Convicted

There was nothing I could do. Right after that guy fled the crime scene, I was stuck with Blatz's body on the couch, tied, gagged, and worst of all, with his brains all over. It did not take long for the police to respond. All I was met with was the GAC squad busting in. It wasn't long until Hennessey stepped in and I didn't have to ask any questions. I was taken in just like that.

Shadow was taken away, but luckily enough, Chris came and took him to be safe. He later called and told Hildy about everything that happened. Hildy kept on her promise that she would take care of Shadow if I didn't make it. However, when I said if I didn't make it, this wasn't what I had in mind.

It had been a week since I was taken into custody. The trial was set around the same time. There was no way I was going to win this one. I had called Judge Albert McGuffin, an old friend of my dad's who had always helped us out of a jam. He said he couldn't do anything. It appeared that from beyond the grave, Blatz still managed to get his lawyers and a judge to preside over the murder case. Hennessey was at the trial, too, as was Mayor Pinnacle. The odds were stacked against me. I was alone. Sure, Chris, Hildy, and Melissa, Chris's girlfriend, all attended my trial, but Ruby wasn't there for some odd reason.

Melissa, Chris's girlfriend was a Hispanic woman, likely of Mexican descent, who worked at the Bay Bell Hotel and was a witness to a robbery that occurred at the hotel that Jack and Chris had an investigated. Jack wondered why Ruby was absent for this. Sure, some people had their own schedules, but Hildy happened to be there, despite their relationship being somewhat rocky as of late.

None of it mattered, though. I was on my way to Iron Point Penitentiary. But the things that were on my mind were who was behind my father's murder, as well as who that guy was who shot Augie and framed me for it, and what did Boris Volkoff mean that night about Ruby? With a jury of Augie's peers, as well as a corrupt lawyer and judge involved, I was fucked. There was no way out of this shit, but it's just like Chris's father always said, I have to have faith. There had to be a way out of this.

It didn't take long for the jury to decide Jack was guilty for the murder. The bullet that was used to kill Augie Blatz matched with Jack's gun. Even worse, because Blatz had given back to Grant City's communities and was a beloved philanthropist, Jack was sentenced to death row, but who knows how long it would take. But it's like what Jack thought, there had to be a way to get through this.

Jack had arrived at Iron Point Penitentiary. He was immediately a marked man by the general population. With him being a policeman, it would likely be better if he was in solitary confinement, but given the corrupt justice system in Grant City, maybe he was put in gen pop for a reason. It was like whoever put him there, as well as sentenced him to death row, they likely wanted to have him gone sooner or later. Only Jack wondered who the puppet master was.

On the plus side, he ran into an old friend as he shared a cell with that man.

"Hello, Jack." A deep voice grabbed Jack's attention when he brought to his cell. This man was older, African-American, and wore glasses. Over his orange jumpsuit, he had a chain with a crucifix on it. The man was none other than Prentiss Jones, aka Preacher.

"Padre, Preacher Man," Jack said. "What a surprise that we would be cellmates."

"It's not like there is we have a choice on who to share a cell with," Preacher said.

"Well, I'm glad that it's you," Jack said.

"Thanks, Jack, I'm sorry about your old man," Preacher said.

"Thanks, Padre, it's been rough for me," Jack said.

"Your father was a good man, he raised you right," Preacher said. "How's my boy doing out there?"

"Chris is doing fine," Jack said. "You raised him right, too. In fact, he saved my life recently."

Chris, Preacher's son, had been a cop for a little longer than Jack, who had joined the police force sometime after his time with the Marines was done. If anything, Chris was the veteran cop of the two partners.

"Have you met the warden yet?" Preacher said.

"No, not yet, but I hear he's a real piece of work," Jack said.

"You don't know the half of it," Preacher said. "Sickle is like the devil around here."

"Sickle?" Jack said. That had to be the man's name, or at least nickname.

Chris had told me about the warden of this place being a real asshole. Jack thought. But I wonder how much of dick this guy really is.

It wasn't long until some prison guards, along with a man in a crew-cut and a dark suit walked into that cell block. With the prison being that open, Jack looked outside and saw this man in particular accompanied by some guards. This guy was tall, a bit muscular, and looked through the cell door with a malicious smile on his face. It had to be the warden.

