The BarCode [Full storyline out now]
Aug 31, 2016 19:56:28 GMT
o0HeaDShoT0o, thatstoo2019man, and 2 more like this
Post by Tommy Angelo on Aug 31, 2016 19:56:28 GMT
The world is spinning too fast,
I'm buying lead Nike shoes
to keep myself tethered
to the days I've tried to lose..
Brotato was walking down the street, earphones on. It was Friday, late in the evening, and there was nothing more he'd like to do than finally be at home - sprawled on the bed, drinking beer and watching the latest episode of Breaking Bad on DVR.
"And if time's elimination, then we got nothing to lose" the song continued, "Please repeat the message - it's the music that we choose."
His night out with friends didn't seem like a very bad idea, but he should've cut back on the costs. The payday was still far away and he was short on money. No matter now, though.
For a brief moment he thought about asking his father for the money, but he pushed that thought away almost immediately. He didn't want to have anything to do with that; who knows where that money came from. He wanted to do everything on his own. Clean. Legit... as he once said, only to be laughed at.
He did manage to do everything on his own though. It wasn't easy at first, but he pulled through. Initially, he shared a flat with other people, but now managed to rent one only for himself. Not much money left after paying said rent, but the option to live by himself without anyone unwillingly walking on him while having a shower was priceless.
Brotato was almost at his apartment building when he remembered something - his fridge was empty. He wondered about going to buy something in the morning, but decided against it - he'd go to get something right now, when he still looked... presentable. He very well knew once he'll get up tommorrow, his hair would look like a tornado has just passed through his place, to say the least. Besides, he liked to stay home on Saturdays, "barricade" in his bed and do nothing. Strange tradition, but a tradition nonetheless.
Holt'z shop was nearby and it was opened 24/7. He might've as well pick some things up now. Mr Holtz won't mind, he might even give him a discount.
"It's the music that we choose, it's the music that we choose..."
Mr Holtz was an old friend of Brotato's family. They knew him even since the days when they still lived in this part of Riverside. Brotato would remember how he would go to shop there with his mother and Mr Holtz would always pick fresh fruit and vegetables from the back.
That was in the past now. Brotato's family moved to the outskirts of Riverside after his mother's untimely death. Now, when he was an adult, Brotato despised his family's business; part of him moved back to this place, mainly becuase he had fond memories of those streets from his childhood, when everything seemed so innocent. Even after all this time, Mr Holtz almost immediately recognized Brotato when he first showed up in his shop as a grown man, with a smile on his face. He would often give Brotato some stuff without receiving payment - those occasions often occured when Brotato ran out of money. He would return it after he received his salary. Mr Holtz was very kind for him.
Then, there was also this other part of Brotato that seemed quite suspicious of buying stuff easily or his ability to rent an apartment nearby almost without trouble - the landlord was alright with almost everything Brotato asked for. There were times when he thought that his father might have had something to do with this, but he tried not to think of that and brush it off as a mere coincidence.
The streets were almost empty, save for a few people likely coming back home, just like Brotato. The song was still playing, earphones on, and he hummed along with it.
"It's the music that we choose..."
"It's the music that we choose" Brotato sang along quietly. "It's amusing that we're Jews" he almost smirked at his own joke. A man was walking towards him in the distance. "It's a nuisance that we're Jews" the man passed by him, shaking his head and Brotato laughed at that.
He was getting close, so he turned the music off and put the earphones in his pocket. He thought about what he should buy for breakfast. It's not like he'd like to go throught the hassle in the morning - he'd prefer something to be quickly thrown together and not lose too much time on preparations...
His thoughts came to a stop when he walked into the shop and saw Mr Holtz lying on a round in a pool of blood. He had three gunshot wound on his chest; his eyes were wide open in shock, the old man probably didn't expect an assault.
Brotato just stood there, dumbfounded. It took a moment for him to realize that he should probably calll the...
"Police!" a loud shriek brought him back to Earth. He quickly turned around to see some woman standing by the open door. She was probably passing by. "A murderer! Someone call the police!"
Brotat rose his hand. "No, you don't understand--!"
She thought that he was going to shoot her too. "Help me! He's going to kill me!"
She took a few steps back, with Brotato following her, trying to explain. "It's not me!"
Someone else came by and the woman attracted his attention, "Help me, he's a murderer! He has a gun!"
Brotato turned to look at that man. He looked way stronger than Brotato and shoved him to the side.
"You're not going anywhere!"
Brotato gave up. He wouldn't talk any sense into those people. Thankfully, they called the police. Brotato knew that he'll be able to explain himself to them, that he was just passing by, going to buy some stuff, after all there was nothing that could pin the murder on him, no evidence...
