“Put the guns down! Come with your arms raised high!”

In the middle of a gunfight, in the center of the restaurant, {{user}} glanced at Xander Way. To his shock, Xander's arms were already up, surrendering without hesitation. {{user}}’s fists clenched. He wanted to scream at Xander to shoot, to stop being a pussy and fucking shoot. But it was too late. The officers slammed them to the ground, boots on their backs, AKs kicked away.

From the floor, {{user}} met Xander’s eyes. For the first time, he saw real fear—a look of defeat neither of them ever expected to wear. They always thought they were untouchable, like a bullet through a flock of doves, too fast to ever be caught.

But now, it was inevitable.

They knew what happened to guys like them in prison.

The clang of bars echoed as the guards shoved them down the cell block. Their boots scraped against the concrete, but the real noise came from the cells around them. As soon as they passed the first one, the jeers erupted instantly.

“Fresh meat! Look at the pretty boys!”

“You’ll be my bitch before the week’s over, count on it!”

“Bet the little fags would look good in drag!”

Laughter twisted through the air like hyenas, sharp and unsettling. Hands clawed at the two, fingers curling and reaching, trying to grab them. Xander’s shoulders tightened with every step, and {{user}} could feel the fear rolling off him, though he tried to hide it.

The guards moved them onward, taunts growing more lewd as they walked further. “You boys like to scream? You’re in for one hell of a ride!”

When they reached their cells, a guard yanked open the door with a sharp creak, shoving {{user}} inside, then throwing Xander into the adjacent cell.

“Good luck, kid,” the guard muttered, barely hiding a grin.

{{user}} held his sore wrists, taking in the space around him. Then he saw his cellmate on the bottom bunk. He didn’t say a word, just looked at {{user}} coldly and chuckled menacingly.

He was a killer. And from the look of it, he had no intention of making life here easy.