Chapter 7
SINN'OUS
Opportunities are few and far between. In such a crowded environment every fleeting second of opportunity is one you have to tackle to the ground and beat into submission. If you give even an inch you will miss it.
Sinn'ous isn’t one to pass on a beautifully laid out chance. So when Jasper leaves the cafeteria alone, he is riding the boy’s shadow hard.
His prey ascends the stairs of A-Wing to their cells with Sinn'ous five steps behind him. The boy hasn’t so much as glanced over his shoulder once, he has no surroundings awareness whatsoever. And Sinn'ous is all for it.
The boy enters his shared cell and Sinn'ous stops three cells down, leaning back against the railing. His instincts tell him to wait, he’s not sure why but they have never led him astray before, so he listens to them now.
He passes the time by people watching. Eyes roaming the lingering inmates who don’t have an assigned prison job or have an assigned rest day. There aren’t many, a dozen or so, but it’s something to occupy the time.
Guards march out of the locked side door, passing through the Wing and into the corridor, doing their rounds between Wings.
He takes gratification in how grossly understaffed this minimum security prison is.
It gives him all the access in the world to kill and relish in it.
Taking his time to savour every second he has someone pinned under him gasping their last breaths.
To see their eyes roll and their pupils dilate in death.
Praise Satan.
Moving in on his prey’s cell Sinn'ous pauses in the open door. Jasper is curled up under the thin sheet, chest rising and falling in sleep. His back to the wall, his features soft and slack, hair mushed against the paper-thin pillow.
Sinn'ous steps inside, his shoes landing in a way that carries no sound. And with the utmost care he sits down on the edge of the bunk by the boy’s hip, his eyes never leaving the flickering eyelids of dreams racing.
Unable to resist the pull he delicately runs his hands over the slender body, brows drawn tight. The heat and softness is mesmerising. Even while there is no blood pressed into each pore or crevice in the skin.
The sheet is sliding down his prey’s form before he has the chance to control his actions. Revealing more until the entirety of his upper half is on display, granted it is still covered in a prison shirt. But that too can be remedied.
So defenceless. So clueless. His prey is perfect.
And the skin, Sinn’ous’s fingers brush over the smooth tanned arm, while his other hand lifts the shirt’s hem.
He clicks his tongue quietly when the near smooth abdomen is unclothed.
There is no overabundance of fat, no heavy muscles, only the ideal combination to create padding.
Like the curve of his hip and ass. The exact right amount.
Sinn'ous bites back a groan at the plump ass, it would over flow his hands should he grab it. Each globe behind the orange pants are teasing to be touched, to be gripped and rolled in his palms.
Blinking back the weird impulse, Sinn'ous stands, throwing the sheet back over Jasper a little more hastily than he meant to.
He’s briefly aware of the shuffling clothes of passing inmates, they neither stop nor pause as they hustle past. He ignores them, hovering in limbo between the bunk and the door, his mind lurching.
What was that?
He hadn’t once looked at places his razor would look the best sinking into. Hadn’t once tracked an expanse of skin a Satanic symbol would stand out the best on when it’s carved into flesh.
Sinn'ous leaves the cell on a silent curse. He’s not sure what he wanted to accomplish there. So he promptly shoves what happened aside. He’ll rehash it later when he lies in his bunk and sleep alludes him.
On the ground floor he grabs a junkie by the scruff of his neck, spinning him to get face to chest. The thin inmate is scratching his arms of bugs only he can see, eyes pin pricks of unfocused marbles in his head.
He has the hallmarks of someone who will do and say anything for a fix.
He won’t retain information past what his dealer’s name is, so he is a safe bet to send on this errand.
Sinn'ous gives him a quick once over, then activates his plan. “Go tell the Whytes they’re time is best spent in A-Wing.” He grabs the junkie’s face, forcing eye contact. “You hear me? Repeat it.”
The inmate licks his lips several times. “Tell Whytes they’re time is best in A-Wing.”
“They’re time is best spent in A-Wing.”
“They’re time is best spent in A-Wing.”
Sinn'ous nods, releasing his hold, and the junkie scurries away to fulfil the request.
The darkly concealed back corner of A-Wing is the best vantage point when you want to stay hidden and still monitor the room. The second set of cells acts as a blocker for the ceiling lights. Casting shadows Sinn'ous lives for.
