He walked into cell 1317 with personal belongings distributed uniformly by the prison. Unlike the MCC, the cell door here is an iron fence with no privacy at all. The only advantage is that it is arranged in a single cell, so there is no need to grab the upper and lower bunks.
In the cell across the narrow aisle, two white prisoners blew their whistle across the fence, and one of the guys with a goatee even took off his pants to masturbate, while swearing at him.
He paid no attention to him, and looked up at his new home.
The space in the cell is cramped. On the right is a single bed covered with sky blue sheets. The stainless steel washstand, toilet, and long table top fixed to the wall occupy most of the remaining space. The mirror is completely embedded in the wall, even if it is broken, it is difficult to remove the fragments.
Unidentified stains can be seen everywhere on the wall, like mottled abscesses on the skin of a corpse. He took a closer look at one of the most conspicuous dark brown stains, and made sure that it was a mass of blood stains that were not stale. Maybe it was still fresh blood a few days ago. Following this line of thought, the grayish-yellow stain next to it is likely to be someone's brain.
He looked away and began to search around in the cell. Almost every prisoner will have some small personal items. Sometimes they forget to take them away if they go too quickly. Of course, they will never need them again whether they are released from prison or died. He hopes to find some small things that seem inconspicuous but can come in handy at critical moments.
Two pornographic magazines, a few stamps, a low-quality lighter, and even a small half pack of damp cigarettes. But these are useless, he found a pen without a cap and slipped it into his sock.
In the gap between the foot of the bed and the wall, he pulled out some fragments of limbs-human limbs-a small end of the finger, and a small patch of bloody scalp with a bunch of curly hair. Due to the low temperature in winter, they have not had time to completely decompose.
If these are the relics of the former tenant, he obviously had a painful journey on the shuttle bus to hell, and the guards responsible for cleaning the scene were really perfunctory. He thought about it, and put the debris without changing his face. Throw it into the toilet and flush away.
Then he shakes the quilt off the bed and gets in.
The goatee on the other side screamed even more happily, and the semen sprayed on the aisle floor, and immediately a prison guard walked over and yelled, dragged him out to force the floor to be cleaned-with his own tongue.
The prisoners who saw this scene screamed and laughed, as if the group was enjoying a comedy show-prison life was boring and people had to find ways to have some fun for themselves.
When the wind was released in the afternoon, prison guard Simon saw Marvo’s two men sneak into cell 1317.
He is very aware of the black fat man's vice: like to torture newcomers. It's more than just beating and rape. Malvo enjoys the whole process of the newcomers from nervousness, anger, resistance, fear, collapse, begging for mercy, to humiliation and numb acceptance, and finally throws them into the trash can like a broken puppet. inside.
Generally speaking, prison guards who have received benefits will open their eyes and close their eyes, as long as he doesn't play too high-profile. But this time, Simon hesitated for a while, thinking about whether to step forward and help the newcomer. This is only the first day, these impatient bastards! The young guard thought gloomily.
At this time, the voice of his colleague Joe stopped him from coming forward.
"Come and help, Simon." Joe said.
"what's up?"
"A scumbag who knows nothing about life and death, we have to deal with him severely." Joe told Simon that a prisoner took advantage of the gap to attack the new female nurse. Although he did not succeed, she was scared enough, and the guards next to him immediately He rushed forward to stop him, but he threw a whole body of feces. "The nurse ran away crying. It's a pity that there was a young girl here..." Joe said regretfully and annoyed. "Eric suggested using a'bag'."
"Bag" refers to the fact that the prison guards put on a bag with two holes dug to cover their heads and faces, and surround a prisoner to be beaten, so that even if the prisoner is beaten to death, they cannot contact the lawyer to identify and sue the perpetrator. .
Simon was so absent-mindedly pulled away by his colleagues.
So, a scene that he didn't see and expected happened immediately-the two big-waisted, round-the-clock gangsters who had been on the street all the year round were beaten out of cell 1317 with swollen noses and splashes of blood.
