucked over by now and the knife falls to the ground. Letting go of his hand, Blake grins. The prisoner starts to fall forward. Blake catches him and sets him right again. "Now, now, I'm not finished with you," he remarks. The prisoner groans softly just as Blake grabs a handful of the guy's greasy hair, and then gives him a few good knees to his stomach. The guy is now spitting up blood and badly bruised. "You need to learn the meaning of a shower, man," he says while getting the guy to stand up just right. Blake looks at him, and then lightly slaps him with the back of his hand, sending the guy keeling over. He falls on his side and spits out a lot of blood and a few of his teeth.
The third guy looks down at the second. "You've been BITCHED, mother fucker!" he says, then cackles, "Time for you to walk the streets, man." Blake glares his way and the scrawny guy shuts his mouth and edges away, his eyes showing how scared he was of the guy. He turns to the girl, who merely smirks at him and turns away and stares at a wall. "Access denied, my brother," someone says.
Blake turns, ready for another fight, but is confronted with a black man of about the same stature as his own. The guy smirks and motions his head to the two prisoners who were now slowly, gingerly getting back up and retreating to a corner of the room. "Noticed you taught those guys a lesson they deserved. Liked your moves, too," the guy replies, grinning. Blake lowers his arms to his side and nods. "Yeah." The guy looks past him to her. "Like her, do ya?" he says, nodding in her direction. Blake looks over at her. "Maybe, so what?" he says, on the defensive. "Nothin' man," he replies, laughing. "Either you're out of her league, or you just gonna have to warm up to her some."
He grins, and then offers his hand. "My name's Murphy. Murphy O'Connor," he says. Blake shakes his hand. "Blake Vincent," he replies, glancing back at the woman across the room for a moment. "Nice t'meet you, man. It's great to have a straight person in here besides myself. Why were you convicted, anyway?" he asks suddenly. "Murder..." Murphy nods. "Breaking and entering for me. Been here five months, those three been here years already," he says, motioning to the others again.
Suddenly, a small army of officers charged in, brandishing handcuffs. "Time to go back to your cells, boys," they call, and start cuffing them all. Blake and the others willingly let themselves be cuffed, but when he turns his head to look at the woman, he sees her struggling. "Get the fuck off me," she says, pulling away. "Let me go, damn it!" Blake narrows his eyes to slits as he sees them rough handling her. She struggles even more, starting to yell at them. Blake is dragged away toward the cell block, but turns his head just as an officer pulls out a tazer and shocks her good, rendering her unconscious.
Blake couldn't stand the fact that a few pigs had to shock a woman into submission. She was definitely a fighter. Pity he didn't know her name. But then something caught Blake's attention. It was low gunfire, but it was hearable. He blinked, and focused a little. Concentrating his thought to just listening, he heard more gunfire, odd-like moans he recognized, and blood curdling screams like people were being ripped apart. And it seemed that everyone else had heard it too. The commotion had stirred everyone, even the weird, almost completely silent woman. Blake had a gut feeling something was going down that he wouldn't like..
Upstairs, the pigs were getting their asses handed to them. The 'zombies' were in too great of number. Pig after pig fell, taking down maybe one or two with them. Gunfire echoed like crazy, smoke filled the main hall and area just above the prison cells. Then loud screeches sounded off, followed by screams cut short, as if the victim was killed instantly. Basically.the pigs were now freshly ripped up pork chops with some sides of bacon.
Blake jumps up from his cot and walks quickly to his cell door. He grabs the bars and looks into the hall, scanning the area. Movement catches his eye and he snaps his head towards it, finding that the woman had woken up even after being tazered. She looks at him and he finally gets a good look at her. He had been right about her hair. It was blacker than black, but it had streaks of deep crimson running through it. Her skin was olive colored and slightly tanned. His eyes traveled her form, which was clad in black skater style cargos, black and gray sneakers and a charcoal colored hoodie. He then looked to her face, noting that is was quite attractive, but what caught his attention the most and actually held it was her eyes. They were a vibrant, lively ice blue, entrancing in a way no thing could be.
Blake blinks, and then looks away quickly, wiping his forehead, which had broke into a slight sweat. He continues to look every which way down the hall, careful not to look back at the woman for fear of staring stupidly. The woman clears her throat, forcing him to look back to her. "What's going on?" she asks, her first words that weren't yelled or screamed and towards him. He shrugs and starts looking around again. "I couldn't tell ya, but those pigs sure must be having a helluva time," he replies, smirking. "I'm sure they are," she tells him and sighs.
