"Hey Jackal, did you hear about Puppet? Somebody offed him over in cellblock C." The Kid said, lounging on the concrete floor. He was careful to keep his distance from the dark-haired one everyone knew as Runner, who was sitting in the corner, glinting eyes half open and hand rubbing a scar visible through the scruff on his jaw-line.
The dark haired man with the scowl growled noncommittally. Flinching, the Kid's eyes were drawn to Runner's scowling face. A sudden rush of terror caused a shiver to travel up the young man's spine, his chestnut eyes darting anxiously as he shifted farther away from the killer. A sort of warmth rising in his chest against the frigid fear, reminding him that this was both the most dangerous man he'd ever met, and the best.
The man next to Runner sighed, pausing from his push ups, the lithe muscles in his dark arms bulging under the rings of tattoos. The rings were only broken by the shiny red burns and white scars that split his features like a puzzle, the strong jaw now tilted knowingly towards the Kid. "He knows. He told Puppet it was coming and he didn't listen."
Holding himself up on one arm, the man absentmindedly ran his fingers over his bald head, his thin fingers pausing on the raised scar tissue that bisected his eyebrow.
"So, shit happens." Switching arms, the man began to do one-armed push-ups, eyes focused on the Kid, who was nervously fingering his dreadlocks at this point.
"Yeah? You know they're sending in some outside cops to clean it up?" By this point, the Kid was struggling to sound nonchalant. He was fairly new to the joint, and while the Jackal didn't bother him, he had heard things about Runner, things that made his stomach churn and his eyes dart. The man was a god.
A sniffing sound seemed impossibly loud, coming from the Runner's corner. The Kid froze. They said He could smell fear. He could taste guilt. He could drive a man mad.
A trickle of sweat ran down Kid's forehead. The dark haired man laughed quietly, chuckling for some reason at the comment (or maybe Kid's obvious fear) and making the talkative boy jump. In a nervous gesture, Kid tugged at the bottom of his shirt, swallowing dryly.
He held his ground. This was Runner. Not a villain, not a hero. Runner was his own man. And Jackal was more than just Runner's shadow.
Jackal, the African American one on the floor snorted in derision, switching sides of his one-armed push ups so that he could look at the other man, one eyebrow quirked in amusement.
Perched in the corner with his back braced against the wall, Runner shot him a falsely innocent look, a bizarre impression sweeping over the Kid at the sight. Beneath the tattoos and scars, Kid could've sworn Runner looked... nice. Kid found himself studying the face. It was an expression he had rarely seen.
Not since the incident that changed him from Steven to 'the Kid,' not since his stepfather's fist struck his cheek and the gun went off in his hand... He shook his head away from the gaze.
Runner had saved his life once, but that didn't mean he was spared from Runner's words, from the eyes that dissected him.
"Come on, Runner, you're scaring the Kid." The Jackal's voice came out as a deep growl. Kid struggled to avoid glancing at the scar that stretched across the man's throat, having heard the story behind it. The two men he sat by were legends. Dangerous, but good men.
The dark haired man's eyes flew open and his expression changed in an instant at Jackal's statement, his face suddenly consumed with a mischievous grin that didn't meet his eyes. They remained flat, blank, devoid of any expression Kid had perceived earlier. His countenance was mildly disturbing.
"That right?"
Kid winced, remembering the feeling of pain as a hard fist struck his abdomen, remembering the whisper of his stepfather's breath against his ear. Remembered the day he almost died.
He owed these men his loyalty. They were great men. Someday, he hoped he lived to see it, they'd be known as good men, too.
Without thinking, as if it were routine, the African American man grinned and sat up, the tattoos on his bicep rippling. "You know that's right."
Runner tensed and on his white knuckles the letters A-C-A-B stood out in relief. "Don't be the only one on enemy turf, McChicken, the Kid don't scare that easy, does he?" The look in Runner's eyes was oddly compassionate, and Kid was sure the man KNEW. But then, this was Runner. He knew everything, it seemed.
"Tell me, Kid, what have you heard about me? Don't be afraid to speak. You're the only one around here who's throat hasn't been slit at least once, and don't think I didn't see you staring. Have you heard the story? Have you been told of how I drove a man mad with a look? How the last man who crossed me ended up worst than your stepfather, dying at his own hands after five minutes alone with me?" Runner cut himself off with a throaty chuckle of dry amusement.
The Kid gulped as the man' s keen eyes turned on him, scanning him over the large, sharp nose. He knew that if he lied, Runner could tell. Runner could always tell.
"They say the Aryan Brotherhood tried to recruit you and that you were there when the leader lost his mind. They say you did it, and you didn't even touch him. They say you know things you shouldn't and you started your own gang from the ground up when one of the crazy guy's men tried to..." Kid felt himself start to ramble, forcing himself to meet Runner's dark hazel eyes.
"Yeah, whatever." Runner interrupted. "I wanted to know what you thought."
"I think that you're a good guy and you don't belong in a place like this." Kid didn't know where it came from, but he suddenly realized he believed it. The man was dangerous, but good.
Runner suddenly looked furious, his eyes narrowing and his fists clenching as he tensed, half-rising. "And what the hell would you know about me and what I've done?"
Kid stood, "I know that I'm alive. I know that feet no longer trip me whenever I pass, that my food doesn't disappear off my plate. I know that I'm stuck in this hole with you and yet, somehow I'm the freest I've ever been. I know my life is your forfeit. And I know the cops won't hear a word about Puppet's death. And I know you know who did it. You know everything around here. And you know what? I don't fucking care, man. You're a goddamn Robin Hood and you don't even see it."
Kid left, turning his back deliberately on Runner as if to prove his point. Runner was a good man who would never attack when someone's back was turned.
Jackal watched his friend's careful movements, analyzing him. "He was right, you know, you are a good man."
Runner snorted in derision.