WELCOME TO MAX SEC

[Michael Saint]

21st May, 11 AM.

Michael swept his gaze over the yard as he was herded out alongside a dozen or so other inmates. Noticing how quiet the place was. The late may sunshine was warm and bright, the sea wind gentle. If it were not for the reek of stale sweat and fresh misery on the breeze it would be almost peaceful. The convicts gaze travelled to the outer side of the chain link fence where an elder suited man was watching with undisguised lust at the parade of bodies before him. The burly figure of Eric Gallows stood close by, his arms folded and a thick cigar hanging from his lips. Michael had been around long enough to know what this was. The old guy was some foreign fuck with lots of money and little respect for laws or morals. Eric had been tasked with displaying some of the stock to whet his appetites before any deals were closed and money was exchanged.

Amoungst the two dozen or so inmates herded out were a few twinks, most of which had been claimed or used by Brad Clark. Clark was...greedy with his toys and didn't let them go anywhere out of his sight, so Eric was evidently displaying the best stuff, the unobtainable stuff in hopes of putting a swift end to the deal. A few female inmates were also present, but these were few and far between, each one fitting the description of being very young and boyish, flat chested and almost asexual.

When his cuffs were undone Michael padded across the yard, rolling his head to stretch the muscles at his neck and shoulders. Most of the inmates sauntered off throughout the yard into groups, some clambering into the bleachers for a seat, others propping themselves up against the chain link fence. For once the basket ball hoops were left empty so Michael padded over to them and undone his jumpsuit, letting it pool about his waist. The angels covering Michael's chest and back were faded ghosts in the bright light. Leaning down the big convictp icked up a basket ball and dribbled it slowly. He had never been much for ball games. He played a little football when he was younger but his great passions had always been the mechanical, or other...more violent pursuits. Bouncing the ball Michael took it in two hands and shot for the hoops. The ball bounced off the ring and back into the court, rolling to the stop at a young mans feet.

Michael recognised the kid as Jon Sheridan, one of Brad's unfortunate favorites. Savannah's heart bled for him and Michael had to admit, seeing the kid in the flesh was unsettling, knowing what had happened to him. Walking to the edge of the court Michael held his hands out, expecting Jon to pass the ball back.

[Jon Sheridan]

For the past twenty-four hours Jon had alternated between crazy euphoria and flat despondency. He’d finally found Sarah. He could hardly believe his ears when the DJ’s voice had emerged from the old beat-up radio he’d borrowed from Brett so he could hear his request being played for the girl who’d helped save his life. Never in a million years had he actually expected her to be listening far less respond back with a request for him. Not only that but she’d been thinking about him too! The words were seared into his brain…

Jon if you're listening Sarah called into the station. She heard your request. She says she's still thinking about you and hasn't stopped. Saint is her last name. This ones coming at you from Sarah...

Even the song she’d chosen was one of his favorites, it was like they had some telepathic connection thing going on. He knew it was his Sarah because he’d put in his letter a question only she would know the answer to. Where had they found him. Only she and her boyfriend Riley would know it had been Davenports where Brad Clark had left him for dead. So now they’d reestablished contact of a kind the cold hard reality of the situation was they were no closer to seeing one another again, with him stuck in prison and her out in the big wide world. Still, at least he now knew her last name. Saint. Which brought him to his present dilemma. Everyone in Manfried knew who Mike Saint was, the one inmate nobody messed with unless they had a death wish.

Unlike Smith or Jones, Saint wasn’t that common a name so it stood to reason Sarah and Mike might be related to each other, distant cousins or something like that. Lord help him if he turned out to be her father! A brute like Saint would hardly be down with a wimp like him pining after his daughter, especially after what Brad had done to him. He quickly pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he followed the big inmate out to the yard, carefully keeping a safe distance like he’d been doing all day long whilst trying to work up enough courage to speak to him.

The choking stench of cigar smoke wafted in the air and Jon cast a nervous glance toward the perimeter fence where the Hangman was standing next to a creepy old dude looking for all the world like they were at a cattle auction. There was a time when Jon would have been oblivious as to what the pair were about but now he knew better. Quickly he looked away and concentrated his attention once again on Mike Saint who was dribbling a ball around the hoops court. Just at that moment the ball bounced wide and rolled to a stop right at his feet and he was taken by a momentary flash of panic at the sight of Saint lumbering toward him. This close, the guy was positively gargantuan in comparison to himself and Jon had visions of being picked up and hurled across the yard like a rag doll.

He crouched down and retrieved the ball, hugging it protectively to his chest like a shield as if it might offer a modicum of protection in the event Saint decided to rip him apart.

“Uhm…hi…” he squeaked, before awkwardly clearing his throat a couple of times and going on. “I wanted to…uh…ask you something if that would be okay…sir.”

