MICHAEL CONDUCTED THE FOLLOWING Sunday Mass, in the prison yard to a grandiose record of over seven hundred Intersexuals followers of both Whites and the Blacks, who were behind their respective fences. The Christians inmates were kneeling on the sand and bowing — while Michael blessed the Holy Communion Eucharist bread by raising it up...

Doran with a bandaged head was also kneeling inside his cage — he followed the mass service — that was across the other end of the yard. He was in ambivalence as he prayed in dolorous, of the imminent deaths that were coming tomorrow...

His mind kept foreseeing his sixteen surviving sanctified monk-brothers genuflected on the sand — while Agent Wolfe pulled the trigger at the back of their heads — one-by-one — Doran saw them giving up the ghost until the last one — Michael — falling quietus, motionless on the sand with his eyes open, thick blood was worming from his head to his face...

"This is the cup of my blood."

Michael raised a wooden cup and recited the Holy Communion libretto...

"... the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It was shed for you and for all men so that your sins may be forgiven. Do this in memory of me."

Doran bowed his head while he wiped his hot tears...

Michael was serving the Holy Communion to the Whites — while Peter fed the bit of bread into the mouths of the Blacks Christians through the holes of the fence, uttering...

"The body of Jesus Christ."

"Amen," responded the Black believer, after receiving the consecrated sacrament.

Doran spotted Guard Gina standing nearby and reading a home-improvement magazine under the urinal shed — he called out to her...

"Guard, please, I need to receive my Holy Communion. Call one of the monks to give it to me."

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"No Preacher, sorry — nobody comes near your cage, that's the warden's order."

He responded back in importunity. "Please, it has been some time since I receive the Sacrament, I beg of you please, I need it today!" he pleaded...

"No can do, Preacher — orders are fucking orders!"

"I need it, please! Get the Warden. I need to speak to the Warden now!"

His demands provoked the hack — she approached the barred cage. "Will you shut up or I will put you in the dark hole again!" The disarray guard stipulated him like a child with a boogie-man-was-there scare.

Doran's voice grew up persistently...

"No! You cannot do this to me — I need to see the Warden right now!"

Guard Gina screeched back in panic. "Shut up, Preacher!"

Hitting her baton on the cage's iron bar like she usually did to overawe him — but, he ignored her intimidation — and he hollered out to the other end of the yard — he called out Michael's name loudly, while Guard Gina started jabbing him with the baton through the bars.

Michael and the monks left the liturgy aside when they heard him, and ran over towards Doran's cage — they were followed by the hundreds of White adherents trailing behind towards the gashouse. The panicking guards started firing warning shots in the air — and then, the towers sounded the siren...

Warden Graves glanced at the disturbance from out of the office window — and was shocked on seeing the water-cannon fired at the oncoming White Intersexuals. The vigour water jet thudded the inmates down into the muddy yard, with chaotic screams everywhere.

Hajja was behind his fence, he saw the multitude of Whites prisoners falling on the ground, thumped by the discharge jet force. The spectacle also caused the rival Latinos to cheer wildly from their side of the fence...

Doran was crying in his cage — while at the BGF fence, the laughing Li Chi approached to the Black leader, who looked implausibly at the heartless sight.

The Chinese carped out...

"Look at him, Hajja — is this 'The Man' whom you think who will spearhead your people to an uprising? Just admit it that, he is no more the Preacher who we all once knew — now look there, he is just a broken animal in the warden's cage."

They both looked at the hapless Doran weeping uncontrollably on his knees while watching the brutality outside his barred enclosure — that followed with, the driving havoc of dozens of angry prison guards fustigating the White followers with their rotang canes — to distance the supporters away from the Preacher's cage.

Doran cried out to the Aryan guards. "Please don't hurt them — no, please, don't!"