K, so I got the idea from watching the Shawshank Redemption. Don't own DK! Loves you all! VXR

1
Alfeegi

The bus trudged along the road to the large building of stone steel and concrete. The bus was long, tall, large, dark, and empty. It's sweltering interior consisted of long wooden benches with metal rails in front of them, and small windows. The windows there only because the state law required them to be on the vehicle. The bus driver sat in his little cubical at the front, with the AC on, and the radio who's sounds wafted on the still air to the back of the bus, though the cool air was not to be found in the hell furnace that the rest of the bus consisted of. In the farthest bench back, in the darkest, hottest, most stagnant corner of the bus – sat a lone prisoner.

Alfeegi tugged at his handcuffs again, and found that they didn't come, just like they hadn't given for the last three hours. They were looped around the pole in front, then gripped his thin wrists, forcing his arms to be almost strait out in front of him. Sweat ran in rivers down his back and through his hair; which was bright aqua green; mostly short save for the long strand that ran down the length of his back. His usually crisp business suit was now limp, and showed sighs of wear. He had worn it to his trial, and hadn't been given time to change before he was put in handcuffs and whisked onto the bus. Sighing, he pressed his forehead to the cool glass of the small window, and looked out of the filthy, black-tinted glass.

Fields ran past him as though fleeing from his eminent housing, knowing what horrors the prison held within, and wanted nothing more than to leave it behind them as fast as they could. Alfeegi wanted to join them, to run away from the prison, instead of be traveling towards it. But the jury had found him guilty of tax fraud. Him, the head accountant of Draqueen, guilty of tax fraud. He hadn't, of course. He was really and truly innocent, but the circumstantial evidence had pointed at him, and he was now in handcuffs because of it. He would remain at the prison until his appeal, then he would either stay there as the trial progressed, or be put on house arrest. His appeal wasn't for another eighteen months. His sentence was for five years.

It's not that Alfeegi thought that he couldn't stand the five years in prison, at least it wasn't life! However, the fact was that if he ever applied for another job, it'd be on his record that he was jailed for tax fraud, and he didn't want that black smudge on his spotless name when he hadn't committed the crime. He wanted the appeal to wipe himself clean.

I've got a good taste for blended whiskey

I can see my way around this bar

I can hear the sound of a vintage jukebox

And the smell of a hand-rolled cigar…

The drawl of a depressing country song rolled from the cab at the front, as well as the off-key singing of the driver. But they fell on the deaf ears of Alfeegi as the prison loomed up in front of him, and before he knew it, he was in the shadow of the docking bay of the prison, and painted on the black wall was the message in large white letters that was burned into his mind;

WELCOME TO DRAQUEEN STATE PENITENTIARY

He had a feeling that the message lied.

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The tunnel was darker than the bus, but at least it was cool, and damp. The bus had been so hot and dry, this was a welcome relief. However, as the tunnel ended he was in the bright sun, in the heat, and in a hall made of chain-link fence, lined with prisoners. The "hall" was wide, but that didn't mean that the prisoners were far back. With his head bowed, and his cuffed hands in back of him, Alfeegi walked with his armed escort of prison guards to what was soon to be the interior of the gray stone walls, and listened to the taunting jeers of the crowd.

"Look at that hair! They should've sent him to the freak circus down the road!"

"Awl, a business man was put with the dogs of society. Woof woof! How's it feel now boss man!"

"Look at him! It's as though he doesn't know where he is!"

"Hey! Wimp! Catch!"

Just then, a young man with black hair with blue highlights in it and green eyes chucked a rock at Alfeegi, which collided with his temple, and he fell to the concrete walkway. Jeers and laughs accompanied his fall, and the guards ran the muzzles of the guns across the fence to force the inmates back, but without much luck. The laughter and obscenities just kept pouring from the inmates mouths as they watched Alfeegi struggle upright with hands tethered with only about and inch of space between his wrists and behind him. Blood poured from the gash on the side of his head, and his blue/green hair turned a brilliant shade of violet as the red liquid spilled out the side of his head, down his neck, and seeping into the lazy white collar of his suit.