Feeling like a complete dweeb he handed the ball over and dug deep within the folds of his jumpsuit to produce the by now dog-eared sketch his mother had drawn of Sarah.

“There’s this girl, her name’s Sarah, and I wondered if maybe you know her?”

The page fluttered between his trembling fingers as he held it up for the big inmate to see. “Her last name’s Saint…so I thought…uhm…”

Suddenly the blood drained from his face and he let out an audible gasp, snatching the picture back just as Delaney appeared out of nowhere and plucked it from his hand.

“Well now, what have we here Jonny boy? Not content with being Brad’s fucktoy you got a craving to be Saint’s little bitch too?” Delaney’s snort of laughter was accompanied with a sharp backhander across Jon’s cheek. “I’ll be taking this, whatever the hell it is.”

Casting a brief glance at the sketch Delaney went to stuff it in his pocket when Jon’s hand shot out to snatch it back.

“No!” he blurted out, without thinking of the trouble he was buying himself, “Let me have it back! Punish me with loss of privileges or something but please give it back!”

It was the only picture he had of Sarah and he wasn’t about to give it up without a fight. So intent on getting it back he temporarily forgot all about Mike Saint standing next to him.

[Michael Saint]

Sheridan wasn't too different from any of the other twinks that Brad ravaged and Savannah mothered. He was a young guy, but his hair cut and the not quite properly broken tones of his voice made him seem a lot younger still, Probably why Brad had taken such a liking to him. He was poorly fed, with something of an unhealthy gleam to his skin and the signs of stres evident in his features. He was a million miles from complete physical maturity and still had the slightly rounded shoulders of a boy. All in all nothing about the kid suggested he belonged in prison.

Jon was evidently even less sporty than Michael, for instead of passing it back he held it to him as a shield and squeaked up a hello. Michael felt a glimmer of amusement flicker across his face. Jon cleared his throat and tried his best not to stammer but fear was dripping from every word. It probably didn't help the fact too much when Michael's eyes narrowed at the mention of his daughter.

Jon handed over the ball and then rummages in his jump suits. Michael passed the ball between his hands, palming it each time as he waited for Jon to produce whatever he was searching for. Eventually he produced a worn, and remarkably life like image of Sarah. It lacked the frown she so often wore when coming to visit him here and for once she was smiling. " I know her" He grunted, Michael's features softened right up untill Delany made his unwelcome appearance.

For the second time in as many days Michael found himself at a fork in the road. Frankly, what Jon got taken from him wasn't his business and Michael wasn't so keen on letting someone like Jon go with his daughter. Jon attracted bad attention and if he went with Sarah it would only be a matter of time untill Brad Clark stepped in. At the same time though Jon was nothing short of an orphan. The kid showed remarkable bravery snatching his sketch back even after being slapped and mocked, and Michael felt the cold logic of self preservation and the other, more emotional elements of his mind warring with one and other.

Michael, driven perhaps by parental instinct, or merely by his aggressive nature put himself between Jon and Delany as soon as Jon had snatched his picture back. Michael knew their wouldn't be a way out of it, if he hit Delany he'd have to go all the way and kill him. He wasn't prepared to have a vengeful guard making his and Savannah's life a misery. Even this action would put a dent in the C.O's nose. Still... what kind of man would he be if he let a sadist bully a kid right infront of him? Not one that deserved Savannah anyway. " Every once in a while..." Michael rumbled, his voice dangerously even. " You come across someone you shouldn't fuck with." Michael dropped the basket ball and pinned it with one of his feet. " That person is me." Michael didn't make any aggressive move afterwards, but if Delany wanted to get to Jon he would have to move Michael out of the way. Inwardly Michael thanked his good fortune that Savannah was with Faith.

[Matt Delaney]

Matt’s bluster cooled to a peep and he took a step back. This wasn’t going down the way he’d expected at all. He never thought he’d see the day a sniveling little bitch like Jon Sheridan would give him a sideways glance far less dare to challenge him. And Saint’s reaction took him further by surprise. As far as he was aware there was no connection whatsoever between one of the toughest, if not the toughest inmate in Manfried and Brad’s favorite fucktoy so Saint's apparent defense of the boy was a curve ball Matt hadn’t seen coming. His hand moved to rest on the butt of his service revolver and he took his eyes off Saint just long enough to scan the yard. Great. Gallows was on personal shopper duty with some old pervert on the wrong side of the razor-wire fence and the only other back-up within shouting distance was Carli Richards, a simpering hug-a-thug bitch whom Matt knew wouldn't piss on him if he were on fire. If things were to kick off with Saint, the chances were he'd be dead before he even had time to draw his weapon. Delaney might be a loud-mouthed bully but he was smart enough to know when to pull in his horns.

