Deckard

3.

Something Special

Being locked away in a CIA detention black site is never going to be a party. Three months in this hell makes it hard to distinguish between which bit of concrete is the ceiling and which bit of concrete is the floor. Two years in total being hidden from the world in black site units. My own crazy thoughts the only thing to keep me company as I'm the only female in this pit. It's going to drive a girl crazy. 

After being in a high security female prison where I practically beat the crap out of anyone that came near me, they moved me here,- illegally- to see if the men could tame the wild animal. 

There's only one man who can tame this beast.  

None of these inmates seem to be able to get it into their thick skulls that because I broke nearly every bone in their friends body, they're not going to end up any different. Which lead to me being in solitary confinement with no free time being shared with anyone else apart from the guards with their loaded rubber bullets and tasers. 

The bright orange jump suit that I've rolled up to my elbows to reveal the long sleeved white tee underneath does wonders in hiding my built figure as I sit poised, like a snake waiting to strike, on the rickety metal bed. I watch with hawk eyes through the bulletproof glass doors as the guards wander back and forth. 

"When will afternoon tea be arriving?" I cheekily ask in a very fake British accent. My Northern English accent having attracted a lot of attention, because these Americans believe that if you don't have a London accent and you're from the North of England, you're Scottish. Bull-Shit. 

Northern England is not Scotland boys. I grew up below that blue border line. Neither, do I drink Iron Bru as if it's water and chase haggis round a hill. Idiots. 

I watch as three guards walk past with their backs more ridged than I've seen in a while with stone expressions on their faces that not even Medusa could muster up. Happy days I must be getting a new neighbough, considering I've put the last two in the most amazing comas of their lives... one they'll never wake up from. 

Intreeged, I uncurl my crossed legs and stand quietly on the scratched concrete floor before stretching out my back with a lazy groan. My stomach and leg muscles aching slightly at the work out I completed on the  cool ground earlier this morning to pass a few precious hours. Without a sound, my pump covered feet dance across the small cell so that I can place my hands against the heavy door frame that's meant to keep me in- meant being the key word- with small reminats of blood splatters from the previous guard who wanted to disturb me from my sleep discovered when I dragged him in here and gave him a good beating. 

"Is it someone good looking this time?" I smile as I watch down the long corridor for the new prisoner to arrive. No one knows that I'm married to a Shaw and I want to keep it that way. If they knew... I don't think it could make that much difference as I seem to already be in Hell and I'm quiet enjoying it. 

I huff in annoyance as I listen to the clanking of numerous pairs of feet on the grated, metal, floor shuffling towards my cadge. Lifting my right arm above my head I rest my forearm against the metal frame of the window and peer casually down the corridor with mild interest as to whom has everyone edgy today. 

My breathing stops when I hear a familiar voice,

"You sure you've brought enough back up Hobb's?" His spine tingling voice sneers shock seeps deep into my bones. 

"Ah they ain't mine," A stuck up, male, deep American voice cockily says, "they're here to protect you, from me killing you're ass," 

My eyes widen in fear, the guard opposite my cell smirking at what he thinks is fear for my own life against my new roomie- no- I'm just good at acting and hopefully this will play right into our hands.

A siren blares as the door to the cell beside me is opened. Meaning I don't catch a glimpse at my husband  due to all the armed guards surround him like bees do to a flower. 

"You do know, none of this will keep me right." His husky voice states rather than questions- I love this side of him. All dominance and confidence as he makes a threat.

A low chuckle has a small frown slithering onto my face at this mans arrogance. Having both of us in the same prison, in cells within such close proximity is a recipe for a beautiful disaster without even intentionally doing a thing. 

"Well once you dig through thirty-eight feet of concrete and steel, my fists and a body bag will be waiting for you on the other side," the arrogant man smirks, "So I suggest you get to digging boy."

Oh I'm sure he won't even see us coming; stuck up bitch. 

The door closes and all the guards begin to file out of the cramped corridor, an extra guard or two I noticed posted around.

It's deathly silent after as they retreat; silence more un-nerving than shouting and threats as everyone settles down back into their routines. 

I gently close my eyes and let out a half hearted sigh before silently moving back over to the rigid bed against the bland wall. 

"Well, well, well," I smirk as I lay down on the bed and tuck my hands behind my head as I relax a little, "Never thought I would see the day one of the Shaw brothers ended up behind bars," 

I listen to the silence and know he is just as shocked as I was for fate to have us reunited. A bloody miracle. 

"Ah, missy," his familiar tone soothing me, "you've been away for a long time. And fancy having a pretty sounding lady like you, in a shit hole like this," I hear him smirk with his teasing, "I like a bad girl,"

I smile as the guards become unsettled with our flirting, unsure how to deal with the situation. 

"Well why don't you come in here and I'll show you," I temp in a slightly husky voice- one I know will have my husband closing his eyes and setting his square jaw ridged. 

"That's Enough!" I gaurd shouts as he bangs on our doors causing the both of us to cackle loudly like the madmen. 

How fate is a luxurious thing.