"Well, well, if it isn't the killer cop and the preacher," Sickle said. "Oh, I've been looking forward to meeting you, Slate."

Jack could already see that this man lived up to his reputation. He had only heard about the warden through Chris, but Preacher had to experience what this guy does.

"I bet you're gonna be really popular around here," Sickle said with such malice in his voice. "You're not just fresh fish around here, but I'm sure that some of these guys around here like bacon, too. Yes, I bet you know a lot of guys in here."

Sickle let out an evil laugh. This man already got under Jack's skin. Jack felt like he was in Hell. It was certain that Jack may come across some familiar faces. The question on his mind was how long he will last in a federal prison.

ONE WEEK LATER…

It had only been a week since Jack's conviction and he already had a visitor. But who would come to visit him? He was about to find out. Jack was led to the visitor area. Many inmates were sitting in front of plate glass talking through telephones to their visitors. At the empty space, on the side of the window was a short-haired woman with Auburn hair. It was Hildy. Jack walked up to the window and sat down, grabbed the phone.

"Hildy, what a surprise," Jack said.

"Hi, Jack," Hildy said. "How are you doing in here?"

"Shit's fucked up, but I'm making it," Jack said.

"That's good," Hildy said, looking directly at him in the eye with a look of concern on her face.

"How's Shadow?" Jack said.

"I'm taking care of him, he's fine," Hildy said. "I just don't know what happened. All this shit happened so fast."

"I didn't kill Augie," Jack said.

"Yeah, but I know you wanted to," Hildy said. "Shit, Jack, you know how hard it will be to clear your name?"

"Are you saying you don't believe me?" Jack said.

"I'm not saying that," Hildy said. "I know how hurt you were when your dad was killed. I know you wanted to take him down and you went right to it. You had every reason to. You say you didn't shoot him, but it was your gun that shot him."

"I may have killed some of his thugs, but they shot at me first," Jack said. "Augie fucking told them to take me out and what the hell was I supposed to do? I had him cornered, but by the time I got to him, he was tied and gagged. I didn't do any of that shit. Some fucker shot me, but I lived. He spelled every fucking letter out to me and told me that Blatz had nothing to do with Dad's murder."

Hildy looked down and away. What Jack had told her was rather plausible. Sure, it was obvious that Jack had a death wish and had a reason to exact revenge and justice for Frank Slate's death. But if someone went to great lengths to set Jack up for a fall like that, then there had to be some truth to what he had said.

"Anyway, what's been up with you?" Jack said.

"I'm still working at The Den of Iniquity, but I am also looking for some more work," Hildy said. "The place went under new ownership since Augie's death."

After that, a few seconds of silence went through the air as Jack looked away from her for a bit.

"What, what's wrong?" Hildy said.

"There was one other thing that got me that same night," Jack said.

"What's that?" Hildy said.

"Well, you've seen those Russian guys at the strip club, right? Boris and Dimitri?" Jack said.

"Yeah," Hildy said.

"Well, that night when I went after Augie, one of those guys said something about Ruby," Jack said. "He started laughing and told me that I don't know shit about what she does."

"What are you saying?" Hildy said.

"Well, with you and Chris, as well as Chris's girlfriend at my trial, Ruby was nowhere to be seen," Jack said. "I wonder what happened to her."

"Well, I can't answer that," Hildy said. "I wasn't that close with her, but I had heard some rumors."

"What kind of rumors?" Jack said.

"Word has it that Hector Cruz, the guy who manages the Blue Fly Club," Hildy said. "He has a porn ring going on over there and I heard that Ruby might be taking part in their shoots."

"So she's fucking other guys in porno videos?" Jack said.

"I'm just telling you what I heard," Hildy said. "I don't know shit about anything else. Look, I'll come by whenever to see you, okay? I will still take care of Shadow. Just watch yourself in there, okay?"

Jack nodded his head and said okay. He put his hand against the glass, as did Hildy. They looked at each other dead in the eye. With Jack being sentenced to death row and had to do anything he could to survive in prison, he had to figure out a way sooner or later to get out of there. It was going to take some time, but that was his focus and he was going to stick to it.

