"Ah f#ck! Be careful with my arm! It's hurt as hell!"
"Can you stop crying for a minute?!"
The young man's groans echoed through the yard. Beside him was Frode, the old man sat next to him while checking Isaak's arm up and down, carefully moving his wrist to rest it on the bleacher.
Surrounding them were the Wild Panthers, black men looking at the two with both curiosity and awe. Nobody said a word and just let the old man help Isaak.
Viktor, on the other side, tried to move toward Isaak but got stopped mid-step by Frode, who reached out a hand to block his way.
"I suggest you step back, or do you still want to continue even when he is in this state?" Frode said while carefully supporting Isaak's arm.
"Oh no no, I wasn't trying to do anything. I just want to check if he's alright." Viktor quickly explained himself, resolving the misunderstanding.
Frode glanced at him briefly before focusing back on Isaak. He grabbed a small piece of his cloth, ripped it, and wrapped it around his wrist. His voice calm and steady.
"Lucky for you, your arm didn't broken or suffer any severe injuries."
"My bad, old man… My bad…"
"Dumbass. Next time, before doing anything, you should tell me a word!"
Isaak nodded in silence as he lay down on the bleacher, resisting the urge to groan all over again because of how aching his arm was right now.
After making sure that Isaak's injury was treated, Frode turned back to Viktor and faced him directly. Despite the height difference, the old man showed no fear as he spoke to Viktor in a serious voice.
"You're lucky that he is alright, if he suffered from a worse injury. You would be in big trouble."
Viktor sighed a little, unable to believe his eyes that there was an old man right in front of him, threatening him. He could feel himself being disrespected a bit, so he stood out and tried to intimidate the old man.
"What trouble are we talking about here? You know you can't do anything to me, right? I am Viktor 'The Bear' Ivanov; I could crush you whenever I wanted to."
"It's not about you crushing me or anyone, big muscles."
Frode pointed at the gate behind Viktor. As Viktor turned his back, he saw two guards come out and start hurrying toward them, batons on their arms.
"It's about you causing chaos just like a ripper guy did before." The old man said calmly, his face showing both sarcasm and waryness. "But unlike before, this time, there has been some damage."
Viktor's face frowned as the two guards approached him. He'd almost forgotten there were guards on the watchtowers watching them, and Isaak's scream, though not overly loud at all, was still loud enough for the guards above to hear them.
Looking at their attitude, he knew he couldn't just ignore them or divert the conversation. Especially with Isaak, the infamous murderer, lying on the bleacher with his right arm limp like a noodle.
"Alright." One of them began.
"We heard there was a scream down there. What the hell just happened here?"
Although the guards likely already knew what happened, they still acted clueless. Viktor knew this trick; no, everyone here except Isaak knew this trick.
It often was either the guards wanted to ignore it and pretend it was self-inflicted because they were too lazy to report back unnecessary incidents, or they wanted to avoid getting their bones crushed by Viktor like the last guy. After all, nobody wanted to mess with the Big Shot.
However, that only applied when a nobody got injured. But here was Isaak, the Sinner, a totally different case. They needed him alive, so of course, they couldn't close their eyes on this and let it slide like usual.
And one more thing is that even though the guards knew what happened, they still had no proof. The prison couldn't afford surveillance cameras, so they needed some proper evidences to report back.
Viktor tried to brush it off with an intimidating smirk.
"You see, we were just having some fun here, no more, no less."
"Having some fun? Then explain why him over there is lying on the bleacher with his hand hanging like that." The guard move his gaze from Viktor to Isaak behind him.
"What's the big deal? It was just a small accident! You know, some accidents happen sometimes right?"
"What type of small accident is that?" The guard's voice remained serious in front of Viktor's pressing demeanor. "A broken arm is hardly a scratch."
"Well—"
Before Viktor could continue, one of the guards walked past him and stepped forward to Isaak. He pointed his baton straight at Isaak's face, and his voice changed from normal to one of disdain and mockery as he spoke to the Sinner.
"Oi. You there. If you're not mute, start talking. What the hell happened here?"
Isaak lifted his head a bit when he saw the guard. He glanced at the guard and then at his arm, wondering if it was broken or not.
Seeing that Isaak remained silent, the guard grew annoyed and began to shout.
"Hey! You scumbag! Answer me, what the f#ck happened to you and your arm, huh? Did that big guy over there break your arm or what? Speak up!"
"…"
"Agh, you're such a damn pain."
After seeing that Isaak wouldn't say anything, the guard let out a few curses and then decided to turn his focus onto the members of the Wild Panthers, hoping to gain some information from them instead.
