Due to the worldwide fanfare surrounding high level fighters, street fights and brawls became ever more common within everyday society. In correlation with the increase of violence came the increase of serious injuries and deaths. Therefore, fights and brawls were soon outlawed and severe punishments were handed out as a deterrent. Special fight prisons were created for people who had specifically been found guilty of fighting and causing serious bodily harm to another outside of regulated and licensed fight institutions.
These fight prisons were originally created as a form of reeducation camp to teach the convicts the importance of fighting under controlled and regulated conditions. However, with corrupt prison officers this did not last long and the prisons were now a frenzy for violence and corruption.
Chase and Wiz were marched down to their cell in a single file line with other new convicts. There was a mix of different characters. Some looked like they didn't belong here similar to Chase and Wiz. Looking timid, shy and unsure what to expect of their new home for the foreseeable future. Whereas some of the others looked like they were capable of killing puppies and eating them raw seconds later. Those were the people who felt right at home. This was nothing new to them.
"Inmate 457 – Cell 065" shouted the prison officer leading the line.
Chase looked down at his new prison uniform which was an orange jumpsuit and saw his number 457. The uniform had definitely been worn by others before him as it had many rips and tears in it and an old blood stain around the midsection. This didn't bode well for the future as Chase most certainly did not want any trouble inside prison. Chase was accustomed to old ragged clothes due to his poor upbringing but the reason behind the one's he had just inherited struck a jolt of fear into him.
Chase walked up towards his cell with the tiniest footsteps. He was prolonging the inevitable. It was in this moment he realized that he would be split up from Wiz and not sharing a cell together. Chase was praying for a nice cellmate. Chase was used to being alone but he did not want to be locked up with a killer in which he was looking over his shoulder daily and sleeping with one eye open nervously awaiting the moment he would get killed himself. He wasn't looking to make friends, he just wanted to be safe.
"Lucky you, you are sharing with inmate 002" the prison officer sarcastically commented.
Lay on his bed was a giant of a man. Bald, rough and a belly to rival any sumo wrestler. He did not even make eye contact with Chase, in fact, Chase barely even caught his attention. Chase did not know what to make of his cellmate but he didn't dare engage in any conversation.
Chase looked around the dim tightly congested cell trying to envisage how any joy could come from his life whilst being cooped up inside here. He made his way towards his single bed and stared into the cracked mirror adjacent to his bed and saw a frightened little boy. It was himself. His scruffy brown hair, oversized orange jumpsuit and skinny stature. He knew he was in way over his head and did not belong here.
10 hours had passed and not a single word was muttered between Chase and his cellmate. Chase was beginning to lose his mind already. Staring at these four walls for the next few months, this was Chase's life now he pondered to himself. Sounds and voices echoed in the prison corridors, mainly inmates heckling each other but also the noises of the night. Mysterious sounds that were fitting for such a location.
Just as Chase finally managed to doze off and catch some sleep, he heard the prison officer open his cell door. Chase kept his eyes shut as he did not want to alert the officer that he was awake. To Chase's confusion he heard several footsteps approach him and just as he peaked one of his eyes open to see what was going on, he had a pillow pressed over his face. This was not the prison officer, this was two convicts from the prison.
"Welcome to our world fresh meat" the convicts evilly whispered to Chase whilst suffocating him with a pillow.
Fresh meat was a term used within the prison for new convicts that were thought to be easy prey for the more experienced convicts. This was a common tactic within the prison walls to intimidate 'fresh meat' into being a puppet for their own benefits. Chase had just got rid of one set of bullies, and now he had a new pair to contend with.
Chase was gasping frantically for air whilst he struggled under the pressure of the pillow. The convicts would allow him to breathe ever so slightly and then smoother him once more.
"Your ass belongs to me now" they sniggered.
Chase was kicking ferociously trying to release some of the pressure on top of him but was not making any progress. Just as when Chase was about to give up the fight, the pillow had been raised from his face. To his surprise, as his vision was no longer obstructed, he saw his cellmate had both of the convicts elevated off the ground in a hand each of his. He let them hang there for a while, mocking their inferiority before throwing them both out of the cell. The convicts rushed off without hesitation regretting instantly the decision they had just made.
Chase was in awe of his strength. He had never seen one man be so physically dominant before. They were like insects to him in which he could flick across the room at his own will.
Chase realized that he would be a great ally to have in the prison and should attempt to make some sort of bond. But this was not a strength of Chase's and the cellmate didn't seem interested either. Immediately after saving Chase from the convicts he did not utter a word and got back into his bed like nothing even happened.