HEDGEFIELD STATE PRISON - PRESENT DAY
Brotato woke up to the sound of the tap water running. He slowly opened his eyes and looked to the side to see his cellmate, Zyphon, cleaning up his face. Brotato didn't say anything, instead turning to look behind bars. It must have been early in the morning, because the lights were still switched off and other inmates were sleeping.
"Oh, you're awake" Brotato heard and looked to his side again. Zyphon observed him closely, smiling a little. "Good. Waking up on your own means I won't have to help you do that and feel sorry later for interrupting your sleep."
He motioned slightly with his hands. "Come on, get up now. We have to go."
Brotato looked at him, curious. "Zyphon... If I remember your name correctly..."
"That would be me, correct." Zyphon rolled his eyes.
"...well then" Brotato continued, slowly standing up, "I don't even know you. You've said a lot of stuff yesterday that didn't make any sense and didn't even try to explain them." Brotato groaned. "And now this. We're in a cell. Where EXACTLY do you want to go? Don't you know what time it is?"
Zyphon shook his head.
"Bro, bro, bro..." Zyphon sighed. "I know a few details, but I'm not the person to ask for a full picture here. And I know you want to know what the hell's going on. That's what I'm trying do to. We have to go now."
Ignoring Brotato for a moment, he went to the entrance and knocked slightly on the metal bars. Brotato was taken aback after he noticed that, after these two knocks, footsteps could be heard outside. Seconds later, an officer showed up just by the door. He nodded at someone in the courtyard, but Brotato couldn't see that person. Likely another officer. Right that moment, the door to the cell opened up... and Zyphon walked outside. He turned to Brotato, who stood there, completely dumbfounded.
"Unless you don't want to?" Zyphon smiled and winked a little.
Still not knowing what was going on, Brotato followed Zyphon out of the cell and they walked out of the prison block, escorted by one of the officers.
******
The officer, Zyphon and Brotato all walked in silence until they've reached a big, metal door, labeled 'Laundry'. Another officer was standing next to them.
"Uh, what exactly are we supposed to do here?" Brotato asked.
Zyphon threw a glance behind him, stopping for a moment. "You're about to meet some of my friends in there." He then resumed his march. "Hopefully they'll become your friends too."
Brotato was still confused by what was happening. They've reached the door and the officer that led them here turned to look at Zyphon.
"One hour, as usual."
Zyphon nodded slowly. "Sure thing, boss."
He then motioned at Brotato to follow him inside. Once they've entered the room, Brotato was surprised to see two inmates sitting just by the table, possibly playing poker. One of them had a long, black curly hair that almost reached his arms; sporting a not-too-long beard, the man reminded Brotato of one of the characters from the TV show he had never seen, but was aware due to its popularity. Something about The Son of ice and fire. How can one be a son to both of ice and fire, he didn't know.
The other person caused a strange feeling to stir in Brotato. The man had short black hair, deep blue eyes and seemed oddly familiar to him, yet he couldn't exactly tell where he had seen him. He was almost one hundred percent sure they have never met...
But he could swear he saw him somewhere.
"Ah, so you're finally here" the man said. "And we have a guest."
Brotato inhaled deeply. "Can anyone please tell me what is going on in here? I'm really confused."
The man stood up and put his cards down. "Of course. That's why we brought you here. We have a small proposition for you. But, first things first." He motioned at Zyphon.
"You probably already know Zyphon. He's your cellmate, after all."
Brotato nodded slowly. "You can say so."
The man smiled. "Good. This" he pointed in the direction of the Lord Commander lookalike. "This one here is Tormunds."
Tormunds slowly raised his hand. "Hi there, man."
Brotato slowly nodded. "Uhm, hey?" he said, hesitant. "I'm not really sure why are we staging a ceremony here. Nice to meet y'all, but..."
"I know, I know, you don't know what's happening." the man said. "But I'm about to explain all this. See, my name's Harp. And... let's say I'm sort of in charge in this little group of ours."
Upon hearing the name, everything became crystal clear for Brotato. He knew why the man seemed so familiar to him... and suddenly he turned furious.
"Harp?" Brotato repeated, hissing the name through gritted teeth. "Harp Junior, right?"
Zyphon, Tormunds and Harp didn't really mind Brotato's angered tone.
"Of course" replied Harp. "That's why I had you brought here. I have an offer for you."
But he didn't say anything else. Brotato grabbed him by the shirt and violently pulled him forward. Only then Zyphon and Tormunds decided that maybe they should intervene, but Harp waved them off.
"This is fine" he said.
Brotato almost smiled, still angry. "Far from it, believe me."
But Harp was still in a good mood. "I know who you are, we're following the news in prison, you know? Your threats are nothing more than empty words. You wouldn't hurt a fly."
