Page 79 of Omega's Fever

I smell Roberts before I see him. Sour alpha aggression mixed with whatever passes for cologne in commissary.

He drops into the seat across from me, uninvited. Three of his crew spread out behind him, blocking easy exits.

I recognize the formation. Classic intimidation. It’s to make the target feel boxed in, nowhere to run. Roberts learned it from Valdez before Valdez got shanked in the showers. Prison education at its finest.

“Heard some interesting things while you were gone.” He leans forward.

I keep eating. The green beans are actually identifiable today. Small miracles.

“Heard you rolled over like a bitch rather than risk trial.” His grin widens.

My hand tightens on the spork but I don’t react otherwise.

I’ve fought the asshole before and took him down easily. That’s what this is about. His ego is bruised. He needs to save face and show he’s not scared of me. He’s going to keep going at me until we sort out the hierarchy. He’s too dumb to realize that I didn’t just get lucky last time. I don’t want to fight. Fighting is what turns seven years into ten. I’m not going to be getting the choice though. My best option is to go big and go hard now and make sure that my reputation is secured as someone you just don’t fuck with.

I sigh and put down my spork. “You sure you want to dothis?”

“You’re not threatening me. Are you Hayes? You think you’re such a big man. You think—”

The tray catches him full in the face.

Food explodes everywhere. Gravy in his eyes, mashed potatoes in his hair, green beans scattering across the floor like shrapnel. He roars, lunging across the table, and we go down hard.

His fist connects with my ribs and pain blooms bright. I get an elbow into his solar plexus and he wheezes, breath coming out in a whoosh of sour air. We roll across the filthy floor, trading blows.

Roberts fights angry, all rage and no strategy. I fight cold, calculated. Foster home defense 101. Go for maximum damage, minimum effort. End it fast before their friends jump in.

My knuckles split against his jaw. His knee finds my kidney and for a moment the world whites out. I use his momentum against him, rolling us so I’m on top, and drive my fist into his nose. Cartilage crunches. Blood spurts.

He’s screaming now. His crew shifts restlessly but doesn’t intervene. Prison rules. You start it, you finish it. Jump in and everyone jumps in. Nobody wants a full-scale riot over Roberts running his mouth.

The guards take their time breaking it up. They always do. Entertainment is scarce in here.

“Break it up! Break it up now!”

Hands grab my shoulders, hauling me back. Roberts gets the same treatment, still trying to swing even as they drag him away.

Blood streams from his nose, already swelling. He’s breathing hard, grunting with each movement. His face looks like tenderized meat.

“He started it,” I tell the guard holding me.

He sighs like a disappointed father. “I don’t care. Both of youget written up. Solitary for you, Roberts. Hayes, back to your cell. Now.”

Roberts spits blood on the floor, teeth outlined in red. “This ain’t over.”

“Never is,” I agree. I know his type. He’s going to need to be beat down another three or four times before he gives up, and then I’m going to need to be wary about a surprise shanking when I least expect it.

The walk back to the cell is a gauntlet of stares and whispers. Some impressed, some calculating. Hayes isn’t soft. Hayes will still throw down. Good to know. The social mathematics of prison realigning around this new data point.

Back in the cell, I note the damage automatically. Knuckles split but clean. That’s it.

I rinse my knuckles in the sink. The water runs pink, then clear. The cuts sting but it’s good pain. Familiar. Easier to process than the ache in my chest that started the moment they closed the van doors.

I lie back on the thin mattress, staring at the same ceiling I’ll be looking at for the next seven years.

My body aches from the fight, from the transport, from the loss of everything soft and good. Tomorrow I’ll wake up to the six a.m. count. Shuffle to the showers in a line like cattle. Stand under lukewarm water. Eat powdered eggs. Do it all again the next day, and the next, and the next.

The plea hearing is Thursday. Two days to make it official and that’s just a formality.