"Tsk. What about you, huh? Speak up, what happened here, won't you?"
The person in question is a black man from the gang who had also been the guy who tried to mess with Isaak earlier, jumped down from the bleacher. His face was smug as he gave the guard a wide smirk, his voice jokingly.
"Aye man. Can't you tell just by looking at us that we saw crap? We didn't see anything, our eyes were focused on the glorious muscular woman over there, ya know?"
He pointed at a corner where the women of the Bloody Nightshade were talking, which annoyed the guard even more.
Another black man, also the referee from earlier, walked down from the bleacher. Unlike the others, he had a recognizable bald head and glasses. His voice was also lots calmer than the others.
"Benji, let's not provoke these guards; it might bring us and the gang trouble, you know?"
Benji looked at his friend, his voice now boring.
"Oh come on, Sam, what are they going to do, anyway? They can't do anything if they don't have the proof. Besides that, we are clean. No need to be worried!"
"Here we go again with the 'clean' part. You know we're in prison and we need to behave, right?"
"Well duh, 'behave' isn't a word in my dictionary!"
The bald black man named Sam sighed in defeat as he turned back to the guard, trying to explain.
"Sorry, officer. But we didn't really see anything happen. The guy just slipped and hit the bleacher."
"I know you're lying; your words aren't getting past me. All of you!"
The guard felt his annoyance reaching its maximum as he shouted at the prisoners on the bleacher, his baton pointed at their faces.
"I know you saw all of it. Why don't you tell me and everything will go back to normal, huh?"
In response, the gang members only looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Some were laughing it off while others answered him jokingly.
"See what? We saw nothing."
"My eyes are blind, officer! I can't see anything."
"You're just imagining things, officer. We've been sitting here all along and we didn't see a thing."
Clearly, none of them was taking this seriously.
As the guard scratching his head in annoyance, didn't know what to do next. Then suddenly, on the bleacher, Isaak let out a groan and slowly sat up, his left hand carefully holding his right arm.
My hand isn't broken. He thoughts. But it's definitely not going to be in good shape for a while either.
He looked at the guard, cleared his dried throat, then began to speak again, drawing the attention of everyone around on him.
"…I'm good now. What did you just say again?" His voice calm and steady.
The guard shifted his gaze from the gang members to Isaak, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. He pointed his baton at Isaak's face, stopping just inches away from his face.
"You'd better answer me honestly or you'll regret it. Staying silent won't help you now."
"Answer what?"
The guard's voice grew louder and more aggressive. "You know what! What happened here, huh? What's with your arm and all this chaos?"
Isaak's heart dropped a bit as he heard the question. He could felt the weight of everyone's eyes on him, awaiting him to answer.
What had happened?
How am I even supposed to answer this?
He had two options: He could either tell the truth and explain everything that had happened, or he could lie. However, no matter which choice he made, there was a risk of making things worse, though he didn't know how it will occured.
The guards leaned in closer, their expressions both impatience and annoyance. The Wild Panthers, who had been laughing moments before, suddenly fell silent. Even Viktor turned to look at him, his curiosity piqued. He could feel the pressure, the weight of everyone's eyes fixed on him.
Isaak swallowed hard, unsure how to answer without getting into more trouble.
Then suddenly, Isaak felt a sharp poke in his ribs, which made him jolt slightly.
"Eck—"
When he shifted his gaze to the person who had poked him, he saw Frode sitting beside him. The old man wasn't stressed, he was so calm that it surprised Isaak.
Isaak's brow furrowed when he noticed Frode secretly showing him two fingers under the bleacher, an clear signal for 'two'.
Two? Isaak questioned himself, confusion flooding him for a brief moment before he remembered something.
Two fingers meant two, and two meant the second rule of the playground:
No snitching.
He turned his attention back to the guard, adjusted his voice a bit, and answered slowly, his voice steadier than before.
"I slipped." Isaak said, forcing confidence into the words as he met the guard's glare head-on. "It was all an accident."
Then, everything turned silent. Nobody said a word. The only noise was the sound of the nearby inmates dragging their ragged bodies around. Just sheer silence.
It took the guards a few seconds to regain their composure and speak again.
"What…?"
Isaak thought the guard hadn't heard him properly, so he repeated himself.
"I said I just slipped—"
"I heard what you said!"
The guard held his forehead and let out a long sigh. He then grabbed the other guard who had been talking to Viktor, pulling him aside for a little chat. Isaak couldn't overhear their conversation, but judging by the looks on their faces, they were clearly not pleased.
After a few seconds of talking, one of the guards approached Isaak again. This time, he seemed a bit calmer than before, and his voice took on a persuasive tone.
