Fresh Meat

May 19, 1998

Damien Walker and his brother James were brought to the canteen for the daily meal. He was still trying to forget about his burial at the hand of the psycho that passed for the prison's doc. Put on the line to receive the slop they were fed just enough to keep them alive, then walking off to find a table.

They seated themselves across from Mickey.

"Walkers." Mickey greeted them.

He had to be the most burned out of the inmates in the internment camp. With his unkempt black hair that was beginning to gray and near-lifeless eyes, Mickey seemed dead inside. He just sat there and ate. Damien imagined that this was how he and James were going to end up one day—assuming the sadistic doc didn't kill him first—and he hated it.

Damien nodded.

James looked over to see the new faces to recently join them in the den of nadir. "Who's the fresh meat?"

Mickey glanced back before returning to his meal. "Burnside, and his kid Steve. Some company employee who got caught red handed or some shit."

"Oof…" James made a pitying sound before beginning to chow down, inspiring a scornful are you serious right now look from Damien.

As the Burnsides parted from the bastards on the opposite side of the food line handing out the low-cost, and likely low-priced food, Damien noticed one of the inmates Maurice Long pull himsef up from his table—looking at the Burnside father and son with hate blazing in his eyes.

"Mickey." Damien spoke at a low level. "Does Maurice know the dad was an Umbrella employee?"

Mickey remained apathetic.

"Who can say?"

"Crap."

Maurice reached into his pants, pulling out a shiv. Ready to shank the company scum-fuck fresh meat. He was never leaving this hell alive. His wife and son were left dead at his feet and the bastards who did it were beyond his reach. So he would settle for the fresh meat—he would make it quick, as he was not completely heartless.

Rushing the two ready to kill. Knocking the father away who staggered back. The boy was closer, so he would do the trick.

Damien lept to his feet. The guards were not going to intervene right way—Ashford was fine with inmates killing other inmates, it's why he allowed shivs to be accessible to prisoners. Maurice was faster than him—even before he was brought to the island, he was apparently an athletic built type—but the younger of the Walkers was closer to the Burnsides who he had that one edge going right for him. Maurice was in the midst of attacking the kid by the time he managed to grab hold of him and throw him back.

"Outta my way, Walker!" Maurice barked demandingly. Want blood and nothing else.

Damien held up his hand in a non-aggressive gesture. "Cool it, Maurice. No need to do anything rash."

"Like hell there is."

Maurice came at him with the shiv. He was faster than Damien was used to so it was a bit hard to stay ahead. Just narrowly avoiding a stab intended for his neck. Walker grabbed the wrist before it could retract then jammed the elbow of his other arm into Maurice's nose, causing him to stagger back.

"Come on, buddy, this isn't worth it."

"Shut up!" Maurice slashed up a bit more angrily, the forcefulness causing it to be slightly faster than his last attack, cutting into Damie's eyebrow.

"Christ…" James was up already and eager to beat the shit out of Maurice. He had thought Damien could handle it but it seemed he was mistaken.

A full-on fight broke out with Archie and Otis joining Damien's side as well.

Closing the eye as blood trickled down, Damien sighed angrily. "Fine, have it your way." Charging for Maurice, as the man was now overdue for a beating.

Assessing Steve

May 19, 1998

Brian Lecter was called in to look over those involved in the fight.

Damien was resting, sitting against the wall next to the younger of the Burnsides when he arrived. He didn't like the psycho, but at least Doctor lecter was going to behave with the more reasonable guards like Doug nearby.

He stitched up the cut through Walker's brow, making a creepy comment to him as he did it. How he was displeased he wasn't the one causing the former college student the greatest of displeasure as was the norm.

Steve watched him. He was calm throughout, the rage he had seen his give voice to in the fight with that Maurice guy vanished.

Once the doc was done, he walked over to speak with the guard.

When he had the chance, Damien looked over to the kid. He seemed still in shock of what was going on around him. The reality of the situation seemed to still be setting in, still acclimating to his new sense of reality. He looked like he could not have been any older than his little brother Kieth was when Umbrella's gunman came to clean the mess. He even reminded Damien of Keith right down to his face.

"You okay, kid?" Damien whispered to him.

Steve nodded. "Yeah."

He didn't want to talk. Damien couldn't blame him. He was just the same himself when he and James were delivered to the prison. He just wanted to keep his head down and mouth shut and pray nothing else happened to him.

Only now Damien had the fear of anything happening to him purged. After those first six months of the doc taking a liking to tormenting him and suffering at the hands of the more sadistic guards. He was less afraid, willing to retaliate at their abusive actions. He imagined this kid would too, in time.

"Give it time." He whispered. "You get used to it."

Steve didn't say anything.

Soon the doc and the guards returned their attention to them, Damien and James were escorted off to their own cells while the others had to do the same.

Observation

May 25, 1998

Damien happened upon a chance to get a feel for the Burnside kid not long after the incident in the canteen. All while they were on a work detail under Overseer Sander's watchful eyes. The younger Burnside was somewhat reserved in how he interacted with others around him—dealing with them to the letter of requirement and then nothing more.

He was a loner. Aside from his old man there wasn't anyone he was willing to speak with—and even there, reluctance is visible.

The kid resented his father.

Enjoy the one while you can, kid. Damien thought with some melancholia, remembering his own father—of their fights, pointless arguments—and hating himself deeply. You don't have 'em for very long.

His own self-hatred rose to the surface, and so he forced himself to work more.