Fandom: Blake's 7
Paring: none
Rating: PG or M, I can't decide
Status: New, complete
Archive: If you ask nicely :)
Series/Sequel: Part Two - The Cat Who Walks Alone
Disclaimers: The aren't mine. I only own Benni, Makaney and the prisoners and guards. Oh, and the plot line. All the rest I just borrowed.
Notes: Hanofer. Thank you. I'm never going to get sick of thanking you for all the help you gave me.
Summary: Released from solitary, the last of the Blake's 7 team is fighting in the maximum security prison to survive and escape, not only the prison, but his own mind and memories.
Warnings: Discussion of rape, violence.
The hall was a blessing for the man. He had not seen anything but the four walls, ceiling and door that made up his cell for the last, well, however long. Time somehow ceased to mean anything once you were inside the isolation cells. One light, constantly on, you lost all sense of days, nights, weeks.
For him however, it had been long enough. He was out, and he intended to stay that way. For good.
He had been receiving visits from Servalan for three months. That added up to six long months in the isolation cell, roughly. She had coaxed him gently, and slowly, he had emerged from his shell. It was little by little, a word or two here, a hesitant touch there, but he had come out, let her believe he still remembered nothing, let her believe that he had been won over by her and her little mind-altering drugs that laced his food.
Only a true fool would believe that he didn't have the willpower to resist them. His life may have been destroyed, but he had one reason to keep on fighting.
He had revenge.
Finally, she had believed his act enough to let him out. He was to be removed from isolation and put into the general quarters of the prison. Execution was suspended indefinitely.
He had never seen anything as good as the dingy mess hall in front of him. Servalan smiled at him and held up a photograph. "Look at this."
He looked at it. Vila Restal. He would never forget that mischievous face. "What of it, Servalan?" he asked dispassionately.
"Do you know this man?" she purred.
"No, Servalan. Should I? Is he from my past?"
"Your past doesn't matter anymore, Kerr. You are mine."
"I know, Servalan." He hung his head to gaze at the floor, lest she see the anger and hatred that burned in his eyes. She took the action as one of servility. "You will stay here until I can arrange for you to be pardoned. Then, you can stay in a place befitting your mind and status."
"I look forward to the day," he mumbled.
"Also, look at this. Does it mean anything?"
He looked at a piece of paper she held to him. His friends' faces, collaged together in a macabre trophy to signal her eventual triumph. "No, Servalan. I do not recognise any of these people," he stated bluntly. The cold tones should help her believe that he felt nothing.
"Very good, Kerr. The guards will take you to your cell. Remember, play nicely or I may have to reconsider your release."
"Yes, Servalan. I will be on my best behaviour at all times."
"Good." With that, she stroked her hand along his cheek, smiled and left. He finally let a little of his disgust through into his expression as he peered below him.
"Oi, what's your number?"
He looked up at the guard. "MS 11 5 18 18 1 22 15 14."
"Conviction."
"Murder, theft, treason, terrorism, and piracy." He rolled his eyes. "Done?"
"You will be referred to as 11 14 by all guards. You will answer to that as soon as you hear it. Whatever you scum call each other doesn't matter to us. You get in trouble, get yourself out. We aren't here to babysit you, just make sure you don't get out. Got it?"
"Quite."
"You're in cell 113. You have a cell mate already there." The guard chuckled. The prisoner raised an eyebrow. "Something amusing about him?"
"His last cell mate died under suspicious circumstances. Good luck 11 14."
He rolled his eyes and walked down the grating catwalk to his new cell.
It was empty when he got there. the prison had an interesting policy to say the least. Prisoners wandered where they wanted to in the grounds and hall
from breakfast time, at six in the morning, till after tea, at nine. They were expected to work at times, but when not on work shift, your time, and your problems, were yours.
A way of guaranteeing no one had time to escape. You had to fight to stay alive; there was no time to plan to get out when you were struggling for your life.
"Oi, what yer doing in me cell?"