When the junkie returns he seeks Sinn'ous out like a blood hound, honing in and crowding close. Sniffing at Sinn'ous’s heels. Ready and waiting on his reward for good behaviour in delivering a message.
Not yet, he needs the junkie to carry one last message. In due time.
The Whytes file in and congregate at a table by the corridor, they gather in a shaven group of bald badgers turning the heads of other men who are scattered throughout the room.
Glances are exchanged and the disgust at seeing this gang walking on turf uninvited by the resident A-Wing gangs is quickly over-ridden by curiosity.
The gathering causes the air to change, charged by the growing hype before the storm. The few lingering residents are alert, they can feel the rising atmosphere. The crackling of a fight to come.
And it arrives.
Jasper makes himself known. Bright orange flirting down the stairs. A small smile gracing his lips.
Why does the expression send a twinge below his ribs?
Sinn'ous rubs the place and promptly ignores it, grounding himself by rubbing his fingers over the razor stuffed into a slit in his waistband.
The twitching man beside him watching every movement of his hand, a dog waiting on a treat to be pulled.
Jasper enters the corridor and the Whytes pull in behind him. Sinn'ous follows suit, as do the other A-Wing inmates. Creating a peeping party by the corridor’s mouth.
Every mocked word, jeering taunt and jab by the Whytes to rile Jasper up is met with polite caution. And the bald white supremacy eat it in. Closing the distance and invading the boy’s space.
Sinn'ous instructs the junkie still clung to his side to inform Reni of this developing fight.
Not once taking his eyes off Jasper while the conversation escalates.
Jasper attempts to flee and is promptly caught, lifted off his feet, and thrown to the floor.
Then the bald attacker lays into him, the rest standing around wearing large grins.
Jasper kicks out, surprising Sinn'ous and his attacker with his strength. The man stumbles back, loses his footing and ends up joining the boy on the floor.
Jasper flips to his hands and knees, once again trying to flee. The three Whytes waste no time laying into him with their feet. Kicking him in the stomach, sides, head. Anywhere they can get at they kick and stomp.
Tension grows in Sinn'ous and he flicks his eyes down the corridor. While it has filled with inmates taking bets and yelling encouragements to fight, Reni is not among them. This is a very unmatched fight, it was swift and it is brutal.
Sinn'ous steps into the crowd. They’re all too engrossed in the entertainment to take note as he pushes in towards the centre. He reaches the break at the front edge lining the make-shift fight ring, his razor in hand to deal with the Whytes himself—
Reni and Zidie crash out the other side, and hit the other men like line-backers. Reni takes one down, and they both hit the ground in a grapple for a dominant position.
Zidie is right on Reni’s heels, decking one in a single slug. The Whytes gang member drops like a sack of potatoes, unmoving. Zidie takes on the next two, trading jabs and elbows.
The grunted sounds of fighting and flesh hitting flesh fills the corridor. Clashing with the growing enthusiasm of excited voices.
Reni attains dominance, his face twisted into a snarl as his fists fly. Blood is painting the floor all around them, and splattering over any onlookers who venture too close.
And Sinn'ous’s prey? He is shakily righting himself, spitting out blood, and using the wall to drag himself to his feet. Face already beginning to swell, colours darkening his cheeks.
The prison’s alarm system crashes into their fight club, and guards stream in. Yelling orders and dispersing the crowd. Just like that, the chaos is over.
Inmates are shoved down and cuffed. The Whytes gang members, three conscious and one unconscious.
Reni and Zidie. All restrained and dragged away to The Hole.
When a guard, Cunningham, steps over to take Jasper, Sinn'ous moves forward catching the guard’s eyes behind Jasper’s back.
Cunningham gives Sinn'ous a weary look, and the indiscernible shake of Sinn'ous’s head pulls the guard to a stop.
It would be counter productive for his prey to be placed into The Hole.
The junkie on the other hand. Sinn'ous snaps his shoulder forward in a quick move to forcibly nudge said junkie, sending the twitching addict careening into Cunningham. Who promptly cuffs him, much to the junkie’s dismay.
Who kicks, and squirms, and swears the whole way down the corridor.
He’s still vocal even after they round the bend out of sight.