Authors Note: I feel that somewhere along the lines I should have apologised for all the bad language in this fic, especially as I've just read a story in which even the word hell had asterisks in. But what can I say, criminals and stressed police officers swear.

Enjoy this next one and let me know what you think.

Chapter 7

"You need to get in here." John hissed, grabbing the guard's arm and yanking him into the cell.

"I'm not going anywhere near you," the guard protested, "you lured me in here."

"Shut up and get under the bed." John ordered, with enough authority for the guard to obey. It was a tight fit for the man but he shuffled under John's camp bed and in the dim light it would be difficult for anyone to see him.

"What happened to the MX? Will he wake up?" Belton wondered aloud, fear clear in his voice.

"Someone is jamming their frequency." John said. "I've seen it before. They won't wake up without a system reset."

"Can you do that?"

"No." John frowned.

"Who would have the tech to jam them?"

"High value organised criminals, any number of terrorist organisations, an anarchist who's good with computers? Bigger question is, how is your security so lax they were able to get it in here? Hey Guerrero, that MX outside our door is going to draw attention. Give us a hand and we'll get it in here." Together they took hold of the robot and dragged it. The thing was heavy but they gripped an arm each and pulled it in, shoving it under the other bed so that it was tucked out of sight. The whole process caused further pain in John's hand, he guessed he'd cracked at least one knuckle if not two or three, but it also gave him a focus, anchoring his mind to the task at hand and keeping his ghosts at bay.

Outside the cell, it sounded like all hell had broken loose. There were cheers and shouts and the sound of stuff being smashed. Someone somewhere was sobbing loudly and the accompanying wet thuds suggested he was being beaten to a pulp. John had to stop himself from going out to help. The sounds were horrendous but he had to tell himself that he couldn't protect everyone, not without getting himself killed. Besides, there were people in the room with him that needed him too.

"Hey!" Someone appeared at the door. The only light was coming from the cloud covered sky beyond the skylight so with the dim backlighting it was almost impossible to tell who it was. "You seen that guard around here?" John didn't recognise the voice but the tone was laced with a dangerous anger.

Guerrero stood up and went to the door. "Yeah, the pussy ran passed as soon as the lights went out. You checked the stairs?"

The man in the doorway stood where he was. Even though John couldn't see him properly he could feel his eyes boring into him. He lay on his bed, still shivering with fever and hoped that he looked pathetic enough to be ignored.

"What the hell happened to him?" The man pointed.

"He got stuck yesterday with a crap ton of 'Vincent's Special', man, he's off his face."

"Oh," the sinister man said, and then chuckled. The chuckle turned into a nasty guffawing laugh. "Have fun with that five-oh." He addressed John before striding off, presumably to look for the guard.

"We have to get him out of here." Adam said as soon as the man left. "I am not getting killed because people think I helped a screw."

John was on his knees suddenly and reaching under the bed towards the MX. "We need somewhere we can secure and wait for this to get dealt with." He found what he was looking for and pulled out the MX's extendable baton.

"Wait!" Belton said, crawling out from under the bed. "There is no 'we'! You must think I'm a fool to team up with you."

John shot him an exasperated look. "I'm probably the only one in here who will lift a finger to protect you. Don't make me change my mind"

"You're a traitor and a junkie."

"No, but you are the person who is supposed to be in charge here. Doesn't that make it your responsibility to make sure people aren't pinned down and forcibly injected with shit that shouldn't even be in here?"

"Stop it." Guerrero snapped, trying to bring them back to focus. "What's the plan here?"

"We need to get somewhere we won't be found. Barricade ourselves in somewhere. Any suggestions?" He glared at the guard who seemed to crumble under the pressure.

"The infirmary." Belton whispered. "It's on an isolated power grid, so the doors should still lock."

"I ain't goin' with you." Adam said quietly.

"What? No, you have to come with us." John snapped.

"Hell no! If I'm seen with you and that bastard," he indicated Belton with a jut of his chin, "then I'll get killed when we all get back to normal."

"I can barely see two feet in front of my face, no one will notice." John pointed out.

"I'm not going." Adam said, trying to act tough but failing to convince anyone.

John nodded. "Okay." He held the baton in two hands like he was going to hit a baseball with it, the pain in his right hand making it impossible to hold it properly and then he stepped out into the corridor. It was slightly lighter outside the cell, there appeared to be a slight break in the cloud above, shining a faint beam of light to cut through the shadows. He looked left and right, to see if the coast was clear, which it was, but then the air was cut through with a bloodcurdling scream.

The noise echoed round the building, making it difficult to pinpoint the location, although he could tell it was a few levels above his current position and seemed to belong to the person who had been crying. There was another thud, and another scream, this time more muffled. John's heart sank, he couldn't listen to it anymore. He turned back to his small group and sighed. "Stay here, Belton, get back under the bed, wait for me." And he ran off towards the screams.

The stairwell was closed off and therefore almost pitch black. He took the stairs two at a time, moving up the flights of stairs quickly, being careful not to exhaust himself should he need to fight when he got to his destination, He found that all the running over the last month had helped, but the effects of the drug were dragging him down and the sudden movement was making him want to throw up. Day to day, the prison had been split into sections, to make the inmates more manageable and to stagger meal, shower and yard times as a way of dealing with the overcrowding, but now the heavy metal doors that split the building up every ten levels were wide open.

