Grizz initiated the confrontation with a brutal right cross, a full swing aimed directly at Jack's jaw. Jack, however, was faster. He countered by a fluid shift of his head to the left, narrowly dodging the blow, and immediately retaliated with a straight right to Grizz's nose. The impact was visceral, a sickening crunch that sent Grizz reeling back several steps, his head snapping upward from the sheer force of the direct hit.
A collective gasp swept through the dining hall. Silence, thick and stunned, replaced the earlier murmur.
"The new guy actually has chops," a prisoner muttered, his voice full of disbelief. "He might actually put Grizz down."
Finn, Barry, and Uncle Ben watched the sudden, surprising display of fighting prowess. Jack wasn't just surviving; he was dominating. Suddenly, Finn's eyes widened. "Oh, no! Look! The goons are moving in!" he reacted, noticing Grizz's crew subtly beginning to encircle Jack.
"Bring it on, you rats," Jack hissed, adrenaline spiking.
But before the goons could launch their coordinated attack, Grizz stopped them with a raised, bloodied hand.
"Stop," Grizz commanded, his voice raw. "He is my prey." He straightened his neck with an audible click, then, in a terrifying display, he slowly licked the blood dripping from his nose and grinned- a predatory, devilish snarl that exposed his heavy canines.
"I'm relieved you didn't pass out from a single tap," Jack taunted, settling into the exhilarating chaos. "I'd have been genuinely disappointed."
"Pretty bold talk for a one-hit wonder," Grizz growled. He then lunged, driving his shoulder low in a powerful tackle that speared Jack's gut and slammed him violently onto the unforgiving concrete floor.
"Jack!" Finn cried out, his face a mask of anxiety.
Grizz mounted him instantly and began to rain down punches, a flurry of huge fists aimed at Jack's face, which Jack desperately protected with his arms, forming a desperate shield.
"It has been so long since I've had the pleasure of killing someone with genuine enthusiasm," Grizz announced, the maniacal grin still plastered on his face. He easily shoved Jack's defensive arms aside with one immense hand and landed a sickening punch with the other. "Now you'll learn the consequences of challenging me." He hit him twice more in quick succession. Jack felt a blinding pain as his nose broke, and the left side of his face instantly swelled and bruised.
Yet, Jack showed no outward sign of pain. He also noticed the grim security cameras positioned high in the corners of the dining hall. "No guards are intervening," he thought grimly. "I wonder if they truly want us to kill each other."
"Oh, God, Jack is bleeding badly," Finn whispered, his feet rooted to the spot, unable to bridge the gap and intervene.
"Then I won't hold back either," Jack decided. In one swift, desperate motion, he wrapped his legs around Grizz's thick neck and pulled, using his momentum to yank Grizz's back to the floor, completely reversing the dynamic. Twisting his body, Jack isolated his opponent's arm and hyper-extended the elbow joint- the armbar lock. It was a close counter, a move executed just moments before he would have succumbed to the relentless beating.
"Jack's got the advantage now!" Finn exclaimed in relief, though his breath was ragged.
Grizz struggled, groaning in acute pain as Jack exerted maximum pressure. "Damn you…" he hissed through clenched teeth, his face contorted.
"Hey, he's overpowering the Boss!" shouted one of Grizz's henchmen- a short, mouse-like figure with prominent ears and two front teeth protruding from his lips. "We need to do something!"
"The Boss explicitly told us not to intervene," replied a bald, rough-looking brute nearby.
"Damn it!" the mouse-faced henchman cursed, frantically scanning the room for a weapon. His eyes fell on a cluster of fallen metal chairs near Uncle Ben's table. He crept over and grabbed one, ready to swing. Just as he lifted it, a heavy blow caught him from behind.
"Barry?" Uncle Ben reacted, turning in surprise to see Barry, his cellmate, holding a chair and having just clobbered the mouse-faced man.
"That blackie hit our man!" yelled a snout-nosed henchman, pointing at their gang-mate now unconscious on the ground.
