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One Way Out - Chapter 13

Hey guys, Poke here! Once again, I have failed you all with regards to my updates. This time the excuse is that Sixth Form has started, and I have been getting pile after pile of coursework to complete, and hence haven't had much time to write new chapters. It doesn't help that I'm still suffering from writer's block! So, I will have to warn you that my updates will be really unpredictable until further notice. They may come within a week of the last, or they may come nearly two months later! Just stand by, and be patient!

Without further delay, I bring you the thirteenth chapter of One Way Out!

So, this was it! I had finally gotten my one-way ticket out of this stupid infirmary. And to be honest, it had come at nary a better time! I think Nico and his clique were especially getting fed up of only seeing me for half-an-hour every other day, but I was seriously starting to think that Kaz was getting symptoms of separation anxiety.

Every time I saw him, his voice became slightly more sadder, and I could easily tell when he left, he always had a sullen, dejected scowl on his face, even in the cases where I could barely move (yes, I HAD to mention that goddamned morphine again...).

Thankfully, he should get better.

When I finally got up out of that naval cot, I had noticed quite a few stress marks on my legs, which were admittedly, quite deep. I wouldn't have put it past me that if these would degenerate into bedsores if I stayed any longer in there.

I felt a bit stiff as I got up, finally being able to remove the hospital wear that had been on me for a good three and a half weeks. Plus, the musk was enough to show that hygiene obviously was _not_the strong point of Nacrene Prison Infirmary.

Fortunately they were kind enough to let me at least shower before heading back to the cells. I soon slumped towards a door that looked was unusually metallic, had an old silver colour to it, and featured nothing on it but a doorhandle.

This led into a tiny room with only a sink, toilet and a shower which was attached to the wall. To be honest, it was commonplace in prison society, so I couldn't really complain. My arms were nearly stuck to my chest, thanks to the lack of cleanliness, and I needed to put a stop to this.

When I stepped into the shower, a torrent of warm water hit me, and for a while, I just stood there, frozen as I let it soak me. It was as if the hot water was literally wiping my troubled mind clean, and after I came back to my senses, the trauma of the past few weeks had finally hit me. I knew I was probably a marked man, and that I'd end up being targeted again.

But guess what? Instead of screaming or shouting or wailing, I just shed tiny tears, and looked down at the floor. No point in making further humiliation of myself. I just gazed back up at the shower basin, and cleaned my face of any evidence of upset.

After drying myself off with the huge sheet of sandpaper that I was supposed to call a towel, I just stared at myself in the small mirror atop the sink. A large crack on the bottom right corner almost rendered anything there unreadable. But one thing that caught my attention was that my chest seemed to be showing something.

The lines across my chest looked like pec muscles, as I had done a lot of manual labour recently... But more alarmingly, another thought niggled at me. They could have been the outline of my ribs... I wouldn't say that the latter option was not possible, as I HAD been restricted to a bed, and couldn't really eat much thanks to the drugs...

But as I was about to examine myself furthermore, a huge knock on the door snapped me back to my senses, along with a booming voice:

"Hey, Angelo! You finished yet?" I heard the voice from outside ask, loud and clear. It didn't take long for me to recognise it as the voice of the suspiciously omnipresent Dirty Scissors. After realising I had nothing to wear, I called out:

"Uh, yeah! Just need to get dressed!"

I heard a slight grunt from outside, before a rather hurried reply. "Sure. Your jumpsuit's out here, just make sure you look spiffy before you get out..."

Guess that meant covering a certain spot down south...

Nonetheless, I did what he said, and wrapped the rather rough towel around my waste, before slowly coming out. The Scizor just gave me a rather disinterested look before pointing to the bed.

"There." He motioned to a familiar blue suit. "Put that on and meet me outside in a minute." And with that, he exited the room slowly, only to stand guard outside. So much for privacy...

After looking around, I finally managed to fit into my old jumpsuit. It smelt just as I had remembered it. That is, of old socks and sweat. Perfect analogy, isn't it?

I then slipped into the boots I was now required to wear, and they felt like a fucking ton. I actually dropped them on the ground, and the resulting 'thud' nearly made me deaf! Other than that, the boots felt rather comfy, and would most definitely work as an effective weapon, if I was to ever be accosted by Slick Mick and his cronies again.

I then took a deep breath and stepped out of the same infirmary that had been keeping me bound and drugged for a month, and into a familiar corridor. I then looked at Dirty Scissors, who just nodded and directed me north, into the rather claustrophobic corridor which me and Marcel had dragged me through when we dropped Delrin off, just a few weeks ago.

