The Prison (Book 1)

Raging Bull

My favorite marathon is going back to previous chapters in this story and reading the comments. Funniest three hours of my life. You should try it ;) 

Raging Bull 

"Oh, my God. What the hell happened to you?" I hissed, alarmed by Schneider's bleeding wound.

"It's just a flesh wound." Schneider said with a toothy grin.

How could he be so unbothered with a wound that was dripping blood all over the concrete floor?!

Thinking it would appease my concerns, he said, "You should see the other guy."

"What other guy?" I shouted over the rising ruckus.

Someone handed him a cloth that smelled of antiseptic and he dabbed the cut with it.

"Ladies and gentlemen." A sudden voice boomed over the rest, quieting the crowd instantly.

I searched the crowd for the source of the voice and found him standing in the middle of the makeshift rink, holding a huge rusted nail in one hand. He waved it around as he yelled, "We got ourselves another fight tonight!"

The crowd cheered and it was all I could do not to slap my hands over my ears. Their deafening cheers bounced off the walls, echoing like the ugly roar of a bloodthirsty ogre.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" They angrily demanded, pumping their fists into the electrically-charged air that smelled of various body odors.

I was slowly starting to understand what was going on. When it finally registered, my mouth formed the shape of an O.

This was an underground fighting rink, and I was clearly late to the show.

"How come I'm just finding out about this place?" I ask-yelled, slightly incensed that I wasn't included in this 'entertainment' event sooner. I liked a good fight as much as the next guy.

Schneider leaned into my ear and said, "It's the first time a fight has been organized since you came. It only happens when Schneizel's gone."

At that, both my eyebrows shot into my hairline.

Was Schneider telling me that he'd gone and orchestrated this event behind his brother's back?

"Why?" I shouted.

"He doesn't like it."

Why did Schneizel not like this? It wasn't like he was a particularly non-violent guy. If anything, this seemed like the type of thing that he'd enjoy, or even participate in.

Before I could question Schneider some more, two inmates enter the rink. With their chests puffed and their mugs grim, they looked like your typical MMA fighters, prison edition.

My eyes zeroed in on the knives they were holding.

"You can't be serious," I breathed, ashen-faced. It finally dawned on me how Schneider got his bleeding cut.

I whirled on him and demanded, "You fight with knives?! That's criminal and stupid as hell."

"This is hell," he said nonchalantly.

Even in a place like this, a knife fight was just asking for trouble. Considering the temperament and criminal history of some of these inmates, the worst possible idea was to give them a knife to swing around. Something catastrophic was bound to happen eventually, sooner rather than later.

Was this the reason why Schneizel didn't want these fights happening? In this instance, he'd certainly agree with him.

"Bets!" The announcer slash referee suddenly growled.