As for what Jack had heard about Ruby, he shouldn't be surprised. But if she wasn't there to attend his trial, there had to be a reason behind it. She seemed like she genuinely cared about him, but there was something not right about this.

Inside an office somewhere in mansion located in the outskirts of Grant City, an elderly man sat at his desk but overlooked outside the window. From inside, a few men walked in. One was a man with dark hair who went by Dutch. Another was a bald man with piercings on his nose and ears and a couple of facial tattoos, whose name was Marvin Silt. And finally, a blonde man in black suit who went by Palmer.

"You wanted to see us, Mr. Sanderville?" Palmer said.

The chair spun around as the elderly man faced the three men who stood before him. John Sanderville, a man in his late-70s to early-80s, faced the three men.

"Yes, I wanted to see you guys," Sanderville said. "I wanted to talk to you about Jack Slate."

"What about that guy?" Dutch said.

"You see," Sanderville said as he got out a bottle of bourbon and poured it into a glass. "I want to know if there is anybody on the inside who could whack that fucking pig."

"But sir, it's beyond our control," Palmer said.

"Silence!" Sanderville said. "I know that Slate is on death row and I have my connections across the board. The thing is, I don't have a lot of time left. I'm old and the next one to take my throne after I go, Augie Blatz, had been whacked by the son of a bitch. I was wondering if any of you guys know someone on the inside who could kill that prick, and then maybe I could grant them an early release."

All three men looked at each other like they had no idea where their boss was coming from.

"I know someone," Silt said. "I know someone on the inside who could take care of Slate."

"Enlighten me, Marvin," Sanderville said.

"Some dude on the inside named 'Tattoo,'" Silt said. "I am connected with him. Real piece of work, he can handle Slate."

Palmer and Dutch looked at Silt. It was clear they had heard of Tattoo.

"Are you off your rocker?" Dutch said. "Tattoo is a fucking skinhead."

"I'm just telling you what I know," Silt said. "I can have a talk with him soon about this."

"Well, if you think this guy is right for it, then talk to him and we may have a deal," Sanderville said and reclined in his chair. "Otherwise we may have to wait until 4,000 volts will do the job. Go and try to reach him, Marvin. Dismissed."

The three men turned around and walked out of Mr. Sanderville's office. Palmer turned around and glanced at his boss. What could his boss be planning? With Blatz out of the picture, who could take over the throne when he goes? Sanderville appeared to have a lot of connections throughout Grant City.

In Sanderville's office, he got on the phone. "Hello, yes, I will arrange for something to be done about Jack Slate. Look, I know that there are plenty of other organizations in the city that have their own shit, but this is still my fucking city and I still rule it! Look, Fat Chow, Fahook, Blanjov, I will see what I can do about them, because I still have a hand in all of the criminal activity in the city. If anybody fucks with my shit, I'll send Patch or any of those Mayhem Inc fucks after them. Oh, you're talking about that. Maybe I will have a word with the mayor. Oh, you'll do it? Well, say no more, then. I'll be in touch."

Author's note: That's it for this one. I'm just going to say that for the next two or three chapters, I am doing a prison angle. So yes, Jack's in prison. I will also do some time-skips here and there before the inevitable.

As for the characters in the last bit, I made a mention in the past that I had read a tie-in comic book a couple of months ago. I even noted that I didn't know of its existence until around the time I was brainstorming ideas for this story. It's a tie-in, but the protagonist of the comic was Palmer, who will be in this story. Sanderville was also a character in the comic. It was a tie-in, but the story happened during the events of the first game, but since this story is a retelling of that story (with even characters from DtR2 in it), I am adding in some other subplots to it, but I will try not to make things too confusing.

Speaking of DtR2, I had to respell a name for one character, Hector Cruz, whose name in the game was spelled "Crooz." As someone who is Mexican-American, I will tell you that there may be alternate spellings of surnames, this is not one of them. So I spelled it the right way.

As for the opening bit, I had to look into parts about internal monologues in a third-person narrative. So I'm going to do some of that to show what goes on in Jack's point-of-view.

That's about it. I will continue this soon.