Right this moment, Brotato forcefully pushed Harp aside. Harp lost his balance and fell to the floor.
Brotato was breathing heavily. Harp slowly got up from the floor. "Heh. That all you got?"
Brotato didn't respond. Harpalmost laughed. "A testament for the judicial system in our beautiful country. A man who can't fight properly gets sentenced over illegaly processed evidence and musical preferences."
Brotato slowly came to his senses, even though anger could still be heard in his voice.
"Your father's the DA who led the case against me, you should know!"
"And here's why you're here and I have an offer for you!" Harp replied. "To sort of make it up to you."
RIVERSIDE CORTHOUSE -SEVERAL MONTHS EARLIER
"Order, order!" the judge tried to calm the situation down.
"You Honor" Tom stood up. Brotato was sitting beside him, looking down. "Laws are established for a reason. We must obey all of them, and not simply choose the ones which suit us the most at a given moment."
The judge looked down at him. "We are in courthouse and are very well aware of that fact, Mr Hagen"
Tom nodded. "I agree, your Honor. That's why I cannot understand at all why the DA's office presents the low-level DNA samples as evidence in this case. While they can offer a lead, they are by no means a definitive evidence of one's guilt. Processing these is against FBI protocols due to the fact that they can pin a blame on someone who's not related to the crime at all."
Tom turned to address the jury. "One sample of a low-level DNA can point not just to a one person, but to different people who can be very distant relatives." He took a deep breath. "Sometimes we are not even aware of such connections. I am sure that if a comparison was to be made between the sample collected on the crime scene and the DNA of any person in this room, we would get more than one match."
He pointed at different people in the jury. "That match could lead to you... maybe you... or you... or almost anyone."
Tom then turned his attention to the judge. "FBI set the rules to process the samples for a reason. While the sample matched the DNA of my client, it doesn't prove anything. Besides, as we clearly stated earlier, the gun was found outside in the trash. It goes against any logic for my client to leave the scene, dump the gun, and then return only to be arrested. Thank you." Tom went back to his chair and sat down.
Brotato leaned towards him, whispering. "What do you think?"
Tom slowly shook his head. "How should I know. The jury's always a bunch of CSI-wannabes who don't know how this works" he whispered in return.
The judge nodded and the DA stood up. "Thank you, your Honor"
"The only evidence they have is technically illegal." Tom continued. "Even if the DA himself is running the case, he can't go against FBI protocols. We'll see."
"...and, as it was pointed out, the sample does not meet the standarts" the DA continued, "but it is still a lead. And while it can match many different people, only one of them was present at the crime scene, with the low-level DNA found on the murder weapon. We can't overlook that fact."
He observed the room. "But there's one more fact we'd like to bring up that was missing earlier in the puzzle."
Jury suddenly was flooded with whispers.
"And what would that be, Mr Harp?" asked the judge.
"The DA has one more piece of evidence to present before the jury. A witness whose statement may provide once crucial element of the case - the motive."
Brotato and Tom seemed surprised.
"Motive?" asked Brotato silently.
"Shut up and don't say anything" Tom cut him off. "We don't know what he's going for, we have to see."
Judge also seemed surprised. "Wasn't the DA office saying that the motive was a robbery?"
Harp Sr nodded. "That's what we've initially thought... but we've managed to found an eyewitness who will uncover the true motive. Far worse than we've knew before..."
Brotato looked at Tom, not really sure what to think. Determination was clearly seen on Tom's face, but Brotato could see past that - there must've been something that Tom missed or didn't expect to happen, and now the DA used it to his advantage.
When the witness was brought up before the judge, Brotato immediately recognized the person - although he wasn't sure what the man could know.
"You know him?" Tom asked.
Brotato slowly nodded. "I've met him on the way to the shop. He passed by me, nothing else."
Tom looked confused. "I don't understand. What's the D.A. playing at?"
Harp Sr then proceeded to introduce the witness to everyone, how he was near the crime scene and all that.
"As we've managed to find out" the DA said, "Mr Brotato was usually in debt to Mr Holtz. He would always pay them back, but that month when Mr Holtz was murdered the debt was quite high."
Tom stood up. "Your Honor, what does this have to do with the case? First the DA says the robbery is not a motive, now it's brought back to the table..."
The judge nodded. "That's true. Is there any point to this...? The fact that Mr Brotato was in debt wasn't questioned by any of the sides."
The DA agreed, slightly smiling. Tom was getting more and more suspicious about this ordeal.
"Yes" said the DA, "but the context of that situation was not known earlier. See, Mr Holtz had Jewish heritage."
"Objection" Tom stood up once again. "Once again, what does this have to do with the case?"