"Listen. You've got a chance here. Just say you had a fight. It'll clear up all this nonsense and save you from any further trouble." His tone dripped with false sincerity. "You can make all of these problems go away, just like that."
Isaak's stomach dropped at the suggestion. He knew the reason why Frode was warning him, and it should not be taken lightly. Snitching was a line he shouldn't cross, not now, not ever.
"Like I said before, I just slipped. That's all, no more, no less." Isaak repeated himself, his voice steady despite the tension around him.
The guard's brow furrowed as confusion washed over him. "Think about it! With just a single word, there will be no more hassle for you."
"Nothing. Happened." Isaak locked eyes with the guard, persistent and unwavering.
Silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating. The guards exchanged glances, frustration hidden in their eyes as they tried to think of their next move.
Then suddenly, Viktor stepped forward, breaking the tense silence with an easy smirk on his face.
"It's about time the yard time ended."
"Why don't you two turn a blind eye to this and go treat yourselves?" He suggested, his hands smoothly moved into his pockets.
The guards shifted uneasily as Viktor leaned in closer, lowering his voice just enough for them to hear.
"I happen to have some cigarettes here. Don't tell the Warden what happened here, and we chill, right?"
He revealed a crumpled pack from his jacket and secretly offered it to them, watching their expressions shift from annoyance to intrigue.
One guard eyed the pack hungrily while the other shot him a warning look.
"Remember, there won't be a next time."
Viktor continued with a smirk. "Of course, there won't be any more trouble. Just take them and go. Walk away now before things get messier."
After a moment of hesitation, the guards reluctantly accepted Viktor's offer and retreated. They gave one last glare at Isaak before heading back to the gate.
Once confirmed that they had long gone, Isaak let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Phew… That was—"
Suddenly, he felt a hand around his neck, nearly choking him in surprise. Next came the laughter of a person who had his arm around him.
"Hahaha, looks like he passed, right? Big Shot?"
It was Benji, the hostile man who had tried to pick a fight with Isaak earlier, now laughing as he wrapped his arm around him. Beside him was Sam, who looked at the young man with somewhat admiration.
"You surprised me. I didn't expect you to not snitch; in fact, I expected you to spill everything the second you opened your mouth."
"Hey, don't say that to him. He didn't snitch, did he?" Benji shot back with a smirk at his friend.
In response, Sam smirked back too. "Look at who's talking. Didn't you just try to pick a fight with him earlier? Why are you acting like he's a good friend of yours now?"
Being hit on the nail, Benji tried to explain himself. "Uhh, well, I now have different views about him; that's what matters."
"Right, different views."
While the two of them began arguing, Isaak turned his attention to Viktor, who stood in front of him. Viktor looked into Isaak's eyes for a moment as if checking something, then nodded with an approving smirk.
"You proved yourself. You can now speak your business, and I will consider it."
Isaak sat there like a stone statue, unsure if what he heard was right.
"Huh…? Is that it?"
Beside him, Frode began speaking again, his voice calm and steady as he explained to Isaak.
"Of course it is. You've faced two challenges to determine whether you are a coward, a rat, or a reliable ally. While it may seem straightforward and easy, many people have fumbled, you know?"
Isaak glanced from the old man to Viktor, his eyes narrowing.
"That was a test? All of it was a test??"
Upon hearing Isaak's words, Frode froze for a moment before placing a hand on his forehead and exhaling a heavy sigh. He couldn't believe what the young man beside him had just said.
"Don't tell me you're so stupid that you didn't realize it was all a test! How is that even possible?"
"I suspected something was off but kept it to myself as just a theory. Who would have guessed it was an actual test—"
"It was so obvious that even a kid could understand it!"
Suddenly, Isaak received a sharp knock on his forehead, causing him to yelp in surprise. Meanwhile, Frode muttered in annoyance and disdain; it seemed like he was starting to get used to this type of exchange between the two.
"Why the hell did I end up working with an idiot like you? We're so doomed…"
Viktor watched the two, his gaze changed from amuse to somewhat envious for a brief moment, before it shifted back to normal. No one see that, not even Viktor.
He moved in front the two of them with a more serious voice.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that." Viktor spoke, his deep voice cutting through the banter. "Now that you're done clowning around, it's time you tell me your real business before the yard time end. I might just be interested."
Isaak straightened up, shaking off the earlier tension from his confrontation with the guards. He knew that if he had snitched about the arm-wrestling, this opportunity would never have come.
Beside him, Frode looked at Isaak, then nodding ever so slightly, allowing the young man to say it.
Isaak took a deep breath before began, his voice unwavering.
"Viktor Ivanov. I want you to join us."