The Talkative Bastard
The echoes of my screams had barely faded when a guard rushed towards my cell, his footsteps pounding the cold, grey floor. I stood motionless, my eyes fixed on the guard as he approached. The younger guard's gun, still clutched in my hand, felt warm against my palm. With a swift motion, I aimed for the guard's head and pulled the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot reverberated through the hallway, a haunting echo that seemed to shake the very foundations of the prison. The bullet tore through the guard's eye, exiting through the back of his skull with a sickening splat. I discarded the gun, knowing that the loud noise would only serve to alert more guards to my presence.
As I stepped out of my cell, I couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of excitement. The prison, once a dull and monotonous place, had suddenly become a hub of activity. I had grown accustomed to the gloomy atmosphere, but now, with the sound of gunfire and screams filling the air, I felt a spark of life ignite within me.
"It hasn't even been a year since I was acquainted with this beautiful gloomy room of mine, and things are already getting lively," a voice called out from the cell next to mine. "I think I kinda like it in here, but sadly, I have someone I have to meet, so do mind helping me out, buddy."
The voice was lively and carefree, a stark contrast to the bleak surroundings. It was a tone that reminded me of my own past, a past that I had thought was long buried. I felt a pang of sadness, but I pushed it aside, focusing on my goal.
I ignored the voice, choosing instead to concentrate on my escape. The cells were old and rusted, the locks primitive and easy to pick. I knew that I had to move quickly, before more guards arrived.
"Come on, look at the dead guy you just shot," the voice persisted. "He has a key on the back of his pocket."
I turned to face the speaker, my eyes narrowing as I took in his features. He was a scrawny man, with a mop of messy brown hair and a crooked grin. He looked like the type of person who would talk your ear off, given half the chance.
"It's pointless," another voice chimed in from the cell next to the talkative bastard. "That man is nothing but a lost cause. Now shut up, some of us are trying to sleep."
The talkative bastard ignored the other inmate's words, choosing instead to focus on me. "I got an idea, HEY PERL!!" he exclaimed, his voice rising to a near-shout. "How about this? If you help me out, I'll support you or be of use to you somehow. You're pretty strong, so if I'm out of line, you can simply kill me."
I turned to face him, my eyes locked on his. For a moment, we simply stared at each other, the tension between us palpable. I could feel my anger rising, my fists clenched at my sides.
But then, something unexpected happened. The talkative bastard's words struck a chord within me. I realized that I didn't have to do this alone, that having an ally might just increase my chances of survival.
With a swift motion, I grabbed the keys from the dead guard's pocket and tossed them into the talkative bastard's cell. "He really did it!" the other inmates exclaimed, their voices filled with shock and surprise.
The talkative bastard grinned, his eyes shining with excitement. "Thanks, Perl!" he exclaimed, as he unlocked his cell door and stepped out into the hallway.
As the other inmates began to free themselves, the prison erupted into chaos. The sound of gunfire and screams filled the air, and I knew that the 13th Death Squad was about to be formed.