I'd apologize for my absence but I don't have much of a good reason anymore. Thank you, Miscellaneous Rhett for pointing out M&M's eye colour; I'll try and remember that in the future but for now I'll try to just not mention it. XD
Anything you don't already recognize belongs to me.
Use of strong and offensive language in this chapter. You don't like it, you don't read it.

Chapter Two

Johnny had to get used to waking up so early in the morning. He found himself stumbling out of bed and on his way to 'work' with little more than a few cups of coffee inside of him and maybe a piece of toast, if that was what he was chewing on. For all he knew, he could have ingested one of his precious cigarettes and was now imagining that it was toast with butter. Eggs would be nice, too, he thought sleepily as he walked as quickly as he could toward the math building, already in uniform.

Changing of the guards. His shift began at two-twenty, and he was to wake the prisoners for the count. He was nervous, but felt empowered in a way. Having been shoved around for most of his life by various authority figures, it felt nice to be on top for once. He could do this, even if he didn't know anyone else working with him.

When he entered the "prison" he found four other guards there, one of whom was leaving. Three for eighteen prisoners. All the confidence he had vanished instantly, but he held his head up, taking a deep breath and tapping his fingers against the billy club.

"You ready?"

The voice of the guard nearest to him was pleasant enough, and Johnny nodded. "Yeah, let's do it."

Prison

The whistle was what woke him up, but he chose to ignore the sound, burrowing further into his uncomfortable cot. He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to see what was in store for him unless it started with a 'mon' and ended in 'ey' and he could leave right after he received it.

Unfortunately, Two-Bit was not going to come out on top, for seconds later there was banging at his door and he sat up, rubbing his eyes and prodding one of his fellow prisoners in the side. "'ey, wake up, wouldja?"

The prisoner stirred, mumbling something about cigarettes, and when the door was thrown open, Two-Bit and his fellow prisoners stumbled out to form a rather unorganized line. The guards seemed nervous, and he snickered as one of them called for quiet.

The noise continued, until the whistles were blown again and he had to cover his ears.

"Up against the wall," commanded one of the guards, and with some smart remarks and a few jabs with the billy clubs, they did as they were told. "Count off." The guard's voice wavered a bit but still held some authority and they began.

"87591."

"48913."

"30231."

Two-Bit straightened at that voice. He knew that voice. "Ponyboy?" Ignoring the guard's commands to get back into line, he waltzed over to his friend and tapped him on the shoulder, offering a grin and a wave. "What's a goody-two-shoes like you doin' in a place like this, huh? Soda's gonna be pissed—"

"79172, come here now." It was the shorter guard, the darker one, and something seemed familiar about him, but Two-Bit couldn't tell what it was that made him seem that way. He grinned, but sauntered over to the guard and stood, waiting to see what happened.

"Fifty pushups, no breaks."

Two-Bit scoffed, and folded his arms. "Pushups?"

"Sixty."

He refused to go down, staring at his reflection in the guard's sunglasses and ignoring the nervousness that was beginning to replace what he had mistaken for bravery, but was actually foolishness. "I could do it in my sleep."

"Ninety."

Rather than receive more (he was sure he wasn't in shape enough for fifty, let alone ninety), he got down and began, hearing nothing at first but then the guards began to count. The three voices grew into a larger sound, everyone counting as he struggled to do the pushups, his arms feeling weak.

"N-No stretchin' first?" He gasped, his voice strangled and barely audible over the cry of 'thirty-seven'. If he fell, would he have to do the rest? Gritting his teeth, Two-Bit continued, trying to shut out the voices.

Prison

Ponyboy felt horrible. He should have stuck up for Two-Bit, and he should have taken the punishment with him, rather than staring at him with that look that said 'I-don't-know-you' look on his face. When they returned back to their cells, having completed the count just as the sun was rising, he caught Two-Bit's eye but there was no warmth in them.

The guards changed sometime before lunch, when something that looked like food but could have been plastic was dumped in front of them and they were expected to eat all of it. He tentatively took a bite of the 'string beans' and glanced sideways at M&M. The poor kid was practically falling asleep over his lunch, which was understandable. He had heard him up the night before, moving around in his cot much like many of the other prisoners who had been unable to sleep on the beds with mattresses that felt more like bricks than anything else.

As the day progressed, Ponyboy found himself growing increasingly bored. He played a silent game of rock paper scissors with M&M while trying to ignore the snoring coming from their fellow inmate who had yet to introduce himself apart from the gruff '52103'.

It was when the guards were switching again that word began to spread. He wasn't sure where it had started from, but it managed to come into his cell from the one across from his through exaggerated mouthing. All it took was one word while the guard's backs were turned, and he felt some of the hope that had left him upon his imprisonment returning.

M&M tapped him on the shoulder, mouthing the word 'what?' and receiving a large grin in return as well as a single word, whispered so quietly that he had to practically put his ear to Ponyboy's mouth to hear it.

"Rebellion."

Prison

"Yeah, babe... I'll—no, I'll be back tomorrow morning. Gotta take care-a these bums otherwise—yeah. No... Sandy—I love you too. Well... tell me about it later. I gotta go."

Sodapop hung up the phone and went about getting dressed. His shift was the night shift, and he had spent the entire day resting up for it. It made him a little apprehensive that he didn't know any of the guards he was working with (even if he and Johnny had worked together the day before, he had been told there were certain changes that had to be made), but he could certainly handle some sleeping, bored college students.

When he pulled up the building in his truck, he spotted Tim Shepard and waved, receiving a tired smile in return.

"How're they?" Referring to his younger brother, to Two-Bit and Steve... anyone else he knew who had been shoved into the cells. Tim shrugged, his expression unreadable.

"Quiet as ever. If somethin' doesn't happen, I'm gonna go nuts. Seeya, Curtis."

"Later, Tim."

He entered the building with a smile on his face, a bounce in his step, and stopped dead when he heard voices coming from the makeshift prison.

"Cocksucker!"

"BABY KILLER!"

"Fuck fuck fuck." One guard rammed his shoulder into the first cell, yelling something that was lost in the torrent of insults coming from within each of the cells.

"What's goin' on?" Soda peered inside one of the cells, jumping back when someone's hand shot out, fingers ready to grab onto any part of him they could reach.

"I dunno," the other guard replied, looking ready to leave. "One minute they were quiet...th' next... barricaded themselves in th' cells!"

He ran a hand through his hair, before throwing himself at one of the doors. "C'mon man, move the beds and I won't—"

"Make us, faggot!"

The problem got steadily worse, until about midnight, when Sodapop suggested calling in the reinforcements. "We can't handle 'em by ourselves. Get the others."