Swiftly covering up his discomfiture with a superior smirk he leveled his gaze with Saint, the shadow of defeat in his eyes at odds with the outward veneer of brash confidence.

“You’ll get yours one of these days, Saint. How does the saying go? Oh yeah, I remember, the mightier they are the harder they fall, or words to that effect. I guarantee you won’t be so fucking tough down on the Killing Floor strapped into the X-frame with a dick up your ass and your family jewels sizzling in a vat of acid. And you know what? I’ll be right there watching while you scream for mercy, that’s a promise.” Carefully he began backing away, “Hope you enjoy Brad’s sloppy seconds,” he jerked his head toward Sheridan skulking behind the huge inmate. “Bon Appetit.”

[Jon Sheridan]

Everything was happening so fast it made Jon's head spin. He was so sure Delaney would beat the living shit out him he would’ve laid money on it but just as he braced himself for the onslaught a shadow eclipsed the the sun’s rays on his skin. Jon blinked in confusion as a solid wall of muscle appeared in front of him, blocking Delaney’s access as effectively as a shield of reinforced steel.

Like something out a Diehard movie Saint’s deep rumbling voice was ominous enough to strike terror into the bravest of men even without the added menace of his words.

Every once in a while you come across someone you shouldn't fuck with. That person is me.

Jon’s jaw hung open and an awestruck expression replaced the fear that had been etched on his face only moments ago. Nobody spoke to a guard like that and especially not Delaney! Saint had to be certifiably insane, impressive as hell but stark raving mad nonetheless. Jon held his breath, afraid to move a muscle as he steeled himself for the hail of bullets he was sure would be bringing Saint down in a blaze of glory at any moment. To his astonishment no gunshots rang out and the wall stood firm before him as the unthinkable happened. Delaney backed down. Though he did his best to disguise it there was no mistaking the timbre of fear in the voice of the guard who sought to make his life a misery on a daily basis. Jon chanced a peek around Saint’s massive shoulders in time to see Delaney beat a hasty retreat with his tail between his legs.

“Man, that was freakin' awesome!” he uttered, clearly enthralled by what had just taken place.

A rare smile transformed his normally pinched features as he carefully folded the picture up and tucked it back in the folds of his jumpsuit.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to cause you any hassle, it’s just…well this is the only picture of Sarah I have. My mom drew it from the description I gave her so she could try and find her on Facebook. She never found her cause there's like a gazillion Sarah’s and I didn’t know her last name then.”

A note of anticipation crept into his voice. “You said you knew her? I was crapping myself in case you turned out to be her dad.” he gave a sheepish chuckle, confident if Saint had been Sarah’s father he would of said so right off the bat rather than simply acknowledging that he knew her. “God, how embarrassing would that've been!”

Realizing he was rambling on like an idiot and to the formidable Mike Saint no less Jon gave himself a mental kick in the ass and got down to business. “I’d really love to write to her but I don’t know her address. I don’t want to piss off her boyfriend or anything like that cause he’s a cool guy. I’d just like to be kinda like her penpal, y’know? If you could ask her if she’d be down with that I'd be real grateful…if it’s not too much trouble, sir.”

Having said his piece Jon fixed the big inmate with a look of fervent hope awaiting his reply.

[Michael Saint]

Michael had an appreciation for the clever and the witty. Be it Hannibles double envelopment strategy or the humour of Danny Kay, but what he just did was so far from clever, so far from witty he felt a foul taste coat the tip of his tongue. Internally his stomach clenched up, knotting painfully and Michael felt his heart rate steadily build.

Delany wasn't a joke, vicious and ill tempered even by the standards of a VV member, the C.O was remarkably handy with his revolver, or whatever came to hand. Matt held all the cards. He we well armed, well trained and he had a few buddies kicking around the yard, from Carli Richards who...while not too much of a problem only needed to add her body weight and another pair of lashing hands to the press to create a problem. Gallows was on the other side of the fence but he could shoot same as any of the guards. Michael fought an uphill battle to kee his gaze steady.

Matt's hand was close to the polished handle of his revolver, and Michael could see in the guards eyes he was weighing up his options. For he had many and Mike only had a bluff to play on. Sheer theatrics and vaudeville. Michael's bluff was no more real than a stage magicians magic. All you had to do was look past the smoke screen and see it all laid bare, but reputation and isolation were powerful factors. Michael had tried as best as he could to make Matt feel isolated, making sure that he didn't act in an aggressive manner to draw the attention of the other hacks.

When Delany smirked Michael's heart lurched and his muscles bunched in expectation, his eyes demanding to flick to the revolver but Michael held them still. Staring at Matt with as much confidence as he could muster. The guard gave a cocky little look and gave his usual patter, though Michael sensed that their was not quite the samearrogance that matt usually had. Still, Michael was convinced he would back up and shoot him down so Michael leaned forward a step, watching untill Matt had found himself someone else to bully. Michael made a poit of ignoring the threats, though the image made him shudder.