He starts to turn back to her, but suddenly they hear running and panting. Suddenly, an officer screams, jolting Blake, the woman, and a lot of the other prisoners. Clanging sounds as something heavy connects with the cell block gate. A shriek, then another scream. A low, guttural growl emits from something not of this world and the officer screams with pain, flailing against the gate. He hits something, which suddenly releases all the cell doors. Something slumps to the ground and a clicking sound fades away down the hall.
Blake looks to the woman, who gives him a quizzical look, and they both push open their doors and step into the cell block hall way. The others prisoners have done the same, and Murphy comes up next to Blake. "What's up Vincent? Something strange goin' down for sure, man," he says, glancing down the hall at the officer and at the pool of blood surrounding him. "Got me," Blake says before turning to the woman. "What's your name?" She looks at him, then Murphy. "Gwen," she mutters and then she takes off down the hall to examine the officer with the other prisoners. Murphy laughs. "Tough luck, my man; you got a ways to go," he says with a grin. "Ah, shove it O'Connor," Blake replies before starting after Gwen.
Murphy simply shakes his head and follows Blake, laughing softly. Blake reaches the others, and they all look to him. He smirks. "Why, if it isn't Macho Man, Grease Monkey and Whipping Boy," he says with a grin, looking to each as he said their new-found nick names. All three look at him fearfully, look to each other, and back away. Gwen looks up at him with a wry smile, shakes her head and looks at the corpse. Both Blake and Murphy look down at the deceased officer. Their eyes bulge with shock when they set their gazes on the officer's slashed face and sliced torso. They could only tell who it was by the name plate on the right breast of the man's uniform. 'Lt. Green' it states proudly, glimmering in the dim light of the hall way.
"Poor mother fucker," Murphy says softly, shaking his head from side to side sadly. "What could've done this?" Gwen tilts her head, reading the name plate for herself. "Green." she mutters. "Green." Her eyes widen and she jumps up, glaring down at the remnants of the officer. "He deserved it," she says angrily, her eyes flashing, and storms off down the hall in the opposite direction. Blake looks to Murphy, his brows knit. Murphy shrugs, then points after her, signaling he should try to talk to her. Blake groans, knowing what Murphy was thinking, and starts after Gwen. Despite the way he lived, he felt a fast friendship growing between him and Murphy and a deep interest kindling within him when it came to the woman.
"Hey! Lady.Gwen! Hey wait up, woman," he calls, about ten feet or so away. She glances back, but speeds up rather than heed Blake's call. "I'll never understand women," he mutters, then jogs up to Gwen, slowly down to keep stride when he reaches her. He looks at her, and then steps in front of her to block her path. "Hey." he says softly. "What's up? Why'd you say that guy deserved it?" he asks. Gwen, being furious that he had the gall to stop her, merely glares up at him, "Get out of my way."
She crosses her arms and sighs, looking at the floor when he doesn't move. "Why do you care, anyway?" she asks, narrowing her eyes and glaring up at him again. He shrugs and simply replies, "I just do, ok?" He sticks his hands into his jean pockets and tilts his head back and to the side, looking down at her. "You gonna tell me, or should I beg?"
Her shoulders slump slightly and she purses her lips. "Green," she starts after a moment, "was one of the guys that arrested me." Blake widens his eyes. "Oh," he says, understanding. "They didn't.hit you with their pig sticks, did they?" he asks. Gwen doesn't reply and he guesses they did. "I knew it. Hey, don't worry about it," he says, trying to brighten her up. "He's gone now." Blake grins slightly, causing Gwen to give a soft smile. "Now, I don't have a clue what's going on, but I don't think we should be split up. No telling what'll happen." Gwen nods slowly and they start back to the others, Murphy looking to Blake in anticipation. Blake nods, showing Murphy all was well, and Murphy nods back.
"Ok, ladies. I don't know what's going on, most likely none of us do, but I think it's safe to say that we should stick together," Murphy starts, the others nodding in agreement. "One thing, though. No advances, toward men or women," he continues, glaring at Macho Man, and then giving Blake a look. "We don't need no fighting at this point in time, got it Macho? Greasy boy? Vincent?" Macho Man merely grunts and looks away, crossing his heavily muscled arms across his chest. Blake sneers at the two, then looks away, glancing quickly at Gwen before moving to a wall and leaning against it. "Right then- Now for the plan."