"I'm getting to this" the DA interrupted him. He then turned to his witness. "Mr Scott, you passed by the scene and saw Mr Brotato in the area. What did you notice?"
The man nodded slowly. "I, uh... I saw that man" he nodded in the direction of Brotato. "walking down the street. He had earphones on, listening to the music."
"Okay" the DA paced around the room. "Your Honor, after securing all of the evidence, we've established that Mr Brotato was listening to 19/2000"
"Objection!" Tom raised his voice. "I don't know what are we supposed to do here? Are we here to judge my client's taste in music?"
The judge didn't react, Harp Sr was faster. "Mr Scott, when we first talked, you told me that Mr Brotato here was singing... what, exactly?"
The witness, Mr Scott, looked around the room. "It's a nuisance that we're Jews" he repeated.
The jury started to whisper. Only then Tom understood what was happening.
"Oh shit" he whispered. Brotato looked at him, suddenly scared. Tom turned pale.
"Why?" he questioned. "What's going on?"
"Of course, misheard lyrics are simply a joke in normal circumstances" The DA continued. "But here? There's a man who's DNA is partially matched to the one found on the murder weapon. He is also in a regular debt to a person whose heritage he ridcules" the DA raised his voice. "Now the debt is higher than ever and Mr Brotato here may have had conflicted feelings towards a person whose heritage is know for things related to money."
The murmurs among the jury continued.
"He's going for the hate crime" Tom whispered.
"What?" Brotato asked back. "Because of that stupid song? They're not going to believe that. That's stupid"
Tom turned to him. "It's not about being stupid, this is a courthouse! It's about selling them a story, regardless of how stupid it sounds."
Brotato glanced back at the jury. They didn't seem friendly right now.
"And with the omnipresent political correctness, people react negatively to racism" Tom continued. "Essentially... we're fucked."
******
"I've always knew that my father was a dick" said Harp Jr. "But sentencing a person because of the evidence that were barely legal and a stupid song? That's more of a testament of our judicial system than him."
Brotato sneered. "He was partially right." he said. "Since you're all so eager to follow the news... you probably know about my family and what they do."
Harp rolled his eyes.
"Of course" Tormunds joined in. "They're lawful citizens of our country. Not guilty until proved otherwise."
Both Zyphon and Harp laughed.
"Yeah, yeah" Brotato continued. "But it turns out it was my brother who killed Mr Holtz. It turned out he was trying to screw the family out of the... protection money... he was giving them all these years." Brotato thought back to the moment when he shopped there for the first time after moving. "He was always connected to my family. I..." he decided not to say that it was his lawyer who told him that, "...I've found out that they warned him several times, but enough was enough. He was executed by my own brother. That's why the sample was tied back to me... because processing low level DNA samples often leads to mistakes, like identifying closer or very distant relatives."
Zyphon raised his eyebrows. "Are you talking about it just like that in front of us, or am I delusional?" he asked. "Aren't you afraid that we might notify someone about what you've just said?"
Brotato shrugged. "I don't think anyone would believe you" he replied. "And I have a feeling that Harp here won't pass this information forward to his father."
Harp smiled. "How can you be so sure?"
Brotato folded his arms. "I don't know many people who would call their fathers as 'dicks', especially in your current situation."
Everyone, except Brotato, bursted out in laughter.
"I was right" Tormunds stopped laughing after a moment. "He was framed, but he's above the prison average when it comes to intelligence."
Zyphon nodded, still trying to stifle a laugh. "Alright, man, I owe you five bucks."
Brotato was starting to feel tired by the situation. "I'm not interested in what's going between you, and if that's why you've brought me here, then I don't feel like staying here anymore."
Harp stopped him. "Wait, wait, I'm getting down to business." He sat down on the chair casually. "So you're innocent, yet convicted for the murder. Better not disclose that fact, it's essentially a death sentence in this place."
Brotato shrugged him off, thinking about being protected by Carlos, thanks to his family's and Tom's connections. "I think I'll handle it, thanks for the advice."
"But, of course, you can get help. Our help" Harp stressed that last part. "See, I'm a black sheep of my own family. I got tied up in some stuff that might have been connected to the criminal underworld. After I was caught, my father almost had a heart attack." Harp's tone suddenly turned a lot more grim. "The old idiot didn't really realize that I want to do things my way. Crystal clear people reside in Heaven, yet he was trying to exercise this "paradise" in our own home, by any means necessary. I grew fucking tired of being trained like a domestic animal."
He paused for a moment, thinking about something he probably recalled from the past. Brotato didn't know what it was, but Harp seemed distraught by the memory for a moment.