Apart from the occasional dim light illuminating our path (somewhat), the corridor was nothing but total darkness. For about a minute, it was just total black, until I literally saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Not wanting to waste any time, I rushed ahead, and found myself in the same cell hall that I had grown to miss during my stay in the infirmary.

The afternoon sun shined through the windows ahead, and despite my original enthusiasm to see Kaz, it became apparent that the entire hall was empty, and all the inmates had been sent to afternoon work.

At this point I turned my head towards the Scizor in a rather bewildered manner, who just told me: "Just get to your cell, Angelo. You got the afternoon off this once. Should be a good few hours to yourself..." That was quite relieving. I really didn't have any plans to be sent straight back to the labour line, even _if_I was essentially this prison's property.

I did what Dirty Scissors said, and just followed him up the same metallic stairs which I had actually grown to miss during my spell in the infirmary.

But when I passed Slick Mick's cell, I immediately became a bit worried, as my heart started pounding, and a bit of sweat started to form on my forehead. I even stopped to stare inside, wondering what that sick bastard had to show.

It looked rather empty at first glance, with both top and bottom bunk made up in a rather standard manner, and soon my attention focused to the wall, which was decorated with many, many pictures of various Pokémon. Some were photographs, but most looked like rather skilful drawings. But the expressions on many of the faces were one of horror and fear.

Then it hit me. It must be Slick Mick's wall of victims... Why else would they have such negative faces? Why would they be in such a high quantity? I couldn't really see if a servine was on that wall, but before I could investigate further, a rather firm nudge to my side brought me back to reality.

"Hey! Stop snoopin' around. Haven't got all day for the likes of you!" Dirty Scissors warned, before taking a look for himself.

"Ah, it's that rapist's cell. That little stunt he pulled with ya got himself about a month in the hole." I then let out a sigh of relief.

"So you should be alright for a few days." Well, I guess it was better than nothing. It also gave me some time to bulk up both physically and mentally. Well, to the best of my ability, I suppose. Hopefully Marcel would be able to follow through on those promises of training me.

After that, I just walked me way into my domain, otherwise known as my cell, and took a deep breath before stepping into that dull, lifeless room. However, the second I walked in, I felt... at home.

Before I knew it, the Scizor had slammed that barred door home, and I heard the familiar metallic clank the wall. I then faced Dirty Scissors, but his reply consisted of a simple nod, and then walking away in the opposite direction of where we came.

Looks like I had some time to myself.

I sat down on the bed with a rather overwhelmed sigh, as I had finally exited that tedious, dank place where I couldn't even shower on a regular basis. I know that regular prison isn't that much of a perk, but at least you got three meals a day, a shower, and a regular change of uniform. Even IF you had to worry about the constant threat of being sodomized by a sex-crazed gang of perverts.

Fortunately, those bastards who had tried to make a similar example of me were most likely stuck in some cubicle with only their thoughts to keep them company. Just hope it doesn't give those scumbags the opportunity to ponder and fantasise about what sinful activities they wish to deliver unto their victims, both present and future.

Hell, at that time, they were probably plotting about what they were going to do to me next, and when they were gonna do it. I supposed that word got around fast, and it wouldn't be foolish to guess that this news would have eventually reached whatever form of solitary confinement that Slick Mick the Dick and his cronies were occupying.

Wait a minute, "guess"? I think I ought to change that to know. Imagine yourself in their shoes. To them, a second chance to get at the same guy who landed them in the hole, do you think they would take it? I don't think that they would turn down such a chance. It's common knowledge that serial rapists are very opportunistic in picking and brutalising their victims. See, even a petty thief such as myself can know a thing or two about basic psychology!

But to be honest, I needed to think about more substantial things. In particular, when the hell was Kaz gonna show up and give a big ol' hug?! Wait, what am I saying? I think my time in here has caused me to go... mellow.

After that, I just lied down on my bunk, and stared up at the gritty ceiling, not really concentrating my mind on any particular subject. For quite a while, all that niggled my mind was the feeling of nothingness. And weirdly, this feeling caused me... to close my eyes, slowly but surely, and fall asleep.

When I did enter this land of bedlam, nothing greeted me. I was stuck in a world of purgatory, with only blackness greeting my sight. A deep sleep.

I guess this was to do with the fact that I hadn't really been able to get much rest except for short intervals of napping during my stay in that accursed infirmary. Plus, the mattress actually felt more comfy that it had previously.

And to be honest, I wasn't sure when I was gonna wake up. Even if I was stuck in a deep sleep with no dreams to occupy my mind, it was certainly pleasant enough to my body.

