BUZZZZZZ.
"Roll call in fifteen! UP AND AT 'EM!"
"Yeehaaawww~" Jovan yawned, his voice cracking as he rolled onto his side.
His body still carried the numb aftershocks of yesterday's fight. It lingered pleasantly, a dull ache spread through his shoulders and ribs like the soreness after a good workout. He stretched his arms wide, joints popping as he swung his legs off the bunk and stood. A good day, yesterday. The kind that reminded him he was still solid.
He shuffled to the sink and brushed his teeth on autopilot, movements lazy and familiar. His eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, like he was sleepwalking through the routine. The mirror reflected a mess of bruises and swelling, nothing new. He barely looked at it.
The cell was quiet.
Too quiet.
Jovan's cell only contained him. The second bunk had long since been claimed by stacks of books and old magazines, piled haphazardly where another man used to sleep. After about a year of picking fights with every cellmate they assigned him, the guards had decided it was easier to give him the "privilege" of a private cell.
Privacy was nice.
The silence wasn't.
Thankfully, his headphones were built well.
Pwtu.
He spat into the sink, rinsed, and pulled one earbud loose, Green Day still screaming faintly from the other. The sudden drop in volume made his jaw tense for a second before the ambient noise of the block filled the gap.
Better.
The electronic lock clicked, and his cell door slid open with a tired creak. Jovan stepped out into D Block, stretching his neck as he scanned the corridor. Inmates shuffled from their cells, some groggy, some already loud, voices bouncing off concrete and metal.
He crossed his arms, eyes flicking over unfamiliar faces.
No newbies today.
A guard passed by, baton resting against his shoulder. He stopped just long enough to glare down the line of inmates.
"Listen up," the guard barked. "D Block's on tighter watch starting today. Warden wants inventory clean. Contraband's getting calculated."
A few inmates groaned. Someone cursed under their breath.
Another guard snorted. "Boss says too much stuff's been going missing. Cigarettes, lighters, tools. Numbers ain't adding up."
Jovan tilted his head slightly.
Down the hall, a taller guard with sharp eyes and a clipped stride watched the block in silence, gaze moving not over faces, over pockets, hands, habits.
"Jovan! Get those earbuds out of your ears!"
The shout cut through the noise. A large guard shoved his way down the line, boots heavy against concrete.
Great, Jovan thought. Jefferson. So early in the morning and already itching for a power play.
He smiled brightly.
"Hm? Sorry, sorry, Jefferson, sir," Jovan said, tilting his head. "Not sure what you mean. I don't have any headphones in."
"You—"
Jefferson froze mid-step and did a sharp double take.
The earbuds were gone.
They hadn't fallen. They hadn't been dropped. One second they'd been pressed snug in Jovan's ears—Jefferson was sure of it—and the next they simply weren't there.
If he hadn't seen Jovan adjust them moments ago, he might've thought he was losing his mind.
Jefferson's jaw tightened. His hand shot out, grabbing Jovan by the collar and slamming him back against the cold metal of his cell door.
Whistles and low laughs rippled through the block as the other inmates found their morning entertainment.
"Don't think I didn't see you, Jorm," Jefferson hissed, leaning in close. "Don't lie to me."
Jovan met his glare calmly, unbothered. He lifted his hands and rested them lightly against Jefferson's forearm, fingers brushing fabric and muscle.
Jefferson's eyes flicked over Jovan's face—the fading bruises, the yellowed marks that never quite disappeared—then down at the corded strength in his shoulders.
He clicked his tongue and shoved Jovan away.
"Lucky for you I'm in a good mood this morning," he growled. "Line up properly. Now."
Jovan stepped back into place without a word.
Perched lazily on his shoulder, unseen by anyone else, Ace of Spades sat with its legs dangling, chest closed tight around a pair of earbuds that no longer officially existed. The roll call finished quickly and ended with an announcement.
"All right, ladies, listen up!" Jefferson barked, his voice cracking through the block. "We've got a large transfer coming in from other blocks today. Upstairs orders. I need you all to play nice."
Whistles and jeers rolled through the assembled prisoners, a few exaggerated cheers bouncing off the concrete.
"Quiet!" Jefferson snapped, bringing his baton down hard across an inmate's shoulder. The man grunted and fell silent.
Jefferson scanned the crowd once more, satisfied. "Roll call's complete."
The block erupted into motion immediately. Prisoners peeled off in practiced directions—some toward the canteen, others claiming tables for cards. The usual trading groups clustered into their corners, whispers already flying, while a handful made straight for the phone booths.
Jovan lit up as Ace of Spades slipped a cigarette neatly into his fingers. He took his first drag of the morning and let the noise settle into his bones.
"Jovan, buddy! You're back!"
He grimaced before he even turned.
Jester slid in beside him, thin and greasy, wearing a grin that looked stapled to his face.
"Don't bother me with your disgusting face this early," Jovan moved toward the canteen.
"Hey, hey—come on, man," Jester said, irritation flashing through the grin before he forced it wider. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to."
He leaned closer, breath sour. "OREO's gonna kill me if I don't pay back my loan. Just a small box of cigs. I'll pay you back in a week—"
Jovan stopped and turned slowly, a vein throbbed visibly on his forehead.
"GET LOST!"
For a heartbeat, Jester's face completely blanked, stunned by the blatant disregard for his own face. He could feel the gazes of other prisoners on his back from Jovan's loud shout.
Then his features snapped back into place, pale and tight.
"Tch—r-right. Yeah. Sure," Jester stammered, already stepping back. His grin returned too quickly, too wide. "Just remembered I had something to talk to Old Ban about. Catch you."
He was gone almost immediately, swallowed by the crowd.
The noise rushed back in.
Jovan grabbed his tray at the canteen. While no one was looking, Ace of Spades lifted a few extra apple juices and protein milks, tucking them away neatly in its chest for later. He ate his breakfast in peace, his ear buds once again playing in his ears.
[Today's AI Art]