Tartaros

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Tartaros

Schneider caught my swinging hand going at a hundred miles per hour by the wrist before the shank sank into his neck. A droplet of blood materialized where the tip of the blade nicked the sensitive flesh, so very red and perfectly round. Eyes widening into saucers, my hand instinctively let go of the shank, the dangerous tool cluttering to the floor and under one of the few upright cafeteria tables.

"Schneider!" I gasped. Shock gave way to relief at Schneider's lightning-quick reflexes. If he hadn't caught my hand... I didn't dare imagine the outcome.

"What the hell are you doing?" He didn't raise his voice, but the fury in his voice was unmistakable. Schneider was pissed. At me.

I flinched.

Schneider released my hand.

"I was helping-"

He was gone.

I turned around in a circle, searching the cafeteria -very much still in chaos- for the bespectacled guy, but he was nowhere to be seen. He'd fled while I'd been risking my life for his, attempting to fight off his would-be rapists.

I mean, I told him to run the moment I managed to get the hulking guy off of him, but for him to actually ditch me like this...

A bitter taste soured my mouth at his ingratitude, but I didn't regret my decision to come to his aid. And then it occurred to me that the timid man was scared, and just the thought prompted me into a forgiving mood. I, more than anyone perhaps, understood what it was like to be somewhere I didn't belong. I knew the fear -the gut-clawing dread and soul-crushing hopelessness- he had felt while the raping bastards held him down and ripped down his pants.

I shoved back at the shudder that attempted to overtake me, refusing to allow memories of my attempted rape to crowd my head again, but it seemed that Schneider had glimpsed some of it on my face, because his face softened just the slightest bit, the stormy clouds of his eyes clearing. He regarded me with so much... emotion. There was the same desire he'd held for me since the day we met, yes. But there was now something more.

For a moment, I thought he would take me into his arms and hold me. And I was surprised to find myself eagerly awaiting the embrace, the feel of his strong arms wrapping around me and holding me tight, memories of the time he spent holding and loving me still fresh in my mind.

But then he turned to the lowlives and everything about his face hardened once more. Lightning flashed in his darkening eyes, his jaws set.

Boy was I happy not to be the receiver of that death glare.

"Boss, I didn't know! I-I didn't know he's your bitch!" Prattled the hulking guy.

The other one who'd attacked me from behind couldn't even muster the words. He looked like he would break into tears any moment now. Both fools were as white as a paper sheet.

I looked between the three of them, knowing that I was witnessing something new and profound. In this place of gangs, guards and hierarchy, this was a power play, hyenas yielding to the lion king, begging for mercy.

It was frankly remarkable; seeing the effect Schneider had on the other inmates. I never doubted he commanded respect, or at the very least authority, but to see him imbue such paralyzing fear into the hearts of men bigger than himself was fascinating.

They were utterly terrified of Schneider.

Good, I thought vengefully. Let them know the fear they'd instilled in their victim. Let them know what it was like to feel threatened and under someone's mercy.

"Go back to the cell." Instructed Schneider, his narrowed eyes still fixed on the two offenders.

A part of me wanted to stay and see how this encounter would unfold, but common sense and self-preservation told me to obey his command. As much as I wanted to see Schneider beat their asses into the ground -as I assumed he would- the place was turning into a literal zoo. It was becoming increasingly dangerous to remain in the cafeteria. I was at risk of catching a flying fist, and I doubted I had the reflexes to seize it like Schneider.

"Go with him." This, Schneider instructed one of his men, a guy I hadn't seen before. He'd been standing a few paces behind Schneider, but I failed to take note of him until now.

For my protection, I assumed.

Warmth flooded my chest.

I followed my escort out of the cafeteria. He was much more useful than I expected him to be; he ended up clearing the way out for us, removing any 'obstacles' in our path. I doubted I would have extracted myself quite so efficiently and without incurring a scratch or two.

Mere moments after we exited, armed guards in S.W.A.T-like uniforms swarmed into the cafeteria, unleashing canisters of tear gas. It was a sight I'd only ever seen in action movies or news reports covering warzones and protests. The place was rapidly flooded with gas; in less than ten seconds it was all I could see through the open double door. The rising screams and shouts of inmates penetrated the blaring sirens. It was Tartaros.

"Let's go before we get caught; the prison is now on lockdown. There will be hell to pay for anyone caught outside their cell."

Concern for Schneider lanced through me. "What about-"

"He'll be fine." My escort assured me, and then continued on. "Come on."

For now, I had no choice but to believe that. 

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

A bit of foreshadowing...? <.<

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