Snowflake (bxb)

Trial

"...Convicted of five counts of rape and five counts of first degree murder. Sentenced to five consecutive life sentences for the murders and one concurrent for the multiple counts of rape." Inaco hears the bang of the gavel and his trial was over. He was escorted from the dock by two uniformed police men, already cuffed, and led to a mostly bare room, foam and metal chairs against the off white walls, the floor made of tarnished wood. The officers placed him in one of the empty chairs a with a little excessive force than what was necessary.

Inaco sighed and looked down at his cuffed hands, the metal clinking with every slight movement. He didn't regret what he did, but he probably could of done it better, his beaten up body was evidence enough of that. He slouched in the chair, back curved and legs stretching out, head tilted back, resting on the back of the chair, looking up at the boring ceiling with another deep sigh.

His eye still hurt, mostly swollen shut, the rest of him wasn't much better, ass still on the mend but probably the least injured part of him. Everything hurt. Covered in bruises and cuts, some scratches or caused by punches or kicks of those who had struggled beneath him. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to rape someone, for one it was painful, pushing your sensitive dick in something so resistant and tight, barely damp while the person writhed in pain beneath you, what was pleasurable about that?

He still had done it though, as payback, do to others as they have done to you, and eye for an eye and all that shit. The law wouldn't punish those five men that beat and raped him, so he took into his own hands, and killed them as interest. But of course he got punished for that. The influential in the world had the upper hand, fingers in pies and lips to listening ears, money and fear, it's what made the world go round. Those two things could make any man or woman do just about anything. And the judge and jury were only human, they fell victim to those two very things, turning a blind eye to the assault and rape of one man but prosecuting to the fullest extent of the law when that man rapes and kills his attackers back. Funny thing the world.

The door to the room opened and another man was escorted in, already dressed in his bright orange prison jumpsuit, he looked almost...comfortable in it. He was a man past his prime, late forties at least, thinning dark brown hair peppered with grey, on the heavier side with a slight paunch, a fan of alcohol then. Light blue eyes, almost silver, face already heavily wrinkled and weathered from outdoor manual labour and the stresses of life. Hooked nose a little thin at the tip and thin cracked lips that were licked often. Bushy eyebrows giving him the impression of always being overly serious or constipated, depends on how you look. He was tall man, but back starting to bow a little, his strong shoulders pulling forwards, like invisible weights were hanging from his cuffs or something was pushing with great force on his shoulders.

The older man looked up and took in the late teen slouched in the only occupied chair, looking like he lost a fight with a truck, or maybe one of those obnoxious four by fours women drive just to go to the supermarket. He looked troubled but resigned to his fate, demeanour stoical, but his eyes gave him away, deep blue orbs swirling with a myriad of emotions. The eyes were sometimes called the gateway to the soul, for this young man that saying seemed to ring true.

The older man, his name Abdias Stevenson was set down a few seats away from Inaco, Abdi as his friends called him looked over at the youth with mild interest, there was nothing else in the room to occupy his mind after all. The officers then took Inaco through the door Abdi had come though, the one that didn't lead to the court room. They uncuffed him, handing him his own jumpsuit, with a pair of white boxers and a vest to go on underneath, a pair of white socks and sturdy black boots with no laces. They shut the door to the small changing room and Inaco quickly changed, hissing as his injuries protested, he was just securing his boots when the door opened again. But this time not only were his hands cuffed but his ankles and waist as well, the treatment a criminal convicted of such violent acts received whist being transported. His clothes were placed in a bag, his details already written on a label stuck to the material, added to the small pile of bags already present. This confused Inaco, where were the other people whose names were on those bags?

He was led back to the plain room with chairs and set down in the same chair as before, walking was more challenging confined by metal and the officers impatiently dragged him to that seat to his annoyance and pain, his injuries protesting again. Abdi was surprised to see the youth in more than just the cuffs he was wearing, he didn't seem the type to murder, not violently, but looks could be deceiving.

Abdi's overalls were baggy but tight in some places, around his middle for example, and his arms. Inaco's on the other hand looked almost tailored, his lithe and toned body filling out the fabric almost perfectly, lack of wrinkles or bunched fabric. Inaco was tall, but not by male standards, he was not towering but he would surpass most women, not tall but yet not short either. Without the black eyes, one badly swollen, many bruises and cuts and scrapes he might be considered handsome. He had been gifted with thick black hair, in the need of a haircut, talloused out of his face by his fingers, dipping into his deep blue eyes occasionally. He was noticeably pale, not due to ill health, just naturally pale and not a fan of the burning sun. His skin was milky white, blemish free aside from the occasional mole or random freckle. It was something Inaco had grown to loath about his appearance, the reason he had caught the attentions of his rapiers probably, that along with his 'cute' button nose as one of his aunts had called it, not that you rape someone because of their nose. He had an overly innocent face, clean shaven for the trial added to that, his jaw was pronounced but was still soft, cheekbones shadowing his cheeks, adding shape to his face. His eyebrows were thin but full, slightly arched, his blue eyes large and doe shaped, cheeks able to dimple but it was something they rarely did, his red, on the fuller side lips rarely formed anything else but a frown or neutral line.

Abdi continued to look at the youth with growing interest, earning a glance, accompanied by a raised brow at the attention Inaco was receiving from the older guy. They eye contact was broken when the both turned to look as the third door to the room was opened. A few more overall clad men were being led in by officers and sat in the vacant chairs, two remaining unoccupied. The owners of the other labelled bags then, Inaco surmised, probably came from holdings. Most paid the two men that already sat in the chairs no attention aside from eyes brushing over as the room was taken in. Only one other man was wearing y-cuffs, late 20's, skinny and short, light brown hair shorn close to his scalp, bland and cruel eyes the same colour, tanned and scarred skin, thin lips chewed and nails bitten till they bled. Innocence didn't cling to this man, oh no, he destroyed innocence.

"Right inmates, bus will be here in 5, hold your hands up now for the bathroom or forever hold your peace." one of the officers in the room spoke up, addressing all the men in orange. A few of the men held up their hands and were escorted one by one through the third door, Inaco and Abdi not being one of them, their bladders empty and mouths dry, not that Inaco could raise his hand even if he wanted it to, it being chained to his ankles and waist.

Once those who had elected to use the bathroom had come back the officer spoke again. "You will stand up and form an 'orderly' line." he stressed the word. Some of the inmates stood up quickly, facing the third door and making a line, Inaco struggled to get up for a moment but an arm was taken by an officer and he was pulled up roughly and placed in line. Abdi took his sweet time and meandered into formation. Once they had formed an 'orderly' line their names were called, making sure they were all present and accounted for. After that they were escorted by quite a few officers though the third door and down a sparsely decorated hallway, the same faded wooden flooring and off white walls, accompanied by the odd unlabelled door, pretty deserted aside from the prisoners and officers. They reached another set of doors and went through it, met by the early afternoon sun, the autumn chill in the air. The area was fenced off, chain fence adorned with barbed wire on top, it was a small courtyard of sorts, behind the closed and locked gate, on the side of the pavement was a well-used bus, windows small and barred, passengers stony faced or unfriendly looking. An officer at the gate opened it and the door to the bus hissed open, each prisoner was escorted onto the bus and sat in a vacant seat.