KIKI-BOY AND HANK AMBLED in the crowded prison yard, they were looking around at the hundreds of White Intersexuals everywhere, Kiki-boy then spoke...

"Where the heck is that fat J-Cat? I wanna get wasted on his 'KOP' when I drink my hooch later. Hey, there is Troy over there, let's ask him."

They both walk up to the bleacher where Troy Norton and True Bob were arm-wrestling.

Reeves watched the meddlesome duo coming over to his corner.

"Hey, guys, sorry to bother the 'party-line,' — has anyone of you here seen Big Joe anywhere?"

Reeves knew where Joe took his habitué naps after his 'short-line' at the cafeteria — but he kept quiet and ignored their presence.

"No," was Troy's gritting response before True Bob overwhelmed him by finally slamming his wrist down hard. The debacle Troy yelped out in pain. "You fucking Indian — you nearly took my arm apart!" The half Cherokee laughed in victory...

"That is 5 bucks you now owe me."

He then made a mental calculation and added...

"...hmm, 130 bucks, Troy — you fuckin' owe me that in total!"

"How is he gonna pay you back, Chief?"

Kiki debunked and the half-Cherokee riposted in high spirits...

"He owes me alright and someday, when we get outta here — Troy here is gonna pay me every dime."

True Bob looked at the bigger Hank and then challenged him...

"Hey, you wanna arm-wrestle? Come on, Big Guy, take me on!"

"No thanks yo, I don't do ass-betting," Hank declined, but Kiki-boy had a better idea...

"Let's play for real bets — what have you got, Chief?"

Hank 'jammed up' and appended back with his needs eagerly...

"Hey True Bob, I see you are good ink-slinger and you have inked some guys here, and I'm a big fan of your artwork. So if I beat you now, you give me a full-sleeved tattoo on both my arms — buzz me tats with the word 'Wesleyan' there and the other, with 'Tombscradle' over here," pointing at both of his clean arms.

"Why ya want a shitty prison word like that, inked on you for the rest of your life — isn't that like a shitty curse, man?" Troy expressed.

Hank did not believe in the perception of curses, he beleaguered back at True Bob.

"Fuck that, I really want it — so how about it Bobby Two Balls, do we get a deal here?"

True Bob thought a while before he implied back. "That's a lot of work — but anyway, what if I beat you, bitch? What have you got to offer me back?"

Kiki looked over his shoulder and placed his hand inside his orange jacket — and pulled out a newspaper...

"A rare item like this." He divulged it, laughing...

"A newspaper? Where did you get that?" Troy probed — and Kiki responded back...

"We found it. One of the hacks might have dropped it, check the date, man — it is today's!"

True Bob acknowledged sternly...

"You fools! It is against prison regulation that we possess any writing or reading materials in here. If Capt. Olsen finds out, you will end up in the hole! I don't want that shit...

"The deal is off!"

Kiki-boy ridiculed him...

"Come on, cut the chicken shit — it is a good trade, Chiefo, I will sweeten it further — we will also throw in some daily supply of freshly brewed 'Raisin' Jack' until you fully-sleeved Hankster here, so how about it?"

Troy was coaxed by the dearth find. "Hey Kiki-boy, let me have a quick read."

"Sorry, no free reading, yo — trade me something for it —what you got Troy?"

Kiki cajoled him until Reeves the silent listener, who was not big in small talks, stepped in...

"No Troy, it is not worth the trouble you will be next getting into." Reeves turned at Hank and Kiki-boy sternly told them off...

"Take that shit away and beat it, you two!"

Reeves was protective of his circle — he knew the guile characters of Kiki and Hank who were not the best of people he had connected with back during their Wesleyan days — they were a 'greasy' duo then and even now. They may 'cop-out' names to the guards about the newspapers if they were caught — and for the worst, they might rat Troy and True Bob in the third-degree interrogation, as their insidious source of who found the newspaper.

He had known the duo's cunning deceits for years in Wesleyan and they usually got away with it by framing others — now, he was angry with Joe — who used to despise them before while in school, but was now moving in their group, playing White gangsters in the big-yard.

The overweening Hank who badly wanted the tattoos disregarded Reeves, and he kept eyeballing True Bob...

"Come on Bob, why are you acting so scared?"

The half-Cherokee stood up and sounded back...

"Hey look, I am not fucking scared — but Reeves here is right, it is not worth it — the bottom-line is that since Day 1, the Warden made her rules clear in here that, the more we know of what shit is happening outside these prison walls, there is a chance we will be more rebellious in here. That was the reason why we are kept all in line and in the dark — when we have not been given things like the newspapers to read nor allowed to watch the news on TV for the last 5 fucking years!"

Kiki-boy laughed and showed him the finger...

"It is your loss, Chief Loser Bob — but I am taking the risk, and I will hang on to it coz I can still trade it elsewhere — if you guys don't want it, it is fine — shit like this could 'hit a lick' across the fences."