...Just a shame that my pleasurable slumber was brought to an abrupt end by several nudges to my right shoulder. My eyes immediately flashed open, and I hurriedly scanned the room, looking for the person who had woke me up.

And lo and behold, my eyes went to the foot of my bunk, and a very familiar face greeted me. It was none other than my cellmate, Kaz. But I guess you guys saw that coming, right? Nonetheless, I was happy to hear these following words:

"Wakey wakey, Mr Snakey!" Kaz's cheerful voice rang out, and I immediately jumped off the bunk, shooting a huge beam at him.

"I'm glad to see you too, Kaz! Finally back where I belong..." I replied, still keeping my grin. Kaz immediately responded in kind, and even pulled me into a rather strong hug. All I can say is, if you thought this guy was built before, you need to feel it to believe it!

After about two minutes, the Prussian Blue Samurott finally released me from his grip and asked me in rather textbook fashion: "So how have ya been, Vito?" ...Same old Kaz.

And after that, we basically had an hour-long conversation about cleanliness, the infirmary, Tom Clancy (turns out he's a fan, as well), Dirty Scissors, and most notably: Slick Mick and his rag-tag gang of sodomites.

"You can't let those bastards take advantage of you again, Vito!" Kaz exclaimed as I kept my passive-aggressive stance on them. I knew that at this present stage, I wouldn't have a chance against them. Knowing them they'd wear my ass out like a fucking glove!

"But Kaz, how the hell can I stop them?!" I answered back, "They're some of the strongest fucking guys I've ever seen! I'm not really gonna be able to beat them away, am I?"

But Kaz remained adamant: "You need to take Marcel's offer, Vito. For your safety. I nearly tore that Haxxorus bastard's head off when I found him in that room, ready to screw you into a goddamn coma!"

Guess I wasn't gonna be slipping out of this one. Eh, I guess it would have its perks. I mean, I'd have a body that many a Servine would happily give a leg for, and I suppose that it would keep away any potential rapists, since I could basically render their face unrecognisable. I know! I'm thinking WAY too ahead, but goddamn, thinking of it at that particular moment, I wanted it more than anything in Arceus' green world!

But soon one huge shout from outside caught me completely off-guard.

"Okay, l ights out!" boomed a voice from outside, which was presumably that of the lead guard of this hall. Slowly, the hall got darker and darker, with each section's lights turning off, one by one...

Soon, this blackout reached out section, and I could only faintly see Kaz, but fortunately, I didn't mind this. And to my surprise, after all the lights had gone out, he let a huge grin take reign across his face, and he reached into his jumpsuit.

"Vito... I want you to close your eyes, and hold out your right hand..." Kaz whispered to me, a rather teasing tone in his voice. At that moment, I really didn't know what to expect, but did what he asked, regardless.

A few seconds later, something hard, and cold hit the palm of my scaly right hand. As I felt around it, I immediately recognised it to be something cylindrical, and certainly chilled. And before you ask, no, it was not a certain sexual organ, you foul perverts!

"Okay... Open your eyes!"

I did as Kaz said once again, and a bottle greeted my eyes. To be specific, a bottle of Chechenya Plains Vodka greeted my eyes. One of my favourite drinks! I immediately looked at Kaz, who only smiled back.

"A little welcome-back present, Vito. I got Nico and El Rey to do the work. It's on the house, don't worry!" And with that, he took the bottle back and removed the screw cap off the bottle, and a strong scent greeted me.

Kaz wasted no time in taking a rather large swig of the bottle, and after a shiver of pleasure, handed the bottle to me, nodding. I hesitated only for a slight second before taking the bottle into my mouth, and necking down nearly half a litre of the precious beverage. Kaz saw this and barely held himself back from laughing.

We made up a little drinking session for about another 10 minutes, until things started getting a little hazy. I couldn't really remember what I said, and I think Kaz was in a similar way. Guess the liquor was stronger than we thought...

Hell, the last thing I remember is Kaz, who visually was a blue blur at that point... presumably pushing me down onto his bunk, and... everything became really blurry after that.

However, I didn't know it at that point, but everything that happened at that point would become much clearer in the morning... Much, MUCH more clearer.

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**...So, what do you think happened during Vito and Kaz's drunken escapade? Is the answer more obvious than one may think? Find out in the next chapter of One Way Out! Be sure to leave a review, and replace any potential flames with constructive criticism! Both you and me can benefit a lot from this!

Until next time, this is PokéCJG, signing out!**