One of the guards helped him to his feet, and yelled above the roar into the radio on his shoulder how the infirmary needed to be opened. Rushing Alfeegi faster through the fenced-off area, he was able to be put onto a golf-cart that took him to the sickbay, and was put onto the table just as the nurse hurried into the room. One look at Alfeegi's head, and the platinum-blond gathered the necessary medical supplies. Alfeegi was feeling light headed just as a cold cloth was put to the cut on his temple, and cleaned the blood off inefficiently. The wound was bleeding too quickly for her to be able to clean it enough to see, so she guessed as she stitched it closed. Once it was closed, she cleaned it off, and found that she had guessed rather well. Wiping the rest of the blood off as well as she could, she released him to the guards, and they whisked him off to the showers.

Finally un-cuffed, he striped, and was shoved into the showers, then given a green prison suit, white under cloths, socks, and shoes. Once dressed, he was cuffed again, and put into a holding room. Ten minutes later, a tall man stepped into the room. His chin-length purple hair was swept back, and his black-and-white-pin-striped suit was pressed, and very clean. He walked into the room, and stared down his long nose to stare at the silent figure sitting chained to the chair. His long teal hair that normally looked perky and stood in the air was now wilted, and because it was wet, it was plastered to his head.

"I am 'The Warden'." Said the purpled haired man, still staring at the silent Alfeegi; who was inspecting a speck of dust on the floor. "I want you to remember two rules here at Draqueen State Penitentiary. The first of which is that my word is now the law, and what I say, goes. The second is that in the last thirty years of this prison, not one inmate has left. Not ONE! They are all here, and will remain so."

Alfeegi knew that the welcome sign in the loading bay wasn't true at all.

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Alfeegi was un-cuffed, then shoved into his cell where he hit the stone floor, and felt something in his neck pop. The bars clanged shut, and the taunting and the joking started up again. Alfeegi lay there, on the floor, on his back, unmoving. The floor was cool, and was the only thing that seemed to make scence. The world kept spinning, and the yells at him meshed together until it throbbed in time with his head. After a time he stood, and sat on his bed to take in his new surroundings.

On one wall was the bunk that he was currently seated on; on the opposite wall was a sink, and in the corner was a steel bowl that served as a toilet. Under the bed was a towel, soap, tooth brush, and new cloths for the next day. The stone wall was black, even with the last rays of day streaming through the window-bars. Sighing, he stood, and went over to the only part of his cell that wasn't a wall. The bars were the only thing that separated him from the other prisoners, and he like the idea that they couldn't touch him here.

Threading his arms through the bars, he rested his elbows on the cold steel, and leaned heavily on them for support. His forehead thunked against it once, then again – harder this time – and the voices around him separated, and he could distinguish which ones came from where, even as his head continued to throb.

"Woof woof! Come'n business man! Show us those fangs of yours! You gotta have fangs to be one of the state dogs! Woof woof! Hahaha!" It was the blond in the cell across from him, his long hair tumbled to his knees, and his blue eyes sparkled with the thought of fresh meat.

"'Cumon freak show! Shake that blue head of yours! Maybe the color will come off and you can pass for normal around here!" It was the cell above the blonde's, a man was there with hair just past his shoulders, and mostly bark brown, but red/orange tips that swished as he demonstrated the "head shake" that he wanted Alfeegi to do, his brown eyes clenched tightly as he created the rude gesture. "'Cumon freak-wad! 'Cumon!"

"Now you know where you are." Said a quiet voice in the cell besides his. "Well, fresh blood is always a call for celebration. And you look like you know how to swing it." It was a blond with short hair and green eyes that stuck his face through the bars as best he could so Alfeegi could see him. The man flipped Alfeegi off. "Cry baby cry."