Barry wiped the blood from his own nose, his free hand gripping the chair. As the remaining goons advanced, he spun and hurled his chair, hitting one thug square on the head. In response, the other gang members grabbed nearby chairs, turning the dining hall into a projectile battlefield. A chair flew toward Barry, who ducked just in time, only for the missile to strike an innocent inmate in the crowd.
"Hey, how dare you, you bastards!" the infuriated inmate roared, picking up a chair and launching it into the fray. The crowd immediately retaliated. In seconds, the whole dining hall erupted into a savage riot.
Chairs flew, bodies were slammed onto tables, and fists and kicks turned the area into a chaotic free-for-all. The prison staff, cooks and servers in aprons and chef-hats, fled in terror, scrambling to avoid the rampant violence.
Meanwhile, Grizz fought the debilitating armbar. "You will regret this," he hissed, sheer agony visible in his eyes. Jack's immense effort was necessary; Grizz's arm was too bulky for a standard lock.
Then, fate intervened. A chair, thrown blindly through the air, struck Jack directly on the head. The stunning blow caused his grip to loosen momentarily. This single instant was all Grizz needed. He violently wrenched his arm free, pushed Jack aside, and staggered to his feet, clutching his throbbing elbow.
"You got lucky," Jack muttered, rising slowly, his own head ringing from the blow.
Grizz stretched his injured arm and took a rigid fighting stance. "Your luck just ran out," he promised. It was time for round two.
The rest of the hall was a cyclone of brutal violence. Finn and Barry formed a protective barrier around Uncle Ben, guarding him from both the front and back. Barry engaged Grizz's goons directly, while Finn, though taking multiple hits, remained dedicated to defending the old man.
At that very moment, a man in a control room watched the chaos with cold calculation, relaying instructions to the guards outside. "Stop the ruckus only when I give the signal."
"Understood, sir," a guard confirmed into his earpiece. Outside the heavy chamber gate, half a dozen guards, clad in blue and gripping revolvers, were poised, ready to descend the moment the order was given.
Grizz launched himself at Jack, attempting his devastating spear move once more. But Jack anticipated it, instantly sliding down between Grizz's legs, leaving the brute grasping at empty air. Jack quickly sprang up before Grizz could regain his balance and lunged forward with explosive force. Just as Grizz managed to turn, Jack smashed his knee into his face- a forceful, jumping knee strike that landed with bone-jarring accuracy.
"Huh? Why am I seeing the ceiling?" was Grizz's last conscious thought. His face bent upwards, his massive body fell backward, taking a near one-eighty-degree rotation as his center of gravity shifted completely from front to back due to the sheer power of the assault.
"Did you think the same trick would work on me twice?" Jack taunted, standing over his fallen opponent, the undisputed victor.
"Wai… you… bast…" Grizz tried to speak, but his vision blurred and swam, and within seconds, his heavy body collapsed, unconscious.
Amidst the swirling chaos, a henchman finally noticed the apex predator lying flat and defeated on the concrete, with Jack standing over him. "Boss is down!" he screamed, the shout cutting through the riot and instantly halting every fight.
"What? Grizz is finished?"
Every inmate's eye was drawn to the sight of the prison's bully, the self-proclaimed king, utterly defeated.
"Jack won!" Finn cried out, a mix of elation and relief despite his own scratched face and forming black eye.
"This young man is something else," Uncle Ben said, a tensed smile playing on his lips. "It looks like we have quite a troublesome cellmate."
"What are you saying, Uncle Ben? We should be happy he's this strong," Finn countered, rubbing his sore arm. "No one will dare trouble us now."
"Hmm," the old man hummed, his focused sight remaining fixed not on the victory, but on Jack.
The mouse-faced henchman, having recovered from Barry's blow, regained consciousness. He took in the scene: the defeated Grizz and Jack standing triumphant. "What the hell are you doing?" he shrieked at his paralyzed gang-mates. "Kill him now!"
