Blood Brothers: Chapter 1, Part 2

My heart was beating at a frantic rate and I felt my palms get sweaty as the bus finally passed the last control post. The dust whirled up as we crossed the rocky surface of the ground beneath us, and the sky was clear blue and free of any clouds. The sun was as intense as ever and so was the excitement within me; I felt the smile tug at the corners of my mouth as I looked up at the few watchtowers placed along the fence. Although it was two of them, and they were lined with barb wire, I've also heard that in medium security you won't get shot the minute you try to climb it. Which was strangely relieving.
I let out a small laugh as the bus finally came to a holt in front of the huge, gray building; who would have thought I would ever get this excited to meet potentially dangerous inmates in what looked like a remnant from the second world war.  But it wasn't the same person walking in these gates in handcuffs that had entered the courtroom all that time ago; my values had certainly changed a lot since then.
Rudely interrupting my trail of thoughts and tearing my gaze away from my new home, my guard unlocked the cuffs keeping me in the seat; «Time to get moving.» I did my best to give him a cold stare as I got up but the humoured look on his face told me I didn't really succeed; I was far too busy keeping all my contradictive feelings at bay to care about whether my façade was cracking or not. The other inmates were already moving, and I got up quickly to join them; however, I didn't get far before my own personal head of annoyance once again stood in my way; «What now?» I said through clenched teeth, although my anger disappeared as fast as it rose in the first place;  I knew it was no use getting into a fit anyway, it would just make things harder for myself. «Maximum transfer, it's just policy.» I raised a brow and narrowed my eyes as he gave me a half-hearted smile and chained not only my wrists, but even my ankles to each other. He stood up and after a quick pat on the shoulder he nodded at me; «Now we're good to go.»
The noise as we made our way down the hallway was overwhelming and I felt all the eyes following me as we made our way down the brightly lit corridor; as the only transfer from a maximum security facility I was walked down the hallway in chains, only accompanied by the now two guards towering over me on each side. I kept my eyes locked at the door in front of me as we got closer, my head  held high and my face kept blank of any expression. I felt as if my orange jumpsuit was glowing in the dark, and I quickly got the impression that a transfer to a lower level security prison was far from an everyday thing. If I should feel this lucky- I wasn't sure. But what could possibly be worse than what I had endured these past months. Except Jigsaws twisted games of course…

I shook the terrible thought out of my head, as I had got real good at through the time I had spent on my own, with only my own mind to wrap my head around. Forgetting and denying had become a favourite pastime for me lately. The guards chased away a few inmates that had gotten a little too close and opened the blinded door in front of us: the door was closed behind me and I was placed in a small chair facing the huge owl on the other side of the desk. I glanced quickly at his golden nameplate in front of me as he took of his glasses. He cleared his throat as he sat up and turned to face me; «The name is Duck, I assume?» his voice was deep and held an underlying tone of implicit authority. I merely gave him a small grin; «I guess you have heard of me.» my voice was surprisingly calm  and confident even in my own ears; I made an excellent job at hiding all the fear and worries once again tearing at my insides by this sudden seriousness. It was the first time someone had addressed me with my name in quite some time and it sounded strange, as the sound of it seemed to linger in the air after the words had died away. I had to bite my tongue not to repeat it for myself and looked away as he shuffled some papers on his desk; «Lets see… Huebert Duck… sentenced with 20 years yet to serve… alright, it seems as if ward F is where you will be staying for now.»  He gave me a professional smile and I wondered what kind of thoughts might be travelling through his mind right now; "Mr. Owlet", as the nameplate had read. I returned the smile and patiently awaited permission to leave as my heart raced at the speed of light. «You will now be sent to collect your uniform as well as undergo a rather thorough check before you are shown to your cell.» Mr. Owlet put the glasses back on his small beak and searched his papers before he handed one of the guards some of them; «That is your paperwork boy; be sure to take care of it as they will be needed at more than one occasion during your stay.» He gave me what I took as a sincere smile when I didn't respond immediately; «You will get out of those chains as quick as you are inside our system; it's just a formality to keep them on for now.» I gave him an incredulous stare; «You sure that is such a good idea?» I felt the need to hit myself in the head by the stupidity I displayed when I said that, but the anger had gotten the better of me again; the fact that everyone kept ignoring how I hated these cuffs with a passion had been a thorn in my side since I was first locked up. Still, the huge owl only gave me another smile before he said something I would remember the rest of my stay; « I'm sure it will work out for you, kid.» I thought I sensed some kind of compassion in that voice, and our eyes locked with each other for a moment; «Now get out of my office!» he said in a much sterner voice, before turning back to the papers on his desk. The guards took one arm each and got me back on my feet before they opened the door again; I turned to give the officer a last sinister smile before it was shut behind us; «Thank you, Mr. Owlet.»

