Chapitre 18: Chapter 18: Conversion

"I love trauma because if I am traumatized, I am still alive, and that is already a win in my book."

- Sergeant Isaac, 10th Republic Battlegroup.

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As two soldiers of the Darkbane Prison Security Forces dragged Sasha's body out of the Warden's office, Vice Warden Jason Stone made his way to his superior, a mocking smile on his face.

"You know...you could've just had her arrested and taken to the execution field. Or better, the interrogation room. Instead, you decided to mess up your own office..." He snickered at the older man. "Smart call."

Henry didn't say a word, and Jason decided to push more of his buttons just for the kicks of it. Just because he could.

"Although...a shot to the head? It's a cheap end for a traitor. Sasha was cute. I would've enjoyed watching her scream and burn. Also," He threw Henry another glance and watched as his expressions changed. "We were given orders to interrogate her before dealing with her."

"I interrogated her."

"No you didn't. You asked her a few questions and shot her in the head." Jason chuckled sadistically. "What if she knew the names of more traitors and just didn't tell you, huh? What if we could've found out a lot more about what those Wolf traitors were planning, if you didn't give her the easy way out. If we had the opportunity to properly question her...I'm sure she would've felt a lot more chatty with a few patches of skin missing."

Henry Locke found himself growing angrier and angrier at his second in command with every word that came out of his mouth. For a second, he almost wanted to slap the young man, but once again, thoughts of self-preservation took hold.

"She wasn't a traitor and you know it." He said quietly, trying to keep things cool.

"She's not?" Jason pushed more and more forward, and the smile on his lips grew more and more confident. "How did you know, Warden? I mean...as far as I can tell, the only way for you to know she is not a traitor is if you know who all the traitors are? Hmmm...interesting. She is your secretary, after all. Combine that with what you did to her, hmmm…" His lips curled up wickedly. "I'm sure ONI would be thrilled with this information."

Jason was confident Henry wouldn't do anything to him, and that was what Henry thought for a while. Yet at that moment, when Jason threatened to accuse him of treason, Henry felt a string within him just snapped. With a speed surprising for his age, the veteran Warden charged into the Vice-Warden, grabbing him by his collar and sending his back crashing into a wall.

The two guards in the office still wiping Sasha's blood off the floor frowned. Their first in command just beat up their second in command. What should they do in a situation like this? Help the Warden and arrest the Vice-Warden, as per Imperial protocol for events like this? Or stand with the much more influential Vice-Warden and seize the Warden instead?

The Warden quickly solved their dilemma. "Leave us." He ordered, and the two soldiers hesitantly obeyed. The Vice-Warden reached out pleading hands to the pair, who acted as if they didn't see him.

"Orders are orders." One of them whispered to himself.

As the two of them were alone in the office, Henry turned back to Jason. Henry knew very well that he couldn't really do anything to Jason. If he killed Jason, no...if he as much as hurt Jason, the man and his family would see him and his entire family on the burning stakes. Still, that didn't stop him from threatening the foolish man.

"Listen to me, you little shit!" Henry growled under his breath. "Here is what is going on. I am going to retire in 3 months. After that, I don't care what happens to this goddamn shit hole. Maybe you'll be the fucking Warden. Maybe some other sorry sucker would take the position. I don't give a crap!"

He paused and stared into the Vice-Warden's eyes. The cockiness was gone from the young man's face, replaced by a look of utter terror. Chances were Jason had never been pinned against the wall like this, and no matter how cocky he was usually, when his own neck was at stake, he instantly shut up and listened. Wise call.

"Here are two possibilities." Warden Locke continued. "We can all play things nice until I leave, in which case you'll be able to do whatever you want after that. Or...or you can do whatever stupid thing you had in mind. Frame me. Accuse me of treason. Or maybe just piss me off. Whatever. If you keep that up, well…" He scoffed. "I have killed more Republic Rangers than you have ever seen. Your family is powerful, I suppose, but they are not on this island! Within these walls, I am the ruler!"

"So tell me, Jason...what is this going to be?"

By the time Henry released him, Jason had almost wetted himself. As he collapsed on the ground, the young man had to admit he had never felt better touching the floor. His hand raced to his aching neck.

"The second one." He finally managed to produce an answer. "I won't do anything stupid. I promise."

"Good." Henry stated simply before returning to his seat. "Now, get the hell out of my office."

It was an order Jason gladly obeyed.

