BLACKRIDGE: FORGED FROM FIRE

Ryan Carter POV

"Carter!!! What the heck!!! You better stay indoors, cause if you step out, you definitely die today." My roommate warns, but I refuse to listen.

"Just let me be, Imp. I can't keep running forever." I yawn lazily as I stroll out of my cell.

The first rule of Black Ridge is simple. "If you fall, You die."

The blade flashes before I even see the man holding it. All through the week I have been preparing myself for this moment.

Once the rotten chicken leg drops in front of you, it means you've been challenged to a life and death duel.

You dare not ignore the match. You dare not shy away from the warning. If you do, they'll find a way of killing you anyway.

They'll end you in the most ruthless, unsettling manner.

"Move, Carter!" someone shouts from behind, but it's too late.

The sharp dagger comes straight for my ribs.

I twist sideways as the blade misses my vital organ by an inch, grazing my stomach with infinite pain.

The rusted metal sticks to my shirt as the pain tears through my body and that warm liquid flows down freely.

"He is gone." The bodybuilders stare at me in sympathy. Other inmates watch with horror, but I am bursting with energy.

Something about that cut makes me feel free. It takes my fears away.

"Son of a bitch," I snap.

I punch him hard, breaking his nose right away.

The yard explodes in chaos. Thirty plus inmates scatter away from us, some laughing, cheering, and weirdly, some placing bets on who will come out victorious.

Prison fights are far more chaotic and entertaining than the boring basketball games the guards pretend to supervise.

The man attacking me is huge. He's built like a forbidden tower, neck thick as a tree trunk. Tattooed fighting tiger on his back and throat.

They call him Rico Alvarez, one of the obedient dogs of the notorious Mateo Cruz's gang, street named the Kingsman gang in the prison.

And apparently today I'm his target.

"Let's see how big you talk," he whispers, circling me. His homemade knife glitters in the noon day sun.

The guard tower above us stands still. They have no reason to intervene in the altercation.

Black Ridge guards don't stop fights except someone is bleeding out.

I spit out blood, cleaning my messy chin. "You sure you want to do this?"

He stammers in annoyance. "Mateo wants to send a message."

"Then give him a fucking letter!" I revolt courageously.

My statement greatly triggers him as he blindly rushes at me. That is my survival game here. Get on your last nerve, make you lose composure. In so doing, you'll leave tactics in the bucket and bend toward raw power.

He lunges again. This time he uses blind rage. The blade slices toward my stomach.

I catch his wrist mid air. This time I use his strength against him, snapping his wrist with the impact. The sound of bones snapping sends a terrifying chill as the awkward silence stuns the crowd.

Next thing that follows is Rico's scream. Then the yard explodes with roars.

In desperation he slams his forehead into mine. Stars explode behind my eyes.

Fuck. The pain is unbearable. I stagger back to gain balance, and Rico sees the opening and charges at me again.

I use the rusty knife he abandoned from his agony. Finding shelter under his arms, I stab him thrice, fast, in quick succession.

But the bastard barely feels it. He grabs my shirt and slams me hard against the concrete.

But the impact of my stab begins to wear on him. Blood gushes from his internals as he drops hard on his knees.

Spotting the bleeding, guards finally pour into the yard.

They take out their batons and tasers, raise their weapons as they charge at the rioting crowd.

Rico gasps on the ground beside me, clutching his lower abdomen in horror. I raise my hand slowly in surrender. But the guards here are all ruthless in their approach.

One kicks me in the back of my knees, dropping me hard on the concrete.

They cuff my hands and take Rico away for emergency treatment.

"Well, well, well," a familiar voice sneers.

That disturbing voice of Guard Captain Victor Hale, the man who prides himself in the pain and anguish of resentful inmates.

He grabs my hair, pulling it hard backwards. He whispers into my ear, "Wherever you go, trouble seems to find you, Carter. You can't seem to keep your mouth shut, can you?"