After one of them rolled on the floor twice, he bumped into a pair of long legs in high-end sneakers. The other side stepped on his phalanx unceremoniously. He grunted, and fiercely pierced the iron drill he held in the other hand towards the opponent. In the next moment, the rusty iron rod had already got out of his control, nailing his forearm firmly to the floor, as if a pin had pierced through the insect specimen!
He let out a scream. When I looked up and saw the opponent's face clearly, the scream turned into a terrified pleading: "Forgive me,'Godfather'..."
"Not everyone is qualified to call me that, child." The brown-haired and blue-eyed man said nonchalantly, with a kind of tough and casual grace that belongs to the ruler. "Tell Malvo, he has to give me an explanation. ."
Another of Malvo’s men crawled off the ground, leaving the hapless ghost wailing between the floor and the iron drill. The prisoners who were keen to watch the show did not make a sound, and even the guards on patrol wandered away, seeming to have no idea what was going on here.
The brown-haired man's gaze stretched along the blood stains on the floor into cell 1317, showing a slightly interested look, and stepped in. His walking posture is upright and solemn, like a high-class person who has been well-educated since he was a child. The orange-red prison clothes and sneakers wear the smell of suits and leather shoes.
Sure enough, he recognized him at first sight: Timothy Berardi. His appearance is eight or nine points similar to Alessio, especially the gray-blue pupil color of the cloudy sea surface, as if it were tuned from the same grid of the paint tray. If it weren't for the oppressive atmosphere of someone who looked older and more mature, they would have been twin brothers.
Timothy stood still in front of the finale and looked at it from head to toe, as if savoring the beauty of the newcomer. A few seconds later, he smiled arrogantly and courteously: "You have a good skill, but if you want to live here, your skill is not enough. You will know soon."
Killing is like a cub that has been invaded by predators, and assumes a posture that is deeply guarded and ready to counterattack at any time. In Timothy’s eyes, it is the kind of difficulty that is "somewhat tricky, but can be done with a little effort"-it will not be strong enough to make him feel threatened, nor weak enough to be uninteresting. It is exactly what he has in mind. That kind of difficulty.
"Listen, I don't want to offend anyone, I just want to be quiet."
He heard the newcomer say sternly and cautiously, with a meaningful smile: "That's not easy, especially for you... Here, the first thing you have to learn is to stand in line and don't stand in the wrong line." After that, he turned and walked out of the cell.
Malvo's men were still lying on the ground groaning, blood wet the half-length prison shirt. Timothy frowned slightly, as if looking at an ugly pattern on the floor, and said flatly: "I'll spare your life. Next time you come to trouble him, don't rub my trouser legs again."
The eyes of the onlookers looking at cell 1317 suddenly changed slightly: They thought that the "godfather" had done it to show the protection of this kid, but now it seems that it was all because of the unlucky ghost on the floor. No eyes. In other words, this newcomer is isolated and powerless, and what's more terrible is that he has a coveted appearance-it is simply a Christmas dinner that has arrived in advance.
If Marvo dare not act rashly because he is afraid of the "Godfather" warning, maybe I will be able to take the lead... Many people think about it eagerly.
At dinner, this undercurrent of irritability has accumulated to the limit. When he came to the dining area with a plate of stewed potatoes and smoked fish sandwiches without beef, a prisoner suddenly stretched his foot and tripped him when he passed by.
He staggered and was immediately caught by several arms.
"Let go!" He shouted, struggling hard, like a hiker entangled in countless vines.
"Why, I just helped you, shouldn't you say thank you!" A tall and thin prisoner with short blond hair and short hair leaned in triumphantly, spitting into his dinner plate, "It seems you are treating us I’m not very satisfied with the welcome banquet here. How about some protein?"
"Please, Basil, there is no protein in your saliva. It is HIV. Why don't you wear a condom on your tongue?" Another prisoner pretended to complain.
