City of Red | Part 1

Chapter 5 | Black-Gate Prison

The helicopter landed inside the perimeter of Black-Gate's twenty foot tall barbwire topped fence. The side door opened revealing two men dressed in black fatigues unshackling Alfonso's feet from the security loop on the floor.

The two mercenaries manhandled Alfonso out the door and handed him off to a group of men dressed in navy-blue police styled uniforms. Their button-down navy-blue shirts were long-sleeved and had two breast pouches adorned with outlines of an ash color. They wore matching navy blue hats emblazoned with the same badge displayed over their left breast.

The guards dragged Alfonso away from the helicopter and when it was clear, it lifted off. Then, for no reason other than to be an asshole, a guard hit him in his lower back with a nightstick and Alfonso fell to the ground.

"That never gets old." The guard laughed. "You dago piece of shit. Now get up. You got yourself orientation."

Alfonso carried the pain of that cheap shot another hundred yards to a door where a guard was smoking. He opened it and Alfonso found himself standing inside a large white room packed with so many people it was hard to find space to walk.

"This is where you start." The guard said, shoving Alfonso into line. "Don't you go fucking up." The guard flashed his nightstick to Alfonso and smiled big, then walked away.

The line moved after a moment and Alfonso was soon able to make out what the man behind the window was shouting.

"Next!" The man said.

A few moments later, Alfonso was the one standing across from him. There was an opening at the bottom of the divider window with holes perforating the center of the glass. The man's afro was speckled with gray and his face carried deep lines that looks like scars.

"In here, your name's 29706. That's your name." The man told Alfonso, spitting the words out like second nature now, because this must have been the billionth time saying them.

He slid a stack of clothes through the opening at the bottom of the window. "Two blue button-up shirts, two pair of navy-blue pants, two pair of white cotton socks, two pair of white cotton underwear, and a pair of navy-blue slip-on shoes. And your toiletries. Breakfast begins at six every morning. Lunch is at noon, dinner's at six. Shower time is from two to seven every day."

"What's your name?" Alfonso said.

The man's eyes cut away from his clipboard and glared at Alfonso. "55471."

"I mean your real name."

"That's the only name that matters, white boy. You're holding the line up." 55471 leaned in close to the holes in his window and added, "move along before the bulls notice."

"Bull?"

55471 gritted his teeth. "The guards."

"Alright, I got you. Just tell me your name and I'll go."

"Willie King. What is it with you anyway?"

"See you around, Willie."

"I hope the fuck not." Willie replied.

Alfonso turned to leave but bumped into the next man behind him. He was six foot five inches tall, almost a whole foot taller than Alfonso. It was like a tiny hill standing in the shadow of a mountain.

"My mistake." Alfonso said.

"Watch out where you're walking, faggot."

Alfonso had walked into trouble without even trying. So, he did the only thing that made sense in that moment. Considering how big he was, if he wanted to survive, he would have to get the first shot in and make it count.