The voice made him spin in surprise. A tall, brutish looking man stood in the doorway. "What yer doing 'ere?"
"I have been moved here from solitary."
The man leered slightly. "Oh yeah? Yer gonna be me new play thing?"
He scowled. "Hardly."
"Yer will be, if yer know what's good fer yer."
"I hardly think that anyone would consider you good for them."
The man scowled and lumbered closer, trying to pin him with his bulk against the wall. "It won't be too bad on yer. No one need touch yer if yer play nice like." He pulled himself up to his somewhat impressive full height. "No one in 'ere crosses Makaney."
"And why not? I can't see what there is to cower from."
Makaney swiftly backhanded his smaller cell mate, who didn't even blink. "I killed six security guards and ran a street gang for twelve years. I'm the top dog in here 'n' don't yer forget it pretty boy. Alphas like yer don't last in here." He smiled cruelly. "I ain't never had no pretty boy Alpha before. What 'appen? Play piece o' meat to the wrong guy?"
He raised an eyebrow and raised one hand in a manner that felt very familiar. "I was arrested for murder, treason, terrorism, theft, and that was all they could prove against me." His lips twisted in a mask of contempt, directed at his opponent. "I have killed more security than you have ever seen."
"Oh yeah? Yer look like a little daddy's boy, caught with the wrong person. You ain't gonna last two minutes in 'ere if you ain't nice to Makaney." He leered again and grabbed his 'playmate' by the shoulders. "And Makaney wants to play hide and seek with his new friend." He licked his lips and leered further. "Nice little piece of arse yer got there. Mind if I borrow it?"
"Some what, yes." He kicked savagely, hitting his target. Makaney dropped like a stone, clutching his groin and whimpering. The blow was followed by a kick to the jaw and he pounced on his cell mate, twisting his legs around the larger man's neck. He chuckled slightly. "I could break your neck, you idiot. Don't mess with me, or next time, I will kill you. You move against me, I will kill you as you sleep." He tightened the pressure being exerted by his wiry legs. "Got it, Makaney?"
"Aye, I got it, I got it!" he cried in pain. "Jus' lemme go!"
He untwisted his legs and stood, staring at the amazed faces around him. "What are you looking at?" he spat at them. "Get lost. Makaney and I were working out a little business."
A man pushed through to the front. "That's Makaney there. You know what you done?"
"Yes. Apparently I am not as simple minded as the rest of you. Get lost."
The crowd murmured slightly and Makaney moaned again. The same man took another step closer. "I don't think you understand, mate. We don't take kindly to someone attacking our friend."
The glint was back, ice and fire dancing across the dark eyes. "You don't want to push it. I've not had a good day."
"It's going to get worse before it gets better," the other man said. He pulled out a sharp knife. "We stick together in our group."
"How touching. It's like you almost care about him." He laughed slightly. "Go home, little boy. You play with fire, you're going to burn." He turned deadly serious and glared at the man. "You play with me, and I'll cut your throat with your own knife. I'm not in the mood to be pestered by children."
"Children!" the man roared. "You call me a child!"
"I call you nothing but what you are. You have no idea of the world."
A second man plucked at the knife wielder's shirt. "Back off, Benni. This guy's dangerous. He ain't scared of nothing. He already took down Makaney."
Benni snarled. "I'm gonna get you, whoever you are, whatever you are. You ain't nothing but an Alpha in here."
He smiled at the scowl. "Who I am doesn't matter, nor what I was. You should listen to your friend." His face fell emotionless again. "The man who has nothing to live for has nothing to fear. I have been to hell and back. You can't scare me, Alpha or no."
Slowly, the crowd dissipated, leaving the wounded Makaney and his assailant. Only one man lingered slightly, his mouth moving in silent words. He knew that voice well, though it had never had that touch of rage before, that touch of fevered passion for something.
Oh yes, he knew that man well. He was dead six months and gone from life.
The dead was walking and fighting back.
****
End part two.