Alfeegi looked at him, and knew that the man wanted him to break down, to act like a child so that he and the other prisoners can have even more "fun". However, Alfeegi felt like if there was anything that he was going to do, sobbing would be the last. Alfeegi sighed, turned, and laid down on the bed. He heard the man behind the wall next to him call out to a prisoner named Rune, telling him to keep an eye on "that new kill" just to see if Alfeegi would start to cry. The night had just began, and Alfeegi could tell that it was going to be a very long night indeed.

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The midnight shift of guards signed in, and the day guards left for home. The warden had left an hour after berating Alfeegi, and the prisoners were silent as the giant clock in the warden's office struck twelve. Alfeegi was the only inmate that was still awake. He sat with his back against the bars, staring out the little bar-set window, out to the black night blanket studded with stars. His head still hurt as he fingered the stitches on the side of his head. That gash was the only thing that wasn't blurred in his memories. Weeks after, he would look back on his arrival at the prison, and they would all run together, as though someone glued them all, one behind the other. But that scar! That moment was branded into his mind, and would haunt him his entire time there. The whole night was spent staring out of the window, back pressed to the bars that served as his door.

Around three in the morning, Rune was jerked awake by the sound of a voice. Standing and shaking his head to clear it, he came to the bars of his room, and saw the new kid sitting against his. Silently Rune stands – curious – and watches Alfeegi. Alfeegi was singing quietly to himself, not knowing that Rune is awake, and had his tenor of a voice waft beautifully threw the bars to the twilight outside. The guards that walked the floor that night heard it, and found them selves smiling at the haunting tune that was loud enough to be heard if you really listened, but not loud enough to wake the man in the cell beside Alfeegi. Rune only woke up because he was a light sleeper, and always enjoyed listening to someone sing… so long as they were good. And Alfeegi was the best he had heard since coming to the jail some ten years earlier.

"…And the headlines say that the end looks grim

And that the future don't look so bright.

You can't even open your mailbox, you can't take a plane

And everyone's looking for somebody to blame-"

Alfeegi was suddenly cut off by a small voice behind him. Gasping sharply, he pivoted around on his knees, and wildly looked around for the speaker.

"You have a nice voice, business man, you just might find a way to fit in if you keep singing like that around here. I just might ask you to quiet the rest of us dogs down tomorrow night with a bit of that. Woof… woof." Rune whispered across the floor, and Alfeegi knew that he meant it. "I like that song, Toby Keith is a good country artist, you know any of his other songs?" Alfeegi nodded. "Sing one." Alfeegi started, very quietly, and making sure not to wake anyone else.

"Met you in a café

At a table meant for two

You were sitting by your lonesome…"

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The sun shown bright and hot as the breakfast line started. Rune seemed to ignore Alfeegi as the man was shoved to the back of the line. Alfeegi was left waiting for the line to move. His turn for food finally came, and the nurse from the day before was the one that had been dishing the food out. Seeing Alfeegi, she smiled.

"Feeling better today? Not planning on taking up that table in the infirmary today, are you?" she mused aloud to him.

"Not that I know of. Thank you for your help yesterday, I'm forever grateful to you." he gave her a slight smile. She blushed.

"Don't worry about it, it's my job after all. My name's Cernozura, welcome to Draqueen State Penitentiary. Oh dear! I'm so sorry, but we're out of food!" she really did look sorry.

"That's alright, I wasn't hungry this morning for food, just the sight of a beautiful woman, and you've already filled that. I should be just fine until lunch, then I expect to find something to eat - even if it's crackers. My name's Alfeegi, it's nice to meet you Cernozura, even if it has to be while I'm in prison." He smiled again, and went to find a table that was empty. There wasn't one.

There was one seat that was open, and that was next to the boy that had thrown the stone the day before, and across from the blond in the cell next to Alfeegi's. Silently, Alfeegi stepped up to the table, and sat on the edge of the bench. The table fell quiet instantly. Rune sat on the other end of the table, and glared at Alfeegi.

"What are you doing here freak-show? Shouldn't you be with the other freak-wads under the table." The red-tipped man that was halfway down the table from Rune snarled.

"We've got our selves a real smart-ass here boys." Said a man with a scar across his face, light sandy brown hair, and violet eyes that sat across from the boy that had chucked the rock.