Writer's Note: Now. This is my first fanfic, and I don't expect a lot of leniency, but don't be -too- harsh. First things first, though. I do not, repeat, do not deserve all the credit for this, nor do I want to take it all. My good friend Ben had the idea to make this story and he started it. He used me to check and see if what he had started with worked out all right. I made some corrections which, I suppose, astounded him in a sense and after that, we became partners. Three or four days later, he decided that he wasn't in the right frame of mind to help finish because of life, which we all know has it out for us since the minute we're born, and then let me finish it. I also must thank my other good friend, you know who you are, for helping me with the area of guns, since you all will now know- I have gun illiteracy. So, thank you to these friends and thank you to you, dear readers, for choosing said story to read. It means very much to me. Thank you again.
Prologue:
"I sentence you to five years in the Raccoon City Jail, for the murder of seven citizens, illegal gun possession, and trying to kill several officers when resisting arrest," a law officer recited from a slip of official looking paper as they took the newly sentenced convict Blake Vincent, a former Marine that retired after five years of service, to his new residence- a cold, damp and dim jail cell underneath the RPD.
The thirty-five year old was and still is wearing a black muscle shirt, black jeans, and black combat boots. He has a big tattoo of a flaming skull on his upper right arm's side, with twin snakes coming from each eye socket. His hair, jet black in color and similar in shade to his eyebrows, is spiked with styling gel. His eyes are a dark brown, and almost emotionless. He blabbered on about how recently, the dead bodies of cannibal-cultists that attacked him rose up and tried to bite him. He was merely acting in self-defense. The cops found him shooting and burning corpses, with an insane look in his eyes. He then decided to just shut up. Nobody was listening- Not like they would.
The halls grew darker, colder as the officers practically dragged the obviously reluctant Blake farther along. He grimaced visibly as he took a good look around him, and then scowled angrily. 'If only they'd believe me, damn pigs,' he thinks to himself. 'It's no use. All these fucks're so corrupted.' Lost in his short reverie, he doesn't notice when the officers stop in front of his cell and undo his cuffs. He flies forward and nearly face plants as one officer gives him an unexpected shove into the jail cell and slams the door shut.
Blake whirls around, a flurry of anger, and shakes his fist at them, yelling a short streak of obscenities. All they did was laugh and walk away, joking and making fun of him as they did. As the sound of their footsteps died on the concrete flooring, Blake curses again, mostly to himself, and walks over to a cot stuck hap-hazardously in the corner of the cell. He heaves a deep sigh and sits down, the cot squeaking in protest from his weight.
Chapter One
He merely grunts and lays down, crossing his ankles and lacing his fingers behind his head. A small shuffling sound is suddenly heard nearby and Blake lifts his head just enough to see into the hall. A sharp clanging sounds and a gruff voice rises above it. "So, boy, what's yer name? What was you convicted fer?" an old looking man, obviously the janitor for the whole station, says, sticking his head around and peering into Blake's small cell. "The hell do you want, old man? Can't you see I'm enjoying a vacation?" he replies in a very sarcastic way.
The old janitor merely laughs, if it could be called such. It was more like a wheezing chuckle of sorts. "T'ain't no vacation fer you, boy. Vacations can be abandoned whenever, you's stuck here good," he says, and cackles strangely. Blake raises a brow and curls his lip unpleasantly. "You're mad, old man. Go away before I call for the damn pigs to get you outta here. I'd like to live out my sentence in peace without crazed weirdo's cackling and saying strange things to me," he says, a little creeped out by the guy.
"Suit yerself," the janitor says and starts away. "Oh!" he says, and turns again. "You's all by yer lonesome fer a couple a hours there, boy. All the other pris'ners is gettin' their nighttime grub. Looks like you's is gonna starve," he adds, grinning wide to show the yellowed and decayed looking teeth, many of them missing and showing the inflamed-looking gums. He finally turns and leaves- his walking merely a shuffle. Another loud clang sounds and the janitor laughs his creepy laugh once again, the sound reverberating and remaining long after his departure.
Blake stares at the spot where the old man had been standing and just gapes stupidly. Even though he was long gone, Blake calls out after the janitor. "It's not like I was hungry anyway!" he yells, then adds "Crazy old man." in a soft mumble. He lies back on the cot again and stares blankly at the ceiling, his recent memories of what happened resurfacing.
