New Game

Michael

(He's finally here)

Harold arrived at Revant National Prison around eleven o'clock in the morning. He had decided that he needed a shower and change of clothes if he was going to be meeting a killer. He pulled his still-wet hair into a low ponytail and tugged on his best vest. It was made of black leather with a v-cut neck and the LA Bureau of Investigation logo seared into the back. He pinned his badge to his left.

When he entered the building, two hard-faced security ushered him through the main doors. They proceeded to pat him down and run him through the metal detector. Harold closed his eyes and endured all the poking and prodding until they were satisfied. Finally, they asked the purpose of his business. "I am here to see Michael Joseph Jackson," Harold told them, his voice serious.

"Are you fucking crazy?" the man barked, taken-aback. He was an older man with deep lines etched into his face, but he still looked visibly shaken by the very mention of Michael's name, the same way Lauren had been in the conference room earlier. Harold was intrigued. What kind of person could strike such fear into everybody he had ever met?

"He gets too many visitors." One of the female guards mumbled. She pursed her lips, her eyes darting around nervously. She was several years younger than her partner, but still a good ten years older than Harold. "I can take you there, but I won't stay. He has his own guards, just for him," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Agent Quinn raised his eyebrows, surprised. He had never heard of a prisoner having his own personal guards before.

The security woman jerked her head in the direction of the nearest corridor and Harold followed her down the passage. They walked past several cells and Harold ignored the hoots and hollers of incarcerated inmates. She stopped in front of a large, metal door.

"This is where I take off." the security woman said, jumpily. She looked like she was ready to take off running in the opposite direction. Harold found herself getting excited, probably more than he should have been. This was exactly the sort of rush he had been looking for in his life.

"Where is his cell?" Harold asked, eying the gigantic metal door suspiciously. The guard laughed derisively. Harold frowned at him.

"He's the only prisoner in this block," she replied. She concentrated, looking for the keys to unlock the door. Finally, there was a loud clack and the door swung forward. "Good luck," she whispered, backing away from the door and retreating back down the hallway. Harold gave her a quick nod and walked with confidence into the prison wing.

The door slammed shut behind him and re-locked. Harold nearly jumped out of his skin, but quickly regained his composure. He began walking forward slowly, looking around the hallway, his feet clicking against the concrete floor. It was a long, straight hallway made of heavy-duty concrete.

Harold approached the end of the cell-block to find another large, bolted door even thicker and more intimidating than the first. Two severe-looking men flanked the entrance. They glared down at the man, who flashed them his badge. Neither of them spoke but instead pulled out key cards in unison to activate the door lock.

Agent Quinn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He entered the room and the guards shut the door behind him, clicking the lock shut. He opened his eyes swallowed his gasp. The room was large, divided in half by a clear wall made of what looked like glass, but it was even thicker than the metal door. The half of the room farthest from the door was brightly lit and Harold could clearly see its contents. The walls were papered in paintings of a large Neverland like island and pictures of Peter Pan. Pushed up against the wall in the far corner was a small metal bed. It was a simple prison issue, but somebody had covered it in a sparkly gray comforter.