"There's no where else to sit." Alfeegi protested, only to have himself shoved onto the floor by the black-haired youth.

"Shaadup wimp, and grovel at us." He yelled as he took over the spot that Alfeegi had just vacated.

"No Rath, let him sit here. He's our entertainment today." The blond-haired-green-eyed man that Alfeegi had sat across from shrugged, and Rath, the black haired one, made a little space for Alfeegi to sit. "What's your name, little baby?"

"Alfeegi."

"And what are you in here for, Alfeegi?"

"Tax fraud." The table irrupted in fits of laughter, which caused the guards to shout and warn.

"Tax fraud! And I though that Thatz's reason was stupid!" Rath shouted.

"Hey, theft is noble at least. I heisted thirty-eight banks before they caught me. You just had to murder someone, Rath, to get life!" Thatz, the sandy/brown with the scar, shouted right back.

"He's right Rath, you killed one lousy cop, and you got life! Thatz's got twenty!" said the blond across the table.

"Common! Of all people that I thought would be on my side, I thought that you'd be Lykouleon!" Rath screamed in laughter.

"Hey now, all that he did was fake insurance!" called a white haired man with glasses across from Rune. His lemon-yellow eyes glittered as he entered the discussion. But that was soon cut off as a tall, black-haired man came over, and stared down at Alfeegi. The table fell silent, and waited for the man to speak.

The man just looked at Alfeegi, silently, without emotion. His red eyes were dark, but blank as they took in Alfeegi's face, and his muscular build towered over the shorter man. The whole cafeteria had fallen silent, awaiting the black-hair's judgement. After a moment, he raised a hand, and punched Alfeegi across the jaw.

"You are in my seat." He said, and plunked himself down at the spot that Alfeegi had just been evicted from.

"Well said Tetheus!" Rune shouted, and the conversation that had been going on before Alfeegi had sat down took up again.

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Alfeegi sat in the corner of the jail-yard, tired, hungry, and too insecure to try to find someone on his side. Sitting on the ground, his green shirt draped over the back of his neck and shoulders, rather than in place, and his white tank top was already damp from the heat of the day. The green pants clashed violently with his black sandals and the brown/red clay of the yard. There weren't any plants; not even a weed stood a chance in the dusty ground, and the air was hazed so much from the prisoner's feet kicking up the ground that the plants would have been sun-deprived.

Therefore, Alfeegi sat by the fence made of stone iron steel and concrete. Leaning up against the guard tower, he watched as the other prisoners joked, ran, and sat around with each other. There were little cliques here and there, but a majority of the prisoners went helter-skelter from one group to the other. Some were playing soccer, only with a roll from breakfast, rather than with an actual ball. There was a large mass milling about the other wall across the way, in the shade, seeming to be in a large discussion, and more – smaller – groups – mainly in twos and threes – wandered aimlessly around the yard, silently or talking quietly. Only one prisoner (besides Alfeegi) was alone; the white-haired man with the glasses from earlier. He walked around, a cigarette held lightly in his thumb and forefinger as he tried to strike up a conversation with whomever he could. Whenever he was pushed away, he took a long draw from the cig, and held it as tightly as possible. Then he'd let it go in a sigh, and wander to the next group of people. He went through about three cigs before he gave up and walked over to Alfeegi.

He stood over Alfeegi, watching him. Taking another taste of dried tobacco, he tossed the butt on the ground next to Alfeegi, then ground it out with his combat boot. He released the smoke, purposely blowing it into Alfeegi's face even though Alfeegi sat and the man stood. The glare from the sun on the glasses blocked the man's eyes from Alfeegi, but as he coughed, Al felt the leer that looked down on him.

"Who do you think you are?" the man asked the teal haired man still on the ground. "Who do you FUCKING THINK YOU ARE!"

"My name's Alfeegi." Was the only response that he could give, fearing that any other answer would land him in so much trouble that simple stitches might not be enough.

The man continued to screech at Alfeegi, drawing a crowd. Alfeegi knew that he was going to hate it here.