"Right after I was arrested, he announced that he's cutting all his ties with me. I was disinherited and he doesn't acknowledge my existence anymore." Harp continued. "And, of course, he made sure to do that in a public manner. Probably to clean up whatever shitstain on his pristine image I was. His words."
Brotato frowned. "If what you're saying is true, then what's all this?" he motioned at the place. "I imagine that the special treatment you're getting - having your friends walk out of their cells before the day starts for your little errands wouldn't be possible without someone's intervention."
Harp laughed once again. "And that's true... partially. See, I've managed to convince everyone that all my father did was a publicity stunt - he's a DA after all. They still think that I might destroy their lives through my father... think about the prison staff for example" he winked. "The only ones who know that I don't have any connections with my father are in this room."
Brotato huffed. "And yet you've decided to trust me with that information?"
Suddenly, Harp picked up a knife from the pocket and aimed it at Brotato.
"And do you plan on informing anyone about this?"
Brotato didn't feel in danger at all. He was more surprised at the fact that a prisoner managed to keep a knife on himself. After a brief moment he did realize that it was the prisoner whom the staff considered dangerous since his father was DA.
"If I won't have a reason to do that, then no" Brotato replied, his voice cool.
Harp observed him for a moment and put the knife away.
"Alright then." He stretched his fingers. "See, since my father basically hates me and would definitely do anything to make our every connection disappear, there's not much I can do to make a move on him. Except for one thing."
He then motioned in the direction of other two prisoners.
"As you already know, this guy here is Tormunds."
Tormunds stood up. "Thievery. Quite a long sentence, actually."
Brotato winked at him. "What were you stealing?"
Tormunds shrugged at that. "Nothing of importance, really."
Harp joined him, patting Tormunds on the back. "Don't be so modest, man. I'm always impressed when you talk about that."
Tormunds cleared his throat. "Bank of America. Around 12 million dollars."
Brotato was shocked. "Holy shit, man! But that's..." he wondered for a moment. "That's impossible. That would be all over the news, especially after financial crisis. The Bank was under fire from the media and no one noticed that one?"
Tormunds chuckled a little. "The case was kept low-profile because of the very reason you've mentioned. And I didn't steal it all at once, it took me six years to do that. I was in charge of deposits in one of the Bank's locations. I mostly took away several dollars here and there... no one noticed that at all. Only after the reports detailing our financial flow for the past decade was ordered, people noticed that those small amounts of money that went missing amounted to several millions of dollars. There was an internal investigation and... well, here I am" he announced, proud.
There was one thing that Brotato wondered about, however. "Okay... but what happened to the money? Did you blew it all before an arrest?"
Tormunds shook his head. "Nope. And the Bank didn't get their money back." Brotato was confused by that answer.
"No? Where's the money, then?"
Tormunds didn't reply; instead, he grinned widely.
Brotato nodded. "I see." Everyone in the room laughed. Harp then turned his attention to Zyphon.
"Our dear Z here is a good ol' murderer"
Zyphon stepped forward. "Well, not exactly."
Harp chuckled. "Right, I stand corrected. An arsonist-turned-murderer."
Brotato observed the man for a moment. "What exactly did you do?"
Zyphon outstretched his arms. "I had anger management problems. I had a job at CVS Health, working my ass off for days to meet a deadline for a specific pharmaceutical project. The results were impressive for the team, but my supervisor... Let's just say he wasn't a right person for that position. He was essentially dragged to the company by someone a lot higher than any of us. You know, nothing worse than a rich kid who thinks he knows everything."
Brotato slowly nodded. "I can imagine."
Zyphon sat on a chair, rubbing his temples. "After the project was done, he simply... discarded... it...." Zyphon started hissing through gritted teeth.
Tormunds slowly rubbed Zyphon's arm. "Calm down, buddy, it's all fine."
Harp decided to continue. "Well, what our friend meant to say... after his boss threw his project out of the window for no apparent reason - or should I say, he thought that he had a better, brilliant idea and decided to make Zyphon come up with a solution to basically start the project from the scratch with the inclusion of his boss stupid ideas - Zyphon basically knocked him out cold with the file in his hand, threw away the still-lit cigar into a bookshelf--"
"The fucker just loooooved to brag about those cigars" Zyphon interrupted them, still angry.
"--right" Harp continued. "and left the room, but not before locking the door to his boss's office. There was a fire which spread across the office space. No one was harmed. Except for his boss, of course, who turned into a coal-like version of himself."
Harp then walked towards Brotato.
"What these men have in common was the man who prosecuted their cases."
Brotato furrowed his eyebrows. "Let me guess... Mr Harp Senior?"
"Bingo!" Harp snapped his fingers. "Basically, I'm making a group of people who had to deal with him and were put behind bars. Because, you see, nothing gets my father more angry - and raises the suspicion of all sorts of media - than his own son associating himself with the people he's sending to prison."