"Fuck!" Basil laughed and scolded, "I don't know what Chinaman is particular about. It is subtle and subtle. Who is like you, the sound of the bed can be heard even in the next area."
He smashed his elbow to the ribs of the prisoner behind him, took the opportunity to break free from the pull, and turned and left.
"Where do you want to go? Your dinner hasn't finished yet." Basil grabbed his arm and pinched his hip with the other hand. "Sit down, little bitch."
The eyelids drooped quietly. If anyone could see the dark eyes under his slender eyelashes, they would find that the quiet gaze inside suddenly became as cold and sharp as a blade.
He picked up the dinner plate, excited all the prisoners present with a docile appearance, and then smashed the stainless steel plate-together with the junk food in it, on Basil's face!
Basil let out a scream, he involuntarily bent down halfway, and covered his face with his hands, blood and butter poured out from his fingers. He coughed in pain and spit out a bloody tooth.
After the prisoners were shocked, they became agitated, and several hungry tigers rushed towards the final. He quickly turned his body sideways, and hit an attacker's nose with a punch, suddenly splashing blood.
A sharp police whistle passed.
Simon and two other prison guards rushed over at the same time: "Stop it now, otherwise it will be locked up!"
This trick works very well for prisoners. No one wants to stay in a small black room with a bed and toilet of only three square meters for ten and a half days. There is no wind, no pastime, no one to speak, loneliness and claustrophobia will make it. People go crazy.
The prisoners let go before the baton fell, and retreated angrily into the crowd.
Simon looked at the leader of the troubled group, his nose was crooked, his face was bloody, and his teeth were grinning in pain.
"The son of a bitch, he broke my nose and a tooth!" Basil cried vaguely.
"You should be thankful that it is not your second child." Simon sneered, "This can teach you a lesson, knowing that not all men can be strong."
The captain of the prison guard Eric looked at the banknotes and led Basil to the infirmary, while at the same time he told Simon: "This new kid is also a thorn. He has to be wild."
Simon hesitated and said, "Elvis, as a punishment for beating, you have to drag all the aisles on this floor after dinner and bring the tools to Wilson."
Eric rolled his eyes as he walked: the punishment was ridiculously slight. But for Simon's help to "set up the bag" today, he also tacitly agreed.
He glanced at Simon quietly, his tone was polite, and even a little grateful: "Yes, sir."
His left back looks slender and straight under the light, the curves from back, hips to legs are smooth and perfect, and the walking posture is elegant and coordinated, but it exudes an ascetic atmosphere.
"Look at that damn good look, it makes you want to fuck him!" a prisoner whispered.
Someone immediately echoed: "Do you want to do it?"
"Why not, this guy owes a fuck."
"At least today Basil don't want to take the lead, he is really powerful." Someone laughed with a crushed throat.
The light tubes in the aisle exudes a pale light, reflecting on the gray floor and the iron fence with peeling paint, cold and miserable.
The detergent and the bucket were leaning at their feet, and they were pressed on the floor by several sturdy black men. One prisoner cut his hands behind his back, the other pressed against the back of his neck, and two clasped his legs tightly so that they could be separated further, and resolutely stopped any threatening resistance. Action, smoothly take off the pants to the knee. They are already very proficient in this play.
"This guy is superb! Look at this ass! And the line of the waist!" A prisoner gasped in excitement, his rough palm touched the opponent's round and cocked buttocks, and he couldn't wait to poke his fingers in. "Damn it, fucking!" Tight!"
The other kicked on the finished lower abdomen, "Relax, bitch!"
He coughed violently, and his smooth back undulated helplessly like a small boat in the wind and waves, which aroused the lust of the perpetrator.
"Are you an idiot, Kinig, you made him tighter! Fuck, just go in like this and you must peel off."
The hand on the back of the neck was slightly slack because of distraction, and he suddenly broke away from the clamp. He quickly grabbed the detergent beside him, unscrewed the bottle cap, and poured it on the face of the man behind him.
"My eyes—" the man wailed, covering his eyes.
"What a Hummer! Guys, show him something awesome!"