Meanwhile, as Blake is safe and sound wallowing in some self-pity, above ground the station is receiving call after strange call. Officers on duty and patrolling the city radio back and report about odd occurrences. A few return with convicts, their stories slightly resembling our hero's.
Returning to Blake- His memories come to a close when he hears footsteps, more than one set. He sits up quickly and watches the hall. The already familiar clanging greets his attention and he realizes it must be a separate gate closing the jail area off from the rest of the station. Two officers slowly walk by, carrying someone between them. Obviously the person was unconscious, but Blake couldn't tell if it was male or female. He stands up and walks up to the iron-barred door. "Who's that? He asks, intrigued.
"Shut your mouth, Vincent. She ain't here to see you or anythin'. She's a murderer just like you," one officer replies in a haughty tone. "You might as well shove it, pig. All you pigs are the same. Thinking you're above the law just 'cause you 'enforce' it," he spouts as they lower the person to the bed and move away, revealing a woman.
They leave the cell and lock it then turn to leave again when he starts yelling at them. "What did you do to her, anyway? You hit her with your pig sticks, huh? Knocked her senseless," he accuses, narrowing his dark eyes. He receives his answer in the form of the officer's truncheon connecting smartly with the bars of Blake's cell. "I said," he starts, getting a bit cocky. "Shut your mouth, boy." He sneers at Blake and the two leave quickly, slamming the gate to the jail quarter.
Scowling, Blake turns his gaze to the woman in the cell across from his. He can't see much because she's facing the wall, but makes out her hair color, which is straight and black, cut medium length. Her clothes are dark, but it's impossible to make out the colors or what kind they are. He shakes his head and goes back to his cot, laying down and resuming his previous state.
An hour or so later a few officers throw open the cell block gate, waking Blake, who had fallen asleep. He sits up quickly, glancing across to the woman, who hadn't stirred once since the pigs had deposited her there. The officers walk down the hall and unlock the cells he and the woman were in. One walks in and cuffs Blake, who asks what's going on and gets a reply stating they were going to the recreation area with the other prisoners. As Blake is dragged out, he hears the other officer shaking the woman and telling her to get up.
The officer shoves Blake into the recreation area after unlocking his cuffs, and then turns to help his partner carry the dazed woman over to a table placed in the corner. Glaring at the officers, he walks along to his own table and sits. He looks around and notices some other prisoners, and then turns back to look at the woman while the officers retreat, locking the door behind them.
The prisoners congregate in a group in the recreation area and start chatting. After a moment, they turn to Blake, who's still watching the woman without her knowing. "Mmmm, fresh fish, boys," one says, obviously the leader. The others leer at Blake, who then turns and looks at them. He raises a brow in question and scoots away a few inches. The second prisoner, somewhat muscled but a lot smaller than the first, steps forward. "He's got a purdy mouth," he comments with a short laugh afterward. A third hangs in back behind the other two. He was what could be called the whipping boy, because he was like a tooth pick and at least a foot shorter than the second prisoner. He eyes Blake and smiles, liking what he saw, obviously.
Blake clears his throat and stands up, staring the three down. "Look," he starts, quite annoyed and thoroughly disgusted. "If you want have a nice conversation with the floor, go ahead and try whatever it is you're thinking of. If not, I suggest you turn around and do whatever it is you do in the bathroom so I don't have to see," he says, smirking a little. This angers the first prisoner, who then advances and throws a punch. The prisoner is by far bigger and stronger than Blake, but much slower, therefore giving Blake his advantage. He moves quickly to the side, sticking out his foot and making the big lug trip. He laughs and turns to him.
"Can't touch this," he says, smirking. While the other prisoners watch, the Conan poseur rises and turns to face Blake again. His eyes glint with fury and he rushes at Blake, throwing another punch. Blake catches this one with his own hand and applies pressure to it. The prisoner's eyes bulge with surprise and he tries to remove his fist from Blake's grip. Blake just applies more pressure, making the guy yelp when a cracking sound is heard.
The woman, having heard the commotion, turns and watches from a safe distance. By this time, Blake has taken hold of Conan Jr.'s elbow. He crouches slightly and then pushes up hard, sending the guy flying onto a table, nearly breaking it down the middle. With Macho Man subdued, the second prisoner pulls out a switchblade and slices out at him. Blake whirls around to catch the blade just before it is able to mar his tattoo. "Now you've gone and pissed me off," he says, quite angered by the guy's attempt. He squeezes the guy's hand, breaking a few bones, and sends his knee into his gut a few times.
