Falsely Convicted (G!SansxFrisk)

Second Chance, Last Chance

The halls became wider in this new cell-block. It also became more alive with activity. Every other minute G and I would have to duck into a cell and hide from another living being. Any time someone passed by, I could see their weapons hanging from belts and hands, glittering sharply in the dark.

At first I was worried about the lack of light but as more and more activity stirred around us, I was happy for the cover from other bloodshot eyes.

Everyone who passed was headed in the same direction. I was adamant we should go the opposite way but G insisted on seeing what was happening. He kept the lead with one hand shoved casually in his pocket. I would have thought he wasn't worried if he didn't keep reaching back to check that I was still there.

I tried not to jump constantly at each new sound. There were so many compared to the last two days. I felt surrounded and trapped, like bear cub caught in a trap, my paw lodged firmly between metal, bloodthirsty teeth.

A murmuring sound filled the air, sort of like the muffled sound that comes out of the school cafeteria when the doors are closed.

And true enough, two closed doors appeared at the end of the hallway. We approached them slowly. I felt G's hand wrap protectively around my wrist.

He pointed, his long, white finger too bright in the darkness, too visible. He was pointing to a small guard's platform, where a sniper would stand.

I was almost stupid enough to ask G how we were going to get up there when a clattering behind us shut me up. G looked down at my pale face and winked, his famous smirk spread over his skull.

Quick as one could blink, he teleported us. Wrapping his arms around me, he waited until my nausea wore off before letting go.

I gave him a quick smile when he tugged my hand into his. I was grateful for the contact, which kept me steady and grounded when I was about ready to have a panic attack.

Below us, it seemed like every single prisoner was crammed into this one room. It wasn't wide enough for all of them and people were bumping shoulders and arguing loudly. At the far end of the room, were supplies. Boxes were guarded by large monsters who roughly shoved back anyone who got to close.

At the center of the room, surrounded by thousands of inmates, was a haphazard platform built with pallets and other wooden items. A chair was mounted to the top and in it sat Don Stefano himself.

His silver hair was combed back neatly, every strand in stuck in place as if they were glued. With sharp eyes, he watched his fellow inmates argue. No longer wearing a prisoner's jumper, he had donned a suit, an ill-fitting suit albeit but it was a status symbol over the other prisoners.

He stood up and just like that, everyone stood still as if in shock. Every noise died and an uncomfortable silence filled its place.

We hunkered behind the shelf, peering over the edge at Stefano.

"Congratulations men," a cold smile pasted on Stefano's face as he spread his arms out. "You criminals have officially been promoted to girlhood." His smile turned into a snarl. "You cowards!" he bellowed. "I told you we'd defeat the prison guards and the warden himself, did I not? And under my leadership we did. I've brought you idiots this far. I will not let S.W.A.T. win. Not without a fight. But I need men! Not girls! So any pigtail wearers had better leave now." He paused, eying the inmates with a fresh ferocity.

"Good. I have the S.W.A.T. situation under control. We've re-enforced the steel locks and welded the door shut. Nobody is getting in until I say so." The frown lines in his forehead deepened, casting a dark shadow over his face. He rubbed his stubble thoughtfully.