Brotato felt like he knew where this was going. He almost had an answer to Harp's proposal. The thing was, before he managed to respond, Harp said something else that send the shiver down his spine.
"With us, we can make it through under my father's fake protection." Harp said, trying to encourage Brotato. "There's more than me, Zyphon and Tormunds in our group, but that should be enough for now for you to know. What we're doing is establishing a group that can make it through life in here, safely from the grip of types like Carlos."
Brotato was slightly taken aback. "And, uh... who's Carlos?"
Harp's tone turned a lot more serious in an instant. "He's a member of one of the Riverside crime families. An enforcer of sorts. All brute force, but also a hell lot of intelligent. He was also prosecuted by my father, but... he declined any sort of association with me before I've even reached out to him. Now we're sworn enemies."
In that moment, Brotato realized how much the situation was fucked up. He was Zyphon's cellmate... Zyphon was a friend of Harp... but Brotato was supposed to be protected by Carlos...
"Listen, uh..." Brotato was wondering how to get out of this. "Thank you very much about your offer, but do you mind if I think all this through for a day or two?" Realizing how stupid that sounds, he quickly added, "It's not like I don't want an alliance, that's truly appreciated, but I've been here for mere several days and don't really know much about living around here."
To his surprise, Harp didn't mind that at all. "Sure thing. I get that. If you'll think about it, let Zyphon know. He'll know how to reach me."
He looked outside through the window. "It's almost dawn. They'll be lining up everyone soon."
Zyphon nodded at Harp. "You're going?"
Harp shook him off. "Nah, we'll stay here with Tormunds. It's our laundry duty today. Officers will let us stay."
He looked at the other two prisoners. "You two, however, should go. Better not to let any other inmates know we can roam the place as much as we please."
******
After returning to their cell, Brotato and Zyphon didn't get much sleep. Mere twenty minutes later the prison day was about to begin. Everyone's cells were checked.
Brotato didn't discuss anything with Zyphon about Harp's offer and Zyphon didn't push him. After the prisoners were lined up outside their cells, however, Brotato decided to inquire about something that was on my mind.
"Your group was sort of offering protection from dangerous types like Carlos, I assumed" Brotato whispered to Zyphon. "But is there anything else I should be worried about? Apart from the officer that almost cracked my skull on the first day."
Zyphon chuckled. "Yeah, Officer Crack. That name suits him. Better stay out of his way."
He looked around the block.
"There are many twisted people, but the ones you should watch out are these."
He then nodded at a black-skinned man, one floor below them.
"This is Dark Fox" Zyphon said. "If he doesn't do anything to you on your first day, then you're safe."
Brotato observed the man. He didn't look like much. "Why? And who is he?"
Zyphon shifted the weight from one leg to another. "He's a... I'd say a pimp."
Brotato quickly turned to look at him. "A what?"
Zyphon observed Fox closely. "He provides a service. When a prisoner... or even someone from the prison staff - don't give me that look!" Zyphon hissed. "...has a need, Fox provides them a person on whom they can fullfil their fantasies."
Brotato seemed disgusted. "And people 'work' for Fox willingly?!" he asked, shocked.
Zyphon shook his head. "The way it works is that Fox chooses his prostitutes from the guys who arrive here. He will always choose the ones he needs and approach them on their first day. If they agree, then that's that. If they don't... While Fox and Carlos don't have a formal alliance, Carlos works as a guy who, uh, applies pressure to the newbies to make them work for Fox. See, with Fox's prostitutes satisfying the needs of officers, Carlos can call upon them for a favor. That's how they work... even if Carlos himself treats Fox like nothing more than a piece of shit."
Brotato still felt nauseos. "This is horrible."
Zyphon eyed him. "This is a PRISON, you better get used to it."
He then nodded at a blonde guy with a beard in the distance. "Carlos doesn't work alone, of course. That's his right hand, Rock."
Brotato looked at the man. The expression on his face seemed... nice? "I can't imagine that guy with this Carlos guy, he looks okay."
Zyphon laughed. "That's where you're wrong. Rock is a serial killer. Convicted for the murderer of, if I recall, twelve people. There are also six victims whose bodies were never found, but they are presumed to have been killed by him."
Brotato was stunned at that revelation. "He doesn't seem like it. Who was he?"
"A teacher. Isn't that obvious?" Zyphon tried to crack a joke, but Brotato didn't laugh. "And he didn't let go of his habits, even here."
Brotato still observed Rock closely. "What do you mean by that?"
Zyphon nodded at the direction of their cell. "What do you think had happened to my previous cellmate? Here's a hint: he didn't finish serving his sentence."