The prisoner is royally fucked over by now and the knife falls to the ground. Letting go of his hand, Blake grins. The prisoner starts to fall forward. Blake catches him and sets him right again. "Now, now, I'm not finished with you," he remarks. The prisoner groans softly just as Blake grabs a handful of the guy's greasy hair, and then gives him a few good knees to his stomach. The guy is now spitting up blood and badly bruised. "You need to learn the meaning of a shower, man," he says while getting the guy to stand up just right. Blake looks at him, and then lightly slaps him with the back of his hand, sending the guy keeling over. He falls on his side and spits out a lot of blood and a few of his teeth.
The third guy looks down at the second. "You've been BITCHED, mother fucker!" he says, then cackles, "Time for you to walk the streets, man." Blake glares his way and the scrawny guy shuts his mouth and edges away, his eyes showing how scared he was of the guy. He turns to the girl, who merely smirks at him and turns away and stares at a wall. "Access denied, my brother," someone says.
Blake turns, ready for another fight, but is confronted with a black man of about the same stature as his own. The guy smirks and motions his head to the two prisoners who were now slowly, gingerly getting back up and retreating to a corner of the room. "Noticed you taught those guys a lesson they deserved. Liked your moves, too," the guy replies, grinning. Blake lowers his arms to his side and nods. "Yeah." The guy looks past him to her. "Like her, do ya?" he says, nodding in her direction. Blake looks over at her. "Maybe, so what?" he says, on the defensive. "Nothin' man," he replies, laughing. "Either you're out of her league, or you just gonna have to warm up to her some."
He grins, and then offers his hand. "My name's Murphy. Murphy O'Connor," he says. Blake shakes his hand. "Blake Vincent," he replies, glancing back at the woman across the room for a moment. "Nice t'meet you, man. It's great to have a straight person in here besides myself. Why were you convicted, anyway?" he asks suddenly. "Murder..." Murphy nods. "Breaking and entering for me. Been here five months, those three been here years already," he says, motioning to the others again.
Suddenly, a small army of officers charged in, brandishing handcuffs. "Time to go back to your cells, boys," they call, and start cuffing them all. Blake and the others willingly let themselves be cuffed, but when he turns his head to look at the woman, he sees her struggling. "Get the fuck off me," she says, pulling away. "Let me go, damn it!" Blake narrows his eyes to slits as he sees them rough handling her. She struggles even more, starting to yell at them. Blake is dragged away toward the cell block, but turns his head just as an officer pulls out a tazer and shocks her good, rendering her unconscious.
Blake couldn't stand the fact that a few pigs had to shock a woman into submission. She was definitely a fighter. Pity he didn't know her name. But then something caught Blake's attention. It was low gunfire, but it was hearable. He blinked, and focused a little. Concentrating his thought to just listening, he heard more gunfire, odd-like moans he recognized, and blood curdling screams like people were being ripped apart. And it seemed that everyone else had heard it too. The commotion had stirred everyone, even the weird, almost completely silent woman. Blake had a gut feeling something was going down that he wouldn't like..
Upstairs, the pigs were getting their asses handed to them. The 'zombies' were in too great of number. Pig after pig fell, taking down maybe one or two with them. Gunfire echoed like crazy, smoke filled the main hall and area just above the prison cells. Then loud screeches sounded off, followed by screams cut short, as if the victim was killed instantly. Basically.the pigs were now freshly ripped up pork chops with some sides of bacon.
Blake jumps up from his cot and walks quickly to his cell door. He grabs the bars and looks into the hall, scanning the area. Movement catches his eye and he snaps his head towards it, finding that the woman had woken up even after being tazered. She looks at him and he finally gets a good look at her. He had been right about her hair. It was blacker than black, but it had streaks of deep crimson running through it. Her skin was olive colored and slightly tanned. His eyes traveled her form, which was clad in black skater style cargos, black and gray sneakers and a charcoal colored hoodie. He then looked to her face, noting that is was quite attractive, but what caught his attention the most and actually held it was her eyes. They were a vibrant, lively ice blue, entrancing in a way no thing could be.
Blake blinks, and then looks away quickly, wiping his forehead, which had broke into a slight sweat. He continues to look every which way down the hall, careful not to look back at the woman for fear of staring stupidly. The woman clears her throat, forcing him to look back to her. "What's going on?" she asks, her first words that weren't yelled or screamed and towards him. He shrugs and starts looking around again. "I couldn't tell ya, but those pigs sure must be having a helluva time," he replies, smirking. "I'm sure they are," she tells him and sighs.
