"New guy, eh?" Kenjo, Jamie’s cellmate, glared menacingly at him.

Jamie lay still, not responding.

"HEY! NEW GUY! RESPOND WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU, BITCH!" Kenjo shouted, growing angrier by the second.

Jamie didn’t move a muscle, remaining silent, which only fueled Kenjo’s rage. Clenching his fist, Kenjo swung at Jamie’s back with full force, but his punch froze mid-air. Shocked, Kenjo looked down to see Jamie had caught his hand, his expression filled with irritation.

Jamie’s grip tightened around Kenjo’s hand, and the pressure felt like it was about to crush his bones. The pain shot through Kenjo’s arm, and he began crying, begging for mercy.

Eventually, Jamie let go. Kenjo's hand dropped, swollen and a litte twisted in an unnatural way. He sobbed in pain.

"Tsk. Can you shut up, wannabe gangster? I’m trying to sleep. Don’t make me destroy your other hand, too," Jamie said coldly, turning away.

Kenjo sat frozen, too scared to move. The tears kept flowing, and after an hour, he finally passed out.

The next morning, Jamie woke up early. He glanced around the cell to see Kenjo still sleeping, his arm swollen and twisted. "Looks like I really messed him up. Must hurt like hell," Jamie thought with a smirk.

Jamie inspected their small, dingy cell: two bunk beds, a small toilet, a rusty sink, and trays of old, uneaten food. The walls were marked with bloodstains and peeling paint.

"This hotel sucks," Jamie muttered to himself.

Kenjo stirred awake and saw Jamie looking at him. Fear washed over his face, and he quickly tried to hide under his blanket.

"Yo. What’s your name?" Jamie asked, his tone neutral.

Kenjo stayed silent, hoping Jamie would leave him alone.

"I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE! JUST GIVE ME YOUR NAME!" Jamie shouted, frustration boiling in his voice.

Kenjo, terrified, peeked out from under the blanket and stammered, "I-I’m K-Kenjo, s-sir."

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Kenjo, huh? I’m Jamie. Figured we should exchange names since we’re gonna be stuck here together for a while."

Kenjo nodded, too scared to speak further.

Jamie sighed. "Let me see your arm."

Kenjo hesitated, thinking Jamie was going to hurt him again. "S-sure, s-sir," he stuttered, holding out his injured arm.

Jamie grabbed Kenjo’s arm and inspected it. "Eh, this should be easy to fix," Jamie muttered before gripping it tightly. With a quick motion, he twisted it back into place.

SNAP!

Kenjo screamed in agony as his arm snapped back.

"Shut up. The pain’ll be gone soon," Jamie said bluntly.

Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life. "ALL PRISONERS TO THE CAFETERIA!" a guard announced.

Jamie and Kenjo joined the mass of prisoners heading toward the cafeteria. They arrived to find trays of mushy, unappetizing potatoes slopped onto plates. Jamie stared at the tray in disgust, forcing down two spoonfuls before tossing the rest into the trash.

Kenjo leaned in and whispered, "I know where you can get some better food. Follow me."

They snuck out toward the second cell block but were stopped by a guard. The guard scowled at them. "Where do you think you’re going? Cafeteria’s that way."

Jamie clenched his fists, ready to snap, but Kenjo jumped in. "W-we’re going to see the prison therapist, sir."

The guard eyed them suspiciously, then nodded. "Alright, but don’t be too long. Yard time starts soon."

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Kenjo led Jamie to a vending machine tucked away in the block.

"You got money or what?" Jamie asked.

"No, but watch this," Kenjo said with a smirk before ramming the machine with his shoulder, causing a bunch of snacks to fall to the bottom.

Chips, chocolate, and wraps spilled out, and they grabbed their food before heading to the yard.

Back at the yard, they were approached by a group of prisoners. One of the bigger guys, Shika, led the way.

"You the new guy?" Shika sneered. "Word is you’ve been stealing snacks."

Jamie scoffed. "I don’t owe you or anyone else anything."

Shika’s gang looked pissed. One of the larger members stepped up, towering over Kenjo.

"Kenjo, what the hell are you doing with this guy?" he growled.

Kenjo trembled. "Shika, don’t fight him! Jamie’s strong!"

Jamie grinned. "HELL YEAH, I AM!" he shouted.

Shika smirked, signaling for his gang to handle Jamie. Ten of them rushed toward him.

Jamie cracked his knuckles, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Don’t overestimate yourselves, guys."

Before Kenjo could stop him, Jamie launched into action. Jabs and crosses flew with incredible speed. "ONE, TWO!" he shouted as he remembered Dekam’s training.

"JAB! JAB! JAB! CROSS! CROSS! CROSS!" Jamie moved with precision, landing blows on each of the gang members. They fell one after the other, unable to keep up with his speed or strength.

The last remaining thug, desperate, charged at Jamie. He threw a heavy punch, but Jamie dodged effortlessly and countered with a sharp jab that connected with his nose.

CRACK! The thug’s nose broke instantly, blood pouring down his face as he crumpled to the ground.

Shika watched from afar, muttering to himself, "Useless fuckers."

Before Jamie could relish in his victory, police swarmed the yard, dragging him away toward solitary confinement.

The yard time ended early, and the prisoners were served dinner. The 10 prisoners who got KO'd were moved to intensive care under the prison hospital. Kenjo sneaked out during dinner, carefully avoiding the guards, making his way down to a small window connected to Jamie’s solitary cell.

Jamie sat alone, staring at the walls when suddenly, Kenjo's head popped up through the small window.

Jamie turned toward him, annoyed. "What do you want, Kenjo?"

Kenjo looked at Jamie and whispered, "You wanna know who that Shika guy is?"

Jamie sighed. "Couldn't care less, but since I’m stuck here, might as well tell me."

Kenjo leaned in closer, his voice a little shaky. "Well, from what I’ve heard, he’s an old boxing champ, middleweight. Got suspended for… killing people in matches on purpose. His most famous match? The national title bout. Supposedly, he took the padding out of his gloves and hit with full force. Knocked his opponent out cold in the third round, and that guy… never woke up. Dead. His final punch is called the 'Death Scythe.' Three people died from it—two in the ring and one right here in this prison."

Kenjo paused, eyes wide as he continued. "A guy just like you once challenged Shika. Five minutes later, he was dead, his face smashed in. Jamie, you’ve gotta be careful—"

Jamie cut him off. "Shut up. Deadly boxer, Death Scythe, whatever. I don’t care about any of that. I’ll beat him, no matter what. I'll put an end to that stupid child’s play."

Kenjo looked at Jamie, trembling. "You... you're insane..."