---

One of the many agonizing things the prisoners of Darkbane Prison had to endure was the lack of a way to tell time. There were no clocks that the cellmates could refer to. As such, the difference between hours, days, and months quickly became blurry.

The sound of cell doors clicking shut marked the end of another set of prisoner transfers. Under the oversight of the managers of the five prison districts, hundreds of soldiers of the Darkbane Prison worked to move at least 300 prisoners across all of the five prison districts. The prisoners, and where they were moved, were all randomly chosen.

In a sense, this was a tiresome and even risky process. Hundreds of prisoners who were practically on death roll were, to a degree, freed. Then again, the riot shields and shock batons the guards were holding ensured that none of the prisoners would try anything stupid, and if any prisoner did decide to take their chances, they would be in a world of hurt. If they were lucky, a beating was all they would receive. Otherwise, perhaps they would be made into examples by the guards...

Plus, the guards weren't too afraid of having the prisoners flee the facility. Where could they run to? The sea?

Still, at the end of the day, everything went exactly according to the plan, just like the countless other random transfers that happened in the past years. For better or for worse, over 600 prisoners now had to deal with new cellmates that they knew nothing about. Maybe these new cellmates were rapists or serial killers. No one knew what they would do, and that was the terrifying part of this whole thing.

A lot of people won't be able to sleep tonight. As a matter of fact, almost immediately after the guards left, fighting broke out across many cells as some of the prisoners decided to teach their new cellmates who the bosses are. Some of the other cells were silent as the prisoners examined each other with suspicious eyes. No fighting happened in those cells...for now. Yet any prisoner who lowered their guard might find themselves surprised at the moment they least expected.

In one particular cell, a large man in his thirties found himself staring at a thin woman in front of him. Yes, the cells in the prison were co-ed, which didn't help the case for many prisoners at all. The interrogators, on the other hand, were more than happy with the effect.

As a veteran of the facility, the large man scanned his counterpart from top to bottom, taking every single characteristic of hers into consideration as he created an estimation of her threat level. If his cellmate was of equal or greater strength than him, then he would put up his polite mask and try to strike a peace deal with the counterpart. If his cellmate was weaker, well...peace was founded upon mutually assured destruction. No threat, no peace.

It was obvious which category the woman belonged to. The prisoners that were incarcerated in this facility were diverse. Some of them were psychopaths or bloodthirsty monsters who, for one reason or another, couldn't be simply burned at the stake. Others were in here because they had key information that must be extracted from them. This woman was clearly not a fighter. She likely got herself into this facility by committing some non-violent crime.

In other words, she was ripe for the taking.

The man chuckled loudly as his eyes landed on the woman's smooth curves. He couldn't even remember how long it had been since he last had a female cellmate. Three transfers? Four? What he did know was that this particular woman was ten times hotter than his last woman.

He didn't know how long he would have with this woman, but he did know he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Making up his mind, the man approached the woman. "Do not resist." He said quietly as his eyes were trained on the woman's arms and legs. This way, if she moved to resist, he would have more than enough time to react. Meanwhile, he did his best to weaken the woman's will. "Lay down and open your legs for me, and I promise I will make this somewhat pleasurable for you. Resist, and I won't be as gentle."

The woman simply stood there and tilted her head. The look of disgust on her face was clear. "I would rather not." She said simply.

The man smirked and looked up at the woman. For the first time in a while, he shifted his attention to the woman's expression, and to his surprise, he realized something very odd. Whenever a weaker cellmate was standing before him, they would usually be very afraid. Those who weren't afraid were pretending. The man was experienced enough to recognize both cases. Yet...the woman before him was different.

She wasn't afraid in the slightest. If anything, she looked excited.

Perhaps he misjudged her combat capabilities? But…

The man didn't have time to keep thinking, because it was at that split second that the woman acted. She moved with a level of speed that was simply superhuman. The man, caught by surprise, raised his arms to block her reach. Yet instead of feeling the force of a punch, the man found himself screaming as something sharp cut through his forearm.

The pain was so quick and so intense that within seconds, the man was on the ground, screaming. Agony was like a flame as it licked across his body.

The woman snickered as she stood over the screaming man. Sure, she was in a similar situation not long ago, but she didn't let that take away the amusement of the situation. Finally, the pain wore off a little, and the man went from screaming to breathing heavily. His eyes stared into those of the woman as he wondered what the hell was going on.

The woman was all too happy to enlighten him.

Ten minutes later, in a cell in the 9th District, Alexander Wolf grinned as he received another connection in the psychic network.