He starts to turn back to her, but suddenly they hear running and panting. Suddenly, an officer screams, jolting Blake, the woman, and a lot of the other prisoners. Clanging sounds as something heavy connects with the cell block gate. A shriek, then another scream. A low, guttural growl emits from something not of this world and the officer screams with pain, flailing against the gate. He hits something, which suddenly releases all the cell doors. Something slumps to the ground and a clicking sound fades away down the hall.
Blake looks to the woman, who gives him a quizzical look, and they both push open their doors and step into the cell block hall way. The others prisoners have done the same, and Murphy comes up next to Blake. "What's up Vincent? Something strange goin' down for sure, man," he says, glancing down the hall at the officer and at the pool of blood surrounding him. "Got me," Blake says before turning to the woman. "What's your name?" She looks at him, then Murphy. "Gwen," she mutters and then she takes off down the hall to examine the officer with the other prisoners. Murphy laughs. "Tough luck, my man; you got a ways to go," he says with a grin. "Ah, shove it O'Connor," Blake replies before starting after Gwen.
Murphy simply shakes his head and follows Blake, laughing softly. Blake reaches the others, and they all look to him. He smirks. "Why, if it isn't Macho Man, Grease Monkey and Whipping Boy," he says with a grin, looking to each as he said their new-found nick names. All three look at him fearfully, look to each other, and back away. Gwen looks up at him with a wry smile, shakes her head and looks at the corpse. Both Blake and Murphy look down at the deceased officer. Their eyes bulge with shock when they set their gazes on the officer's slashed face and sliced torso. They could only tell who it was by the name plate on the right breast of the man's uniform. 'Lt. Green' it states proudly, glimmering in the dim light of the hall way.
"Poor mother fucker," Murphy says softly, shaking his head from side to side sadly. "What could've done this?" Gwen tilts her head, reading the name plate for herself. "Green." she mutters. "Green." Her eyes widen and she jumps up, glaring down at the remnants of the officer. "He deserved it," she says angrily, her eyes flashing, and storms off down the hall in the opposite direction. Blake looks to Murphy, his brows knit. Murphy shrugs, then points after her, signaling he should try to talk to her. Blake groans, knowing what Murphy was thinking, and starts after Gwen. Despite the way he lived, he felt a fast friendship growing between him and Murphy and a deep interest kindling within him when it came to the woman.
"Hey! Lady.Gwen! Hey wait up, woman," he calls, about ten feet or so away. She glances back, but speeds up rather than heed Blake's call. "I'll never understand women," he mutters, then jogs up to Gwen, slowly down to keep stride when he reaches her. He looks at her, and then steps in front of her to block her path. "Hey." he says softly. "What's up? Why'd you say that guy deserved it?" he asks. Gwen, being furious that he had the gall to stop her, merely glares up at him, "Get out of my way."
She crosses her arms and sighs, looking at the floor when he doesn't move. "Why do you care, anyway?" she asks, narrowing her eyes and glaring up at him again. He shrugs and simply replies, "I just do, ok?" He sticks his hands into his jean pockets and tilts his head back and to the side, looking down at her. "You gonna tell me, or should I beg?"
Her shoulders slump slightly and she purses her lips. "Green," she starts after a moment, "was one of the guys that arrested me." Blake widens his eyes. "Oh," he says, understanding. "They didn't.hit you with their pig sticks, did they?" he asks. Gwen doesn't reply and he guesses they did. "I knew it. Hey, don't worry about it," he says, trying to brighten her up. "He's gone now." Blake grins slightly, causing Gwen to give a soft smile. "Now, I don't have a clue what's going on, but I don't think we should be split up. No telling what'll happen." Gwen nods slowly and they start back to the others, Murphy looking to Blake in anticipation. Blake nods, showing Murphy all was well, and Murphy nods back.
"Ok, ladies. I don't know what's going on, most likely none of us do, but I think it's safe to say that we should stick together," Murphy starts, the others nodding in agreement. "One thing, though. No advances, toward men or women," he continues, glaring at Macho Man, and then giving Blake a look. "We don't need no fighting at this point in time, got it Macho? Greasy boy? Vincent?" Macho Man merely grunts and looks away, crossing his heavily muscled arms across his chest. Blake sneers at the two, then looks away, glancing quickly at Gwen before moving to a wall and leaning against it. "Right then- Now for the plan."