Several people rushed up, and one of the prisoners drew a picture with a broomstick, "How about this?"
"good idea!"
Shaqing let out a wailing like a caught beast, and struggling frantically, a metal chain fell out of the collar of the prisoner's shirt.
"—Wait!" A man's voice suddenly came from the shadow of the aisle, with a resonant nasal sound, which was highly recognizable.
The dark body like a wolf-stick iron tower walked out of the darkness, his rough and rigid features were exposed to the light, and his bald head and neck were covered with tattoos. He had been observing and admiring the occurrence of violence in the dark just now. If it weren't for the accidental pendant, he planned to wait until the minions of the prey were almost torn down by his subordinates before he went out himself.
The guy with the broom was so blood boiled that he stopped for a while and was picked up by his boss and threw it directly on the wall. The wolf stick squatted down, and his thick fingers pinched the metal pendant on the neck of the cracker. After looking closely, he asked in a deep voice, "Where did this thing come from?"
He glared at him, his eyes stubborn and fierce, "Fuck you!" he said.
The wolf club smiled: "Be brave in front of me, you can't afford the consequences, small things." He approached half a step, rubbing the tall crotch on the opponent's face, and through the thick cloth, he could still see the organs inside. The size is astonishing as a torture instrument, "I can guarantee that you don't want to taste the taste of being strengthened by the'gun barrel'."
The newcomer paled as he expected, and the corners of his mouth were still stubbornly pressed, but the eyelashes trembled slightly to reveal his inner fear. The wolf club rubbed his face with his thumb satisfied: "To be honest, I'll consider letting you go."
"... It's from the family." The other party replied in a low voice as if he had finally compromised.
"A lie, your surname is Li!" The wolf club lashed him in the face threateningly with a "barrel".
"That's my mother's surname. She left my father when I was less than two years old. His surname was Seville." Memorial."
"Seville..." The wolf club narrowed his eyes. "Is it Sean Seville? I remember he has only one son, who looks a lot like him."
He immediately replied: "That's my half-brother, and his name is Shanier."
"Unexpectedly, Sean gave this thing to an illegitimate child." The wolf stick thought for a while, and when he got up, he also pulled up the finale, watching him quickly put on his prison pants, "Your father is a blood gang member, you Yes. In this prison, I can cover you, but one day, when I need you to take out this chain card and all the related things, if you dare to say half a'no', I will let you live It's better to die, do you hear?"
Don't look away, half resisting, half afraid.
The wolf stick pressed against him tightly, pushing him against the wall.
"Got it!" He said reluctantly.
"Good boy." The wolf stick sniffed the smell on his body, couldn't help sticking out his tongue, and licked his face very erotically. "From the first time I saw you, I wanted to press you down. Fucked fiercely on the bed, but... I usually don’t attack members of the gang. You have to stand on your ground and don’t make me angry."
"Okay," he turned his head and said to his opponents, "this is your new brother, if you can't learn to respect him, I will teach you."
Several prisoners at the scene expressed that the boss's decision was very wise, and he was absolutely serious about implementing it. By the way, he enthusiastically invited the newly-baked brothers to enjoy the private cigarettes and marijuana.
"But I have to mop the floor." He said innocently.
"—Leave us here!" Kinig, who kicked him just now, immediately picked up the mop, and the other three hurried to clean up the overturned bucket and detergent.
The wolf stick held the dead waist and stroked him and gave him an advice in a way of sexual harassment: "Be careful of that fat man named Marvo. He is as abnormal as his body fat. Don’t forget that the lame help is our blood. The enemy of the gang."
"Where's'Godfather'?" he asked, "He lives next door to me."
"He's relatively low-key, but he is powerful, and his methods are fierce. He hates traitors in particular. The cell you lived in was Peppa's. He was Timothy's confidant. Later Timothy found out that he was on the company's accounts. Fake, just... Trust me, you don’t want to know the details."
I have flushed the remnants of the details into the toilet, and said quietly.