I spit a mouthful of blood at his boots. "Tell your puppet to learn how to fight," I mutter disdainfully.

Then he slams his foot on my jaw. Once more the pain tears through my skull, making my head spin. My head rings as my vision blurs, and glittering stars attack my sight.

"You just earned yourself solitary confinement," Hale growls in annoyance.

"Drag his ass," he commands the guards.

...................

In this prison, solitary confinement isn't just a punishment, it's a warning.

The guards carry me up like sheep leading to the slaughter. My bones ache. My joints yearn for deliverance.

Inmates here are nothing but talking slaves, treated like dogs, and I am the most defiant piece of filth in this private cage. Being the latest to grace the arms of solitary confinement, I've threatened authority and my time of reckoning is at hand.

"I am going to deal with you, make sure you never use those fingers to hurt anyone again." Victor flexes his muscles as he searches out one of his dangerous toys.

I stare at him, rage clearly brewing in my face, gnashing my teeth in fury.

"Such impudence, without remorse. Who do you think you are?"

"The one who just destroyed one of your dogs," I revolt, spitting directly into his face.

"You son of a bitch." He rushes at me and kicks me hard in the nut.

I desperately hold onto my balls, hoping this monster hasn't ended my poor generations to come. 

He squats down and whispers, "This is just the beginning of hell on earth."

Victor suddenly stops the attack, arranging his shirt professionally. 

Why the sudden act? Why the preparation?

As I ponder on what to do and how to survive solitary cell for the sixth time, I hear his footsteps. The slow paced, calculated marching of the wicked prison bandit, greatly feared and revered by all the inmates, Samuel Vale.

He stands like a statue in black, towering shoulders above the guards standing behind him.

Looking down at me like a piece of trash, his voice echoes, shaking the cell walls. "Uncuff him."

Victor Hale tries to refute. "But sir, it's dangero..."

"I said uncuff him."

"Right away sir." Victor Hale uncuffs my bloody hands and I heave a temporary sigh of relief.

"Leave us." His voice roars once more.

Victor Hale stares at him with suspicion as he exits the door, slamming it loudly. The sound sends chills through me.

He takes off his cap and unbuckles the heavy leather belt. The sharp sound from the belt clicking the floor jolts me back to reality.

"You seem to be immersed in thoughts, Carter. Let me bring you back to reality." He pushes me hard against the cold concrete.

"You thought a riot would get my attention, right? Congratulations, it did." He presses his knee against my head and I struggle to breathe.

He grabs my hair and pulls it hard backwards, dragging me to my knees. I growl in immense pain.

"Shut up." He punches me hard across my jaw, and in seconds the left side of my jaw goes numb.

"Ryan," he growls, leaning over, the smell of his cologne intoxicating me with fear. "I'm going to teach you what 'discipline' means in this world."

"Now use your mouth. Pick up my belt."

I know it's a trap, and that's the most humiliating moment in prison, but I am too weak to resist. When he sees I hesitate, he pushes my head downward toward the belt.

AHH that's it" in seconds he is already behind me, staring lustfully at my butthole. 

Bend well let me feel it, he says. And before I could utter a word his full length sinks into me. Mix of pain and pleasure makes me gasp for air.

"Damn so tight and hot, just like I want it!" he moans loudly.

"Bend well carter! I am your salvation boy! Right here, I am the judge and jury, the defender and executioner!" He plunged further as he talks dirty.

"Stop it", I clench my fist.

"Ummmmm. I like it when you beg. It takes me to cloud nine."

In five minutes, I feel shame embracing me like a shield, and when he feels satisfied, he pets my head tenderly.

"You did well, Carter. I'm officially your godfather here." He smiles.

I want to end him in this moment, want to make him pay for what he has just done.

And as fate would have its way, I see the tip of his belt, a sharp skull engraved in it, sharp enough to take a life, even if it means dying by the firing squad.