Obsession of Prisoner VII

"My brother will find me, Carter," I said as I looked at the older cruel looking wrinkled man in front of me as the sound of chains on the ground seemed to fill his momentary silence. 

"I don't think I've ever heard of an American Don who needed his big brother's help," he replied cockily with a smirk and I narrowed my eyes at his ugly face. 

"Well, not every American Don's older brother is Axwell," I replied, my tone levelled and cold as it always was. 

He stepped up to me, his face an inch away from my chest as he craned his neck to look up at me and meet my eyes, "I don't know you are, and I don't know who he is, but I'm one hell of a threat because here I have you, the American Don..." 

He snarled at me, and I simply tightened my fists, calming my inner beast which could snap his neck easily. I wouldn't have hesitated to take care of him, I wouldn't have hesitated if there wasn't five big security guards surrounding me, holding stun sticks, and the chains wrapped tightly around my wrists all the way to around my ankles. 

The entire room was surrounded by gunmen, all pointing their guns at me and I knew not to do anything foolish, after all, Axwell will find me and I'll get my revenge. 

He took a step back and a guard came and placed a black leather mask over my face, "I hope you like the mask I made for you." 

The guard then stepped back and Carter placed his hands behind his back, maintaining a straight posture which did not rival mine, "you are not allowed to take off that mask, until you're alone or with those in authority," Carter instructed, "welcome to your new home, American Don, or should I say, Prisoner VII." 

He turned and began to lead the way, all the guards and gunmen moving with our footsteps as he opened the huge gates which led down a long hallway filled with noise and men cheering and leering, wearing silver overalls and here I was, followed by fifty gunmen and bodyguards surrounding me, a mask covering my face, and dressed in black overalls with black heavy boots and the chains making loud noises with every step I took. 

The entire place quieted down as all of the prisoners stepped back and watched the whole scene, no words said as they parted like the red sea, as we made our way through and passed the cells, turning into another long hallway where a single cell waited right at the end of the passage. 

Carter stopped walking and took out a set of keys, unlocking and opened the big silver door, and then looked at me. I glanced at the guards beside me who had nudged me, giving them a long look and I saw them visibly swallow hard as I took steps into the cell. 

"You can take off your mask. This is your cellmate, Mason," Carter said as I looked at the man who lay on the bed on the one side of the room. He was looking up at the ceiling, not moving, "enjoy your stay, Prisoner VII." 

Carter then stepped up to me and unlocked my chains. They clattered to the floor as he stepped back and left the room. I remained standing where I had been for some time before massaging my wrists as I walked to my side of the cell. 

Mason turned around and faced me, "you gon' take off that mask, buddy?" He asked me as though I was supposed to have ripped it off of my face. 

I sat down in the bed, not answering him as I massaged my neck and then reached behind my head, unhooking the mask as I took it off slowly, in no rush. When I was done, I unzipped my black overall, letting my body breathe as I laid down on the thin mattress, not bothering to take off my boots. 

"What are you in here for?" I finally asked when I had gotten as comfortable as I could. 

"I ran the biggest underground death games in Cuba," Mason answered, "you?" 

"American Don." 

"Damn," he said, chuckling, "I've never heard of you, though." 

"As it should be," I said, giving him a short answer, "what is this place?" I asked him after some time. 

"I think it's owned by the government or the CIA, you know, those shifty organisations that make you believe you can trust them and that they'll protect you," Mason began, moving around on his bed and it made a noise, "truth is, I don't know this place, none of us do, but it's got to be illegal and really private. All of the people in here didn't go to trial. We just all somehow ended up here. We're all in here for either murder or drugs." 

"Has anybody left this place?" I asked him, looking at the dull white ceiling. 

"Yeah, in a body bag," he said, chuckling, "well, seems like we're going to have to just get along, because judging from the way you entered this place, you're most definitely going to be in here for a long time." 

I closed my eyes, not having the effort or finding it necessary to tell him that I'd be out of this place in a matter of a month if it was hard for my brother to find me. There was no way I was going to stay here any longer than need be, and I knew Axwell was thinking the same. 

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