With the guard out of the way Michael released a breath he had been holding. His mind swam and he felt his teeth chatter together. Biting down the inmate quelled the sudden surge of anger in his chest and breathed deeply.

" It was stupid." Michael countered, angry at himself for such a poorly planned and dangerous move. Rolling his shoulders to loosen off Michael turned his gaze back on the boy who was for once smiling, for a single moment Jon looked like a normal kid instead of the ghost that so often seemed present. Tucking away the picture Jon rambled on. Turning the ball over in his hands Michael put it down and sat on it, running a thick hand over his shaved head.

Sarah had mentioned Jon in her most recent letters and even on paper Michael could detect the hints of affection which she seemed to have for him. Michael studied the young boy infront of him, resting his head on his fist like a barbaric king of old. What did Sarah see in the kid? He was a lovely guy, and if he was allowed to grow up he'd be a good man in spite of everything that happened to him ( and the chances of this were slim) but he was frail, Before today Michael would have added cowardly to this list of traits but Jon had proved himself otherwise by snatching back the picture.

Michael stared, lost in thought as Jon tried to joke about how akward it would have been if Michael was Sarah's dad. Michael only snapped back to reality when he mentioned Sarah had a boyfriend, which Jon assured him was a nice guy. " Is he?" Michael rumbled, something carniverous creeping into his voice. At last, after a moment or two more courage building Jon voiced his request. Reaching into his jump suit Michael produced a worn old picture of Sarah, battered and dog eared much as Jon's was. " Her address is on the back of this." Michael rumbled. " But you can't have this. I'll not have some Double V asshole take it off of you and pay my little girl a visit. I've heard the stories, and so have you most likely." Michael felt conflicted, but much like himself maybe Sarah needed someone to protect. The Saints were always the fighters in a relationship.

" However." Michael rumbled after a moment. " You can sit down with it now, and memorise the address. Then you can write to her yourself and ask her, but the picture stays with me." Michael avoided commenting on how 'akward' it was when eh turned out to be the father. Instead he merely held the picture up. " Deal?"

[Jon Sheridan]

Jon looked back at the big inmate patently aware of the pent-up anger in the man’s voice as he refuted his enthusiastic outburst of appreciation with a thickly uttered It was stupid. Of course the way Saint had spoken to Delaney had been not just stupid but suicidal, Jon however had mistakenly thought it all part and parcel of who and what Saint was; a guy with balls of steel who didn’t take shit from anyone, not even guards. Now he saw the only reason Saint had challenged Delaney was because he knew what would surely have happened to Jon if he hadn’t planted himself in the way. In saving Jon from the beating Delaney undoubtedly had in store for him he’d placed himself in the firing line, - literally. Saint’s anger was directed at him for being such an idiot and Jon knew it was entirely justified.

“I’m sorry.” he murmured, looking for all the world like a dog that had been kicked.

He could tell by the faraway look in his eyes Saint wasn’t in the least interested in his spiel about Sarah or his mom’s unsuccessful search for her on Facebook. It wasn’t until he made mention of Sarah’s boyfriend and how cool he was that Saint suddenly focused his full attention back on him and muttered a terse Is he? Something in the way he said it set warning bells off in Jon’s head but still the penny didn’t drop that Saint’s reaction was the equivalent of a lion sensing a coyote sniffing around its young. Not until he withdrew an actual photograph of Sarah and handed it to him with explicit instruction he was to memorize the address on the back then return it because he didn’t want any VV scumbag paying his little girl a visit did it finally dawn on Jon he was indeed looking at Sarah’s father. At that moment his heart dropped like a stone and the impossible dream he’d been secretly nurturing over the past few months evaporated into thin air.

His shoulders drooping forward in resignation he stared at the face of the girl who’d saved his life and captivated his heart. “She’s beautiful, inside as well as out.” he murmured, as much to himself as the man he now knew to be her father. After gazing at the photo for several moments he reluctantly handed it back without a single glance at the reverse.

“Delaney tosses my cell nearly every other day. You’re right, he’d just need to see the return address on her letters to know where she lives. She helped save my life, I can’t risk putting hers in danger.”

His defeated expression said it all but still he tried to put on a brave face in front of her father.

“She prob’ly wouldn’t want to write to me anyways and even if she did it would be out of pity cause she felt sorry for me.” he began walking away, pausing for a moment as a thought struck him. “You don’t need to worry about her boyfriend. His name’s Riley and from what I saw he treats her good...made her laugh and gave her hugs and stuff. Anyways, sorry for what happened back there, I won’t bug you again. Just tell Sarah I said hi next time you write her.”