Part 3:

Life is good on death row:

Max

The sunlight that filtered into my cell the next morning kissed my face like a gentle lover, and for a moment I thought of my wife, and home. But the iron bars and stark walls quickly brought the dream to an end.

The call came out to line up for the morning meal, and the cacophony of cell doors slamming almost sounded like metallic applause and caustic cheers. Welcome to a brand new day.

Be both caught a lot of stares as we marched down the ant-line food-queue. Necks were stretched and craned as we went, everybody wanting to see the prisons' newest exhibitions. Everybody in here had a friend, brother or cousin that I killed. I knew it. And they knew it. Their eyes lusting with desire to pay me back for every broken bone I have. If looks could kill, I would be a smoking crater on the ground.

My hand tightened around my once-toothbrush, hidden snugly in my left palm. It took some sleigh of hand between Frank and me to get it past the metal-detectors, but that weapon was the only lifeline I would have in this hellhouse.

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long until I would need my toothbrush-death bringer. Even as I was trying to force the putrid substance, in here going under the misleading term of food, down my throat, my built-in radar immediately warned me of the would-be killer walking in my direction.

Now, detective Payne, what gave away the persons intent?

Well, fact one: He's walking in my direction while trying to look like he's going anywhere but here, his eyes darting back and forth with unhealthy rapidity.

Fact two: He's young and inexperienced and, judging by the two bald-headed gorillas staring at him judgingly, trying to climb the proverbial prison ladder-of-respect.

Fact three: Aforementioned gorillas just handed him a knife.

Fact four: He's shaking badly enough to but any Parkinson-victim on this globe to shame, and his white t-shirt was drenched in sweat.

Conclusion: You are about to be killed by a pathetic little punk. I almost laughed out loud. I would if I could. I could only phantom why I had been chosen to be this little bastards' first kill. Someone obviously hadn't been doing their homework.

I didn't look up. I could hear his fearful breathing, but I didn't look up. I could smell his fear, but I didn't look up. I could feel him drawing back the knife, but I didn't look up. But the very nano-second his knife started descending my reflexes, honed to perfection by bitter need, sprung into action. I grabbed his wrist and parked my knife in his windpipe, blood splashing onto the floor with nauseating velocity. For less than a second he tried simultaneously coughing and blood and breathing oxygen before slumping to the floor.

The gorillas' eyes went as wide as saucers. They looked at each other in disbelief, looked back at me, and charged at me like two bulldozers, swatting away anything and anyone in their way. I ducked the first punch, his fist grazing my hair by inches, rammed my shoulder into his stomach and kept pushing, sending him into a nearby table. He doubled over backwards and I immediately got on top of him, my fists pounding at his pace like pistons. Someone grabbed my from behind, and before I knew what was happening I was sailing through the air. After what seemed like hours, my back impacted loudly with the very solid wall, knocking all air out of my collapsing lungs. In my double-vision I saw the goon thundering my way, his fist raised, ready to drop like a sledgehammer.

This was going to hurt.

The human locomotive was suddenly intercepted by an elbow to the face, and judging by the wet crunch his nose was pulverized.

Frank didn't waste any time. He jabbed at his throat and delivered a head butt to the already obliterated nose, making the gorilla give a very un-masculine whimper.

That's when the cavalry decided to crash the party. They marched into the battlefield like medieval warriors, nightsticks in hand, and rained stinging blows on everything and everyone, me included.

My legs gave out under me, liquid pain soaking every fibre of my already halfway ruined body.

"Alright, knock it off!"

The picture froze, all bodies stopping in their tracks, all eyes turning to the owner of the voice. The emperor had stepped down from his throne to mingle with the unclean mob, wearing a spotless suit. This guy was as streamlined and soulless as they come, immaculate haircut, sharp facial features, a moustache trimmed with surgical precision. His image was topped off with a steel-grey gaze, always focused. Meet Warden James Steele Falzon, a man whose love for discipline was only matched by his lust for power.

After Franks' spectacular escape three months ago, the former warden, along with all the surviving guards had quit the job, something about nerves, and Falzon wasted no time claiming it. Now, he ran the place like his own personal third-world state; a fact that seemed to go unnoticed by anyone outside these walls.

"Someone is here to see you, Mr. Payne. Follow me please"

Two guards hauled me into my aching legs, and as I was dragged through the fallen food-trays and aforementioned trays' content, Franks' voice shouted out a warning at me.

"Watch your back!"

Frank

After many years of trying to stop the phenomenon known as gang-rape, the superintendents of this prison had, in all their mighty intellect, decided that bathing every inmate on the entire cell-block at the same time was a very bad idea.

So now you could bathe whenever you liked. Thank god for the land of the free, where morality is good and double-morality is twice as good.

My body was still aching from the decisive beatings of the guards. Blue splotches were slowly materializing all over my skin, and I could tell I would be walking with a limp for the next few days. For a second, I wondered what it would be like to be a stranger to such pains instead of just registering it and stowing it away along with all the other trash in my brain. Like everything on Ryker's, the water was unforgiving, on a good day being lukewarm at best, and spraying with uncanny velocity, like the blood in those miserable Quinten Tarentino films. But it soothed nonetheless, like the hand of a gentle wife it relaxed my body and allowed me to organize my thoughts, or rather, my worries. Who wanted Max, and why? I knew full and well the troubles he usually landed himself in, and when our mystery guest had dragged Max away, my eyes nearly watered by the stench of trouble. I knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but being here placed us both in severe disadvantage should anything happen.

Speaking of trouble…

Over the metallic sound of cascading water drumming on the floor, a pair of shoes could be heard swiftly crossing the damp tiles, not in any way trying to conceal itself. I saw the punch coming from a mile away, and all I had to do was bend my head to the right, and the fist rammed forcefully into the wall, shattering tiles and knuckles alike. Not even bothering to look at the offender I grabbed aforementioned hand and rammed the owner attached to it into the wall, knocking him out cold.

"You'll have to excuse Larry here; apparently the guy Payne sliced today was a friend of his"

Three mooks stood in the doorway, oozing suave confidence from every pore. I immediately pegged them as mobsters, judging by their thick Brooklyn accent. Behind them was a very bribed-looking guard, humming to himself and examining the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

I turned around.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now"

"Easy there big fella. The boss wants to see you" One of the mooks chirped, sweat beading on his forehead.

'The boss' was Don DeZantes, a powerful former mob-boss who had been here for the better part of 20 years, building up an empire behind the bars. Nobody here drew a breath without his say-so, and those who did were prone to having 'accidents.'

Like a giant spider lurking in the middle of a web of steel bars and concrete, he was the law-behind-the-law. The true holder of power.

"This should be interesting"


C'Mon, review people. Thanks to BLAKKSTONE for reviewing