Zyphon frowned. "But that's nothing in comparison to the worst man in this prison."
His tone seemed strange and Brotato didn't know what to make out of it. "There's someone worse than Rock?"
"Oh yes" Zyphon nodded. "His name is Sos. He's a regular 'client' of Fox. He's not a talkative person and, truth be told, almost everyone tries to avoid him."
Brotato frowned. "What did he do?"
Zyphon shrugged. "We don't know. There was nothing we could find out. Everything about him is confidential. What we DO know is the fact that, upon his arrival, the prison security has increased."
"Where is this Sos? I'd better know what he looks like"
Zyphon slowly nodded forward. "He's right here."
Brotato looked in that direction. Sos was across the gap, on the same floor, his cell in front of their own. What Brotato found unnerving was that he was staring at the two of them all the time, his expression blank.
"Should we be worried?" Brotato asked. Sos was still paying close attention to them.
"How the hell should I know" Zyphon sighed.
******
Later that day, prisoners were let out on the yard, going about their everyday routines.
Rock was sitting on the bench reading a newspaper, while Carlos was lifting weights. Rock sighed after reading an article.
"Did you notice that the presidental conventions are almost like wrestling as of these days?" asked Rock.
Carlos stopped for a moment. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"I'm serious." Rock proceeded to explain. "Say, a candidate walks into the hall, talks some shit to the microphone, there are hundreds of idiots holding pennants and, after the candidate accents a Very Important Word in their speech, those idiots start swinging the pennants and scream almost like zombies, "HILAAAARY, HILAAARY!", then cry, moan in ecstaty and salute, while the candidate looks on with a serious look on their face, observing their 'arena' and ending the speech in a solemn tone with, 'FOR AMERICA!' while the crowd once again starts waving stuff and yelling, 'DONAAALD, DONAAALD!'"
He exhaled deeply. Carlos looked at him, almost laughing and resuming his lifts. A vein in Rock's temple looked like it was about to pop.
"Fuck" cursed Rock. "I'm waiting for the day they'll remake conventions into a show like Smackdown. Hilary will come out with "You can't see me" in the backround, then starts speaking but is crushed by Trump who jumps from the ceiling. He'll proclaim his victory, but only then Bernie will come in, like, "That's the sound of da police!" and smack Trump down, while Obama will count down and say it's a knockdown. Hashtag Murica!" Rock finished his rant.
Carlos put down the weights. "I imagine it won't come down to this. Besides, conventions don't bother me that much."
Rock stared at him incredulously. "You don't care about the future of our beautiful country?"
Carlos shrugged his arms. He then stood up and stretched a little. "That's something different. Conventions are there to sell shit to people and get them to vote, nothing else."
He then roared after all the physical exercises. "What does bother me is that our country has more than three hundred million citizens and we're stuck in a choice between a male Kim Kardashian and a woman who disregards national security. Worse, one of them will soon have access to nuclear pass codes."
Rock folded the newspaper and it seemed like he wanted to discuss the matter further, but Fox interrupted their little banter.
"What do you want, Fox?" asked Carlos, not really in a mood to hear shit from him.
Fox scratched his head. "Business as usual. One of the selected guys seems to have a problem with joining my small enterprise."
Carlos sighed. "Rock will take care of this as soon as possible, okay? Besides, he seems to be in a mood for a little fight."
Rock relaxed on the bench. "Ha ha, very funny, Carlos." He then turned to Fox. "I'll do it later today, worry not."
Fox nodded. "Good. And there's one more thing." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but decided to reconsider. "I decided to ask you to reconsider your decision to put one of the guys off limits."
Carlos put his shirt on. "You know what?" he asked Rock. "I think you won't have to wait until the afternoon. Looks like Fox want to take a beating right now, since he doesn't seem to understand that my 'no' is final."
Rock put the newspaper down. "I'd gladly oblige that."
Fox new he had to act fast. "I saw the guy today during the morning cell inspection. He seems to have a great body sturcture, he'd be a hit! And you knwo that would open a lot of doors and possibilities" he stressed that last part.
Carlos lost his patience. "I've said no! I'm going to go to talk to him today. The guy's joining me and that's that. End of the story!"
Fox was irritated. "Oh yeah?" he asked mockingly. "Then what the hell is he doing now, hanging out with Zyphon out of all people, huh?!" he then pointed them at a place far away across the yard. Both Carlos and Rock noticed Zyphon with the man who looked an awful lot like Brotato.
"What the fuck..." hissed Carlos. He started walking to the place. Rock soon followed him.
"Guys! What about...?" he shouted, but Rock forcefully pushed him away.
"Out of my way" he fired back. Both of them left Fox behind.