His hysterical voice jolted the thugs back to their senses. They all turned toward Jack, weapons and fists clenched.
"Damn it," one hissed, and leaped toward Jack.
Just then, a sharp blasting sound ripped through the hall. The leaping henchman instantly collapsed mid-air, a crimson bullet hole blooming on his forehead. A pool of blood quickly spread around his upper body.
Every head snapped toward the exit, where the first line of prison guards stood with revolvers drawn. One man's gun was still pointed in Jack's direction.
"They shot him," Barry whispered, horrified.
"Stop this disturbance immediately before more force is used!" the guard with the smoking gun declared.
"Do you think six guards can stop a hundred of us?" Jack challenged, his eyes narrowed.
"Who said we were only six?"
Suddenly, the doors burst open, and dozens of additional prison guards, armed with Kalashnikovs, flooded the chamber, quickly encircling all the inmates. One wrong move, and it was game over.
"Why are so many of them here?" an inmate muttered in despair. "Are they planning a massacre?"
"Hey, I only have five years left," another said, his face pale with anxiety. "I don't want to die here."
"They won't kill us," Uncle Ben stated, his voice steady. "It would blow up far out of proportion. They have infamous convicts here; they know the rules."
"Quite clever, old man," a voice called from the exit, smooth and chilling. "It shows why you're the oldest resident in here."
"So you are here," the old man replied, his tone decisively firm. "The Skull Collector."
"The warden?" Jack thought in surprise.
"Is that the Warden?" an inmate murmured nervously.
"He never shows his face. Why would he come out now, all of a sudden?" said another.
"Is he going to personally execute someone?"
"Come on," Jack called out toward the shadows at the exit. "Show your face, you coward."
"Don't provoke him, Jack," Barry warned, fear gripping his voice.
At Jack's statement, a figure finally emerged and walked into the dining chamber with unnerving, measured steps.
"So that's the warden," Finn said, bewildered. "He doesn't look..." Just as he was about to complete his sentence, Uncle Ben quickly stopped him with a finger pressed to his lips.
"Don't comment on his appearance," Ben whispered sharply. "He's insecure about it."
"Huh?" Jack reacted with a raised brow, genuinely puzzled as he took in the infamous Skull Collector.
"Are you kidding me?!" Grizz's bald henchman yelled, pointing a disbelieving finger. "This twerp is supposed to be the ferocious Skull Collector? Is this supposed to be a joke?" he added, mocking the figure.
Before the echoes of his laughter faded, a second, sharp retort cracked the air. A bullet hole was instantly added to the center of the henchman's forehead. The guard with the revolver had executed the order instantly.
"Nobody mocks my looks," the warden stated, his voice quiet but deadly. He stopped directly in front of Jack, looking up into his eyes.
"So, this is the warden," Jack mused, scanning him from head to toe. He was a small man, barely reaching above Jack's waist, with jet-black hair cut into a severe bowl shape. He had a long, sallow face dominated by huge, dark eyes ringed by deep circles. High cheekbones dusted with freckles framed a thin nose, a thick lower lip, and a thick mustache. He wore a crisp light blue shirt beneath a pristine white doctor's coat, black trousers, and polished black leather shoes.
"Is that a scalpel clipped to his chest pocket?" Finn wondered, his eyes wide with morbid curiosity.
"Creating a nuisance in my prison," the warden said, glancing dismissively at the unconscious Grizz. Suddenly, with a practiced motion, he pulled a compact handgun from inside his coat and pointed it directly at Jack's forehead. "Any last words?"
"No, Jack!" Finn cried out, throwing his hands over his head in sheer panic.
"How amusing," Jack grinned, utterly unphased. "That's not a toy to play with, kid. Go bring your daddy here if you have an issue with me."
A terrifying, deafening gunshot immediately followed.
"No!"
Finn, Barry, and the rest of the inmates reacted in horror as the warden pulled the trigger.