He got as far as level twelve and was now sure the person being attacked was on the floor above him, but it was difficult to tell in the confines of the stairwell. He came out onto the twelfth floor momentarily and came to the wall that protected anyone on the walkway from the drop below. He looked up to the level above and listened, to see if he could confirm where the fight seemed to be taking place. And then the man screamed again and suddenly a body was sailing down in front of John. John caught a glimpse of blue uniform and flailing arms as the man fell, he reached out to grab for him, and his fingers skimmed the cloth of the man's shirt, but couldn't get a grip and he watched helplessly as the man thudded to the bottom, landing heavily on the tiled floor below.

John stared down at the broken body below him. It was a guard, laying sprawled in a beam of sunlight, thick black blood oozing from a shattered skull. John had seen falls from that height before, and he could tell, even from this far away, that the man was dead instantly. His face was a pulpy mess and there was blood staining his shirt, but perhaps the worst thing was that his trousers and underpants had been pulled down and were pooled at his ankles. John dreaded to think about the specifics of what the guard had endured.

"You should have gotten to him sooner."

John looked up to see Dead Marty stood beside him, peering over the side with him at the dead man. "I couldn't." John whispered, even though the rational part of his mind was telling him that his friend wasn't really there.

"You heard him, they were torturing him and you let them do it." Dead Marty continued, he was inches away from John's face and angrier than John had ever seen him in real life. "You could have saved him but you didn't."

"I tried." John insisted, but the guilt weighed heavy on him and he knew he could have tried harder. He turned his back to the macabre scene and sank to the floor. He leant heavily against the wall and sat with his legs drawn up to chest. He rested his arms on his knees and stared at his rapidly swelling hand.

"What are you doing now?" Dead Marty sat down beside him, mimicking his posture. "You just gonna sit there and feel sorry for yourself? 'Cause you're good at that, isn't that what you've been doing for the last two years?"

John ran a shaky hand over his face. He was still feverish and the sweat had dampened his hair and plastered it to his forehead. He was suddenly aware of someone stood over him, he looked up to see one of the biggest men he'd ever seen looming in the stairwell.

"Not seen you before, what are you doing up here?" The man growled.

"I… nothing. I'm just on my way." John scrambled to his feet.

"Hey, I know you." The man said. John noticed his hands clenched into fists and the blood that was dripping from his knuckles. "You're that cop from A sector. You shouldn't have come up here."

John frowned, "You've got the wrong guy, but you're right. I shouldn't have come up here."

The man stepped forward and placed his hands on each side of the door frame, his muscled body was so huge he took up the whole doorway.

"Boy, you always did know how to win friends and influence people." Dead Marty said sarcastically. John shot him a look, which caused the big man to frown as he tried to work out what he was looking at. But John's hand tightened around his baton and flicked it, causing it to extend out. He held it up with both hands, his broken hand could barely grip.

The thug laughed and stepped forward, throwing a punch, but John ducked and swung his baton low, catching the man's knee. There was a resounding pop as the joint gave out and the man roared as his knee collapsed and had to grasp the wall to keep himself upright. John shoved the man aside and bolted. He was almost through the door when he felt a hand grasp a fistful of his jumpsuit. He shoved the man away and his jumpsuit ripped as he pulled free. John raced for the stairs and didn't look back.

He pushed passed crowds on the stairs, but thankfully it was so dark he hadn't been recognised. The noise had increased almost tenfold on the lowest levels, a group of prisoners had forced their way into the kitchens and were tearing them to shreds. By the time he made it back down to his cell he was breathing heavily and was feeling even worse. The brief shot of adrenaline that had allowed him to escape the great hulking killer upstairs, was draining from him and he had to blink away dark spots that were dancing in front of his vision. "Come on." He said to his little group. "We have to get out of here."

Guerrero and Belton looked ready to leave but Adam stood firm. "I'm not going with you."

"Yes, you are." John said in a voice that should have brooked no argument, but it didn't sway the younger man.

"Why do you care?"

John sighed, "Because it's become painfully obvious I've fucked this whole thing up."

"Fucked what up?" Guerrero said in shock but John was carrying on his explanation anyway.

"Your brothers, they're involved with a human trafficking ring, it's why you're here. They sold you out. We caught them a couple of months ago, they're in jail awaiting trial. But they're not giving up the top guys. So we were trying a different tactic. But I've been in here a month and I've clearly failed to get any kind of headway. You trust me less now than you did the day I got here, but you've not given anything away to Guerrero either…"

Guerrero looked sheepish as he realised the conversation they'd had that morning had been more than just idle gossip, he'd been played for information.

"Being outed as a cop on my first day didn't help but maybe I'm just rusty at this and so caught up in my own head that I couldn't focus. Anyway, this riot has fucked things up for all of us and it's probably gonna get me killed, so here's my last chance, tell me what you want in exchange for the names and locations of the guys at the top and I'll make it happen, and if I don't make it out of here then you can ask to speak to my boss, Captain Maldonado, she'll honour it."

Adam looked at him in disbelief then spat, "Fuck off!" and then stormed out.