The fulsome Kiki turned acrimoniously towards the rebel Reeves — who was considered as in the weak-corner, with a zero gang affiliation within the walls — Kiki chided at him in derision for spoiling their deal...

"Hey, guess what yo? It has got a story about your butch 'uncle' in the headlines, man!"

Reeves intent to stare locked on his. "What crap are you talking about?"

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Kiki spreading the newspaper in affectation on the bleacher surface-top pointed the front page and he aggrandized...

"Remember your butch uncle — Roberta Jensen! The super pit-bull cop who is now back making headlines again — in our good ol' state of Ohio — by busting the street gangs over there — so, don't you wanna read about her, Eve?"

"Wow Reeves, are you related to this Jensen hero-cop?" Troy found it enthralling to know more of the debunked Kiki's comment.

"No, who the fuck said so I am related!!?"

Reeves was agape a beat by his own friend's inquiry. The chuckling Kiki-boy told them straight up...

"It is no secret any more yo — Joe told me and Hankster here, that you found that 'grape' out from Tina Martin in the Wesleyan. Damn, you are lucky, man! Most of us don't get know our records, or even our last names when living in that fucking university for years...

"... and, here you are, with your proud sweet moniker — Mr Reeves Jensen!"

Kiki-boy said out, with a hint of jealousy.

"That is not my name. you fuckin'fool! Stop spreading your fucking rumours about me, you morons!" Reeves shouted and shoved Kiki aside.

He was getting even angrier now — how could that adipose-headed Joe get this stupid and tell on him, to his gang of moron buddies behind his back? This betrayal 'crossed out' the trust, which they both once shared before...

Reeves paced away from the bleachers with inquisitive eyeballs behind his back that tied him to the name Roberta Jensen — bewildered — what if that butch cop was actually related to his mother, he thought about that at the moment too.

"What the fuck is he so pissed off about it?" Kiki said, looking at Reeves 'catch out' from the area. True Bob next raised his voice mockingly, he pointed at the newspaper...

"Hey Monkey-boy, take that toilet-paper of yours and hit it — and don't forget to update your Facebook status if this newspaper lands you up in the hole — with you comment updates with your own shit on the wall, you asshole! Well, I will be the first one, to poke you too!"

The Wesleyan youth chuckled with discomfiture...

"Fuck you Cochise, and also my name is no longer Kiki — I am known as Kirk among the Wesleyans inside the Tombscradle walls! Hey, you stop acting like a 'hard-rock' too, Chiefo — because Hankster over here, can 'flat-weed' you anytime-anywhere!"

"Really Hank? You better 'catch a square' when I get over there" Two Bob made a 'call-out' and challenged him now...

Hank may be bigger inbuilt but the lanky half-Cherokee was 'yolked' and looked like the average 'jockers' in prison — Hank was hesitant, seeing there was also a guard nearby at the 'catwalk' watching over the sally-port; he did not want to receive a written ticket.

"Come on now, Hankie-Pankie — show me your 'Kamikaze-moves..."

"Fuck you!" replied the also humiliated Hank; who was had the joint-leadership in the Wesleyans White-gang that they had formed a few years ago.

"Then, stop with the 'cell-gangster wolf-talks,' you bitch — now 'dip the spot' — and, take your 'monkey-mouth' gashley with you too!"

Kiki-boy was pissed as he folded the newspaper, and he hid it back in his orange peel — both the Wesleyans left the bleacher area — Kiki continued his pan conversation with Hank, while they walked on the yard ground, filled with puddles of muddy rainwater...

"That Reeves is a total 'dirty-dog' with a motherfucking 'attitude.' I never really liked him even back during school days! Damn, there are lots of stuff that cunt Tina Martin had held back on us which we don't know of because she had control of our C-files back then — I would be fucking proud if that bitch told me my last name for real, instead of to that 'lame' Reeves — why him of all the Wesleyans? What 'dagging' did he give that bitch Martin, was it a good head just to know his fucking name?"

These were the kind of second-rated gossips that the Wesleyans spent 'capping' about all day — they are not 'bought' in the major rumours that were going around of the Preacher would start an uprising in Tombscradle — but they were deeply sure that, the loner Reeves would someday jump the prison wall like he had done once before in school. All of his ex-schoolmates had even placed their bets and were waiting for that day to happen — when Reeves, would either be recaptured or took a 'dirt-nap' in that attempt in the desert.

The apathetic Hank laughed out, recalling his last days in Wesleyan...

"What's the use of having a last name in here, Boy — this is fucking prison — it is not the job market that we were led to believe before — just like how we used to idolize that super-cop Jensen when we were in school, until that Tina Martin cunt fooled us with the police academy field trip that we last took — and we then sold-out and fucking ended up here in the big-house."

They droll passed A-Block — where there were about a dozen Chinese Intersexuals gathered, behind their side of the fence...