The procedure was very much like what I had experienced the first time around, humiliating and harsh. But this time around I cared less and almost took joy in the fact that I could talk with people and actually do something physical for a change. Not to mention the wonderful absence of handcuffs that almost made me cry just from joy. I noticed it was about a dozen inmates being searched along with myself, and I wondered which ones would go to the same ward as me. I didn't get much time to reflect upon it, though, and I was suddenly handed orange shorts and a matching shirt along with a couple of shoes in a soft, grey fabric; «Put these on and get back in line.»
I did as I was told, enjoying the strange feeling of having my hands free to actually do something useful. We all got in line and I stood waiting for further instructions.

The thick hen I had just mistaken for being a short man came over to me and suddenly took a hold of my left hand after staring me down for a few seconds; I tried not to flinch as she ran her fingers over my bloody bandages, which I was about to point out hadn't been changed since yesterday. She looked up to meet my eyes, and let go of my arm; «a nurse will come around later.» she said, her voice professional as ever. I merely nodded, not sure how to respond to that statement. I felt the eyes of a few other new-hatches burning on my skin, but I didn't return their stares. To be honest it made me a little nervous that I had such an obvious weakness. I didn't have time to think about that either though, since the very next moment we were told to get moving and formed  a straight line with an officer at each end.
Walking through the corridors, it wasn't a single inmate not staring at us as we made our way to the  F ward; obviously all of us were sent there. I noticed how everyone we passed were some kind of bird, despite the many types represented; it was obviously a bird-only facility. I felt a small smile once again form on my face as I took in the bright light and constant noise surrounding us. The fact that the inmates were seemingly moving around as they pleased surprised me; it was almost surreal to finally be out of isolation.
It was soon clear that we had reached our ward since the corridors were all cleared of people and only the occasional door was open. We made several stops by different cell-doors and the line got shorter for every time the guard in front locked them in their new cells. Finally my name was called and I made my way over to the door at a slow pace. Truth was that I was scared to know whom I would spend the next years with sharing bunk beds. As quickly as I was inside the small room, the door slammed shut behind me and I was on my own.
Two bunks were placed in the narrow ends of the room and it was surprisingly well lit, with  a small window behind a mesh along with the yellow light from the lamp in the ceiling.
A metallic toilet and sink was placed beside me by the door and a few lockers were stacked with books and other personal items obviously belonging to the other inmates residing here. Speaking of which, I only found one person in the room although it obviously was shared by more.

I cleared my throat as I turned to the other man in the room, still sitting on his bed with a book in his hands; « Hi there.» it sounded far too loud in my own ears, as if my voice echoed between the walls. I swallowed hard at the sound but kept my casual smile all the while. My new cellmate turned to me and stood up from the bed at the sound of my voice; now I got to see his whole frame, partly hidden as it had been by the bunk. I had to admit that his height and bulky figure was impressive; the eagle in front of me was at least twice my height and his shoulders had to rival even the Claws in width. A couple of golden eyes were giving me a hard stare under his furrowed brow and the white head plumage were cut and styled in some kind of short mohawk. His muscular arms were covered in tattoos, and the tribal pattern continued up under his white singlet, which didn't leave much to your own imagination; his six-pack were practically ripping the stretched fabric apart. A broad smile suddenly spread across his beak as we stared each other down; « Kingston is the name.» he said in a surprisingly cheerful voice as he crossed his arms in a smug stance; « Earl Kingston.»  If it wasn't for his voice I would have guessed him to be way older than me; and somehow it was reassuring to know I was facing someone with generally the same amount of life-experience. A little more confident I returned the smile and moved closer with my hand outstretched in an inviting manner; «Duck. Huey Duck.»