Chapter 9

Snyder gritted his teeth as he punched the bag in front of him, fists flying with each second. He continued to throw them forward, ignoring the pain coursing through his fists. He felt the skin of his knuckles split against the seam of the bag but continued to punch forward. There was more than enough pain in the world and any pain he felt within his joints was enough to continue to push himself forward.

He pulled back on his punches and started the long and hard kicks into the punching bag. With each hit, Brown, who sat in the corner of the room, winced at the viciousness of the sound. Snyder ignored him, continued to punch and punch and punch until he made a screaming yell of a kiai and knocked the bag off the wall and onto the ground, ripping it from the chains that held it to the ceiling.

Letting out a low breath between his teeth, Snyder stared at the punching bag that lay on the ground. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head, sweat beading up and rolling down the back of his bald head. A new change, something no one would see coming. The best part of being able to get out and change…was to make others think he changed.

How hard would he be to find if he didn't look like he used to?

If he didn't have that long hair that rolled down his shoulders and easily pulled back into a ponytail?

That easily left DNA behind whenever he was caught?

So, what if his handsome looks didn't translate so well to having a completely bald head, to having a mustache and goatee combo that made him look even scarier than he ever had before?

Even those in the prison block that'd been locked up for years didn't want to mess with him while he was sent away. Mostly due to the fact that they owed him one; how many of those inmates had found their inner peace, had gotten their own set of fitness in with the martial arts he trained them for? How many times had he set up his own tournaments that had the officers that watched them even take their own bets to who would win after he put evenly matched ones together? Bets put on him to see how many rounds he could go in a row without breaking a sweat, without getting tired, without finally breaking down?

That was one thing that he could say that Mori taught well; how to move his pain into his mind and push forward, through it. Prison was a different sort of pain. A different sort of entertainment, if he were being honest, watching the top-tier danger tear each other limb from limb. It was amazing.

It was blood thirsty.

It was a dream come true of sorts, a perverse sort of dream.

A dream that he wanted to see Sam Douglas rolling in the middle of. And, if he had his way if everything went correctly, it'd the easiest thing to orchestrate. He just needed to make sure he took care of everything else.

Last time had been too easy; too easy to pull off, too easy to fail.

This time, this time would be better. The pay off would be better, with Sam begging for mercy, with him wishing for death than having to see anything else happen to his sons. With his plans, ever so carefully crafted working. One ripple that made waves, causing the biggest tsunamis anyone could see coming.

"Um…b-boss?"

Snyder sighed heavily, turning to face Brown, who continued to cower in the corner. Something that didn't change from the time they spent in prison. Though Brown had certainly managed to get off a bit easier; he wasn't the one who tried to murder a bunch of kids and their grandfather in a years'-pent up rage that exploded.

Yes, it was a mistake that he tried to kill him.

It was also a mistake that he hadn't just shot them dead the second he had the chance. Wouldn't he have loved to hear their screams of agony die out into death rattling wheezes. It would've been better than his partner in crime, who winced loudly each time he managed to strike…anything in front of him.

Yes, he may have tortured Brown one too many times, but he continued to stay by his side each time. Whether through intimidation…or Stockholm Syndrome, whichever kept the cowardly man by his side…his one true friend if he were being honest.

"Yes…?" Snyder practically growled. He sucked in a sharp breath and remained calm, a harsh contrast to how he'd react years before. An eerie change. The silence that stretched between them may have been a bomb going off if Brown hadn't swallowed hard and pulled himself up to his full height.

"Now that Harding's out of the picture and we can move forward with your plans…" Brown swallowed hard. His shaking slowly stopped. "There's more than enough time to ensure our escape this time, make sure we back Douglas into a corner…get away with everything…"

"No…" Snyder shook his head. He placed his hands on his hips. "I don't think so. You see Brown…
He reached up his hand to place to on Brown's shoulder, and merely watched as he flinched away. "I don't care anymore. I don't care about getting away with things. I don't care about Douglas finding out where we are…what we're up to…I don't care. I want him and everyone to know what I'm up to and who's the one who finally took down the director of the FBI. I want my name to be infamous…even if that means paying the ultimate price."

He shrugged carelessly.

He truly didn't care, if he were being honest. Because taking down an enemy was the best outcome, even if he went down in that fiery wreckage with him…and he'd take anyone and everyone around him when the time came.

A/N: A tiny look into Snyder, and to show how much he's changed—or else I'd say fallen into his own rabbit hole—while he'd been in prison. That darkness within him is certainly not leaving anytime soon, but whatever his thoughts are of getting revenge on Sam obviously isn't going to be much better for anyone around them.

Cheers,

-Riles