"Damn well, I always wanted to be a cop like that Jensen too — busting' the badass street-gang members The fact remains is that, I would be proud if I were in Reeves' shoes — who knows in a long shot, Reeves may be actually related to that super-cop Roberta Jensen, am I right Hankster?

"And so what we have here now, is a case of a fucker like Reeves, who does not appreciate that honour of knowing the truth about himself!"

They both laughed out. "It ain't right yo — what a goof-shit, he is!"

One of the Chinese triad members, Wu Leong eavesdropped Kiki's hearsay — and he went over to the Asian gang leader Li Chi nearby and alluded whispers into his ears. The leader immediately cursed out in Cantonese...

"Roberta Jensen?"

The corrupted double-dealing Strike-force Sergeant Jensen had made a career by putting away many Asian gang-bangers — either in the coroner's body-bags or 'rolled-up' in prisons cells — the surviving triad in captivity at Tombscradle was part of a gang-bust arrest in Chinatown for arms-dealing in Columbus, Ohio five years ago.

*

The siren echoed — it was 'yard-in' time for the headcount — before the White inmates were returned to their respective cells. Hank, Kiki and their gang were joking loudly as they gathered.

"Hey man, I got to take a piss," Big Joe told the guys — and Hank cautioned him...

"Make it back fast or else Bull-Anderson will tear your blubber-ass up, along with your Little Joey-dick, if you are not back here when she calls your-count."

The rest of the Wesleyan boys laughed, seeing the maladroit Joe scuttled urgently on the muddy ground towards the public urinal shed. From afar, Bullhead Sergeant Anderson came out from the IMU building to the yard with an armed guard.

Joe arrived at the gashouse and glanced at Doran's empty cage — he had earlier heard from the boys saying that the Preacher was thrown for a day in the hole — for 'catching a beef' and behaving in a violent manner in front of a visitor from Washington.

Joe started to relief himself alone at the public urinal while the herd bull's voice on the loud-haler was heard behind his back. Joe zipped up his fly and turned around — to feel a punch landing hard on his face. He fell on his back, sloshed in the muddy ground...

Out of sight from the assembly of the White inmates — Reeves stepped up — and kicked him repeatedly on his face — while he grunted to lower his angry voice, hissing out at Joe...

"You lame, fat-fuck! You simply can't keep your mouth shut, you fool!

"You've been fucking 'head-running' with that asshole Kiki by saying that I am a Jensen — and he is gonna blabber his monkey-mouth around. How stupid are you, Joe? This is a damn prison, and I can get fucking killed if they think I am associated with that Jensen cop!"

Joe half-yelled for help — Reeves placed a foot on Joe's throat — to silence his 'bitching-up.' The dark-haired rebel continued saying...

"Have you thought in your fathead, that your stupidity is gonna get me shanked within these walls by some lowlife gangbanger, who wants revenge on that cop?"

Guard Preslie Baker was looking at the beating incident with her binoculars from the opposite watchtower — the ex-Olympian sniper smiled wide to herself — spotting a pint-sized guy 'hoe-checking' the hell out of Big Joe.

Reeves seethed while thinking of what Doran in the cage, made him realize lately — it was a 'hit in the neck' with no chances of survival in his lone escape attempt into the open desert...

Now, with the current rumour exacerbated by the Wesleyans, it would get himself dead even sooner than expected inside the prison walls. Maybe this left him with no other choices, but to jump the wall more readily — and die in peace out there while on the run in the desert.

"You don't simply seem to know — what to say and what not to — these days, hah, Joe? So what are you now to them Wesleyans here? Are you some 'Big-bitch' here who is 'up in the mix? So being in prison right now is your new 'luv-luv' life, hah Joe? 'Kicking-it' all day with your Wesleyan homies — pretending to be a 'gang-jacket' and playing 'G.I. Approved' Bilillos-gangster, hah!!?

"So are you think that you are a tough guy, yeah right Joe? Fuck that you bitch, coz you are just a fat incompetent fucking joke to those Wesleyan rumkins back there — and damn, you even fucking never lost weight, since you got here — you're just the same like how you were, back in that fucking University as an institutionalized cow!"

Reeves rambled on, and kept on kicking his ribs and upbraided, during his first heart-to-heart communication with Joe after five years — since their fall-out in Tombscradle...

"I think you are enjoying your routine here too, Joe — you fucking your 'Fifi' every morning — and the 'doo-wop' that you do in the chow-hall when they serve shitty deep-fried 'erasers...'

"Yeah, I still do remember it back then in school, you fat fuck — tartar sauce for your fish! Ketchup for your fries, ain't that now right, 'crimey'?"

Reeves then turned away — and left Joe sprawling in debacle on the sloppy muddy ground — pawing his bloodied face in pain. The rebel then blended back, into the unsuspecting assembled White crowd like a shadow, for the evening headcount.