In no time, they've made it across the place. Zyphon was talking about something with Brotato when he felt that he was being shoved away. He fell to the ground.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Carlos asked him, angry.
Brotato took a step back. He looked at the men who stood by him. He recognized Rock, while the second guy must have been...
"Carlos, I think you should keep your nose out of my business" Zyphon replied.
Seconds later, Harp and Tormunds made their way into the scene. Brotato realized that this is not going to end well...
"What's going on?" asked Harp. "We have a deal, Carlos! We're not crossing paths with one another!"
Rock stepped forward, a little too close to Harp's liking. "Tell that to your little friend here. Stay away from Brotato and no one will get hurt."
Tormunds looked at him like he was an idiot. "I think Brotato can speak for himself, fuck."
Rock turned in one swift motion and grabbed Tormunds. "Don't make me take your cigarettes and then put them out on your eye, alright?"
"Brotato's with me" Carlos said in a firm tone. "He is and will be a part of my group."
Harp gave Brotato a look. "What?!" he almost yelled, but Brotato didn't respond.
"Like it or not, Carlos, Brotato's my cellmate" Zyphon fired back.
Carlos's eyes went wide. He then understood something. "So that's what you did after his arrival" he then looked at Harp. "You made them put Brotato in a cell with Zyph. Do you really want to start a war?!"
Harp didn't budge. "Shut up, Carlos. You're not the only one who gets to decide what happens here!"
Carlos swung his fist at Harp, but Zyphon managed to grab him in a last possible second. He wasn't strong enough to overpower him, though, so Harp tried to help him by throwing Carlos to the ground. Tormunds decided to use the occasion and smashed his fist on Rock's face, but the serial killer quickly regained his composure and pushed Tormunds away. The prisoners nearby realized what was happening and gathered around in a circle, shouting 'Fight! Fight!' In the ensuing chaos, someone - maybe it was Zyphon or Carlos - shoved Brotato quite hard and caused him to fall down on his face. Brotato's head was hurting like hell and he sensed that he might have a bruise on his forehead.
He tried to get up when someone reached out to him with his hand. Brotato gladly accepted him and stood up. Only then he realized that the man who helped him was Sos.
Brotato wanted to say thanks, but didn't manage to utter a word. Sos gave him exactly the same look as in the morning. He then simply walked away.
"Disperse! Disperse!" prison officers finally arrived at the scene. The crowd was slowly moving away from the place. Crackman was there...
They've managed to separate the inmates.
"Alright, motherfuckers" Crackman spat out. "Who started all this?"
Everyone answered him at the same time. Chaos again.
"Shut up!" Crackman yelled. "I ask you again... who did this?!"
Harp knew that he was fucked. Not because of the fight - he was fucked in general. He did the only thing he thought about in the moment.
"He did!" he pointed in the direction of Brotato.
"What?!" he yelled, surprised.
But Crackman noticed him standing there, with a bruise on his head. "Oh, hello there... Brotato."
He then nodded and the officers let everyone free, instead going for Brotato.
"Well then, Mr Brotato... solitary it is."
Then, they dragged Brotato away. After a small moment, Carlos glanced at Harp.
"This isn't over, you shit." He and Rock departed the place.
Tormunds looked at Harp, surprised. "Why did you do that?"
Harp was furious. "What else could I do?! If that's true and Brotato's with them..." his mind was racing. "He fucking knows I'm not protected at all! Do you even realize what will happen if Carlos finds out about this?!"
Tormunds stared at him incredulously. "So you thought that Brotato being locked up is a good idea?!"
"At least he won't tell Carlos anything for the time being!" argued Harp.
"And what happens next?!" Tormunds questioned. "It's a fucking solitary, Crack will torture him as much as he pleases!"
"Tormunds is right" Zyphon joined in, massaging is arm after a fight. "I dare say that after Brotato walks out of there... you've just given him a reason to tell Carlos everything."
Harp was breathing heavily, looking at the prison building. "We'll think of something. Besides, Brotato seemed decent. Maybe we'll talk him out of that."
Tormunds huffed. "I don't think decency lasts long when you're locked up."
******
Crackman personally led Brotato to his temporary cell in a secluded part of prison.
"I've had to use an apartment in the city, you know?" he hissed. Brotato didn't reply. "I know who you are and what your family does. Don't think I'll let this one go... not after what you did to me."
Brotato truly had no idea what he was talking about, but he realized that Tom must've passed forward the information about his first-day beating. Whatever they did, Crackman seemed pissed.
They've made it to the cell, but Crackman didn't just lock Brotato up. He walked inside, too. Only then he closed the door. Brotato observed him, seeing that Crackman picked up his wooden bat.
"I'm so going to enjoy this one" Crackman grinned.
END OF EPISODE 2