A night of sleep was all I got as recuperation time after the lashes. They weren't debilitating enough for me to be granted time in the sick bay and because they were a punishment, I was expected to just get on with it. It was lucky my pain tolerance had risen considerably with my nightly 'power training'.

It might have been okay to heal myself now that I was all wrapped up. It was unlikely that anybody would ask to see my wounds after all but the risk was there and after the tongue lashing I had received yesterday, I didn't want to take any more risks. So on I soldiered, liked the brave little boy I was.

Breakfast only served to worsen my mood. The wounds were a constant annoyance but one I could have ignored if not for the looks and whispers I was getting from everyone else in the canteen.

It seemed everyone had heard about the events from the day before, which I suppose wasn't surprising given the fact people had died, and we had destroyed part of the showers.

Each glance, laugh, and muttered comment ate away at my resolve. I felt like I was revealed, as though they knew all my secrets.

It made the pain I was feeling from my back that much more noticeable. Each scrunching of my shoulders and hunching of my spine pulled on the wounds. Every reactionary jolt doubled my frustration.

By the time I was done eating, I was second guessing my decision to not heal myself. Running through a list of excuses as to why I would be justified in doing so. Then, as the last shred of my willpower was leaving my mind, Grian approached me.

"Alone today, Warlock?" He asked, a friendly smile plastered to his face as he sat down.

Tom and the gang hadn't joined me today. It wasn't too rare, sometimes they had other things to take care of and needed to go to the workshop early. It was a little tough to take on that day though. Almost like I'd been abandoned and now the wolves were circling.

"Yeah, they must have needed to do something in the workshop."

His face attempted what I assumed was a look of pity, only it was so alien to his features, it came out more like a condescending frown.

"Brandon, I won't lie to you. I'm the sort that tells it like it is. Ain't that right, boys?" He asked of the two goons dutifully stood behind him.

"Yeah boss," Bobby Jr replied. Meat was too busy staring at my food to respond, earning himself a dig in the ribs from his fellow crony.

"So let me tell you that people like Tom and William are not the ones you should be spending your time with. They're not your sort of people."

"Oh?" I asked, wondering where he was going with this. I mean, he wasn't wrong. They weren't the sort of people I would have willingly chosen to hang out with on the outside. That didn't mean they were bad people, or that I didn't like them though. We had a laugh together and they were good to work with.

"Look how they've abandoned you," the weird condescending look came over his face again. "That's not what you need. You're a fighter, you should be around other fighters. People that would stick up for you. Not ones that would leave you "

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind," I said, doing my utmost to resist the urge to get up and walk away. Doing that would definitely cause a problem and I was determined to think more about my decisions and their potential consequences.

Grian clearly didn't like that answer though it clearly wasn't enough for him to kick up a fuss over.

"I heard about your scrap with Amir and his boys last night. I'd had a few run-ins with them over the years so I know how tough they were. It's a good thing you had Old Billy to come back you up, ay?" He said as he got to his feet.

"Yeah, very. Without Billy, I wouldn't be sitting here right now."

"Think about what I said. Old Billy's only getting older. He won't be around forever. You could be someone in here if you make the right choices."

I gave him and his boys a polite smile as they left. Glad that I had kept my composure. It was clear Grian was trying to get me into his crew but I wasn't sure why he was set on the idea, or if the idea was even his.

There was no respite to be found in the workshop either. I barely made it through the door before one of the guards told me the boss, Celine, wanted to see me. I'd seen her on the workshop floor a few times, working with some of the more experienced prisoners on the harder pieces. From what I'd seen and heard, she was fair but didn't take any shit. She'd laugh and joke with the boys but if anyone overstepped the line, they'd know about it.

Anxiety gnawed at me as I made my way up the steps to her office under the watchful eyes of the entire workshop. At least it felt that way. I'd come to enjoy working here. Crafting was fun, the people in here were good to talk to, and the challenge of improving myself in a way that could be measured was thrilling. Steeling my nerves, I knocked on the door. Fortunately she didn't make me stew and almost instantly called for me to come in.

"Brandon," Celine said as I entered. "Have a seat."

I did as she asked, sitting on the lone chair in front of her imposing desk. Celine studied me for a moment, no doubt checking out the small cuts and scrapes I had on my face.

"I'm sure you're aware of what I want to talk about so I'll cut right to the chase," she told me as she met my eyes. "I don't want trouble makers in my workshop."

My heart sank upon hearing the words. This was the end of my crafting career. I'd never again be able to improve any of my times, I'd likely lose my friendship with Tom and the boys. I'd definitely not get a chance to steal anything good, nevermind try my hand at making weapons. Believing I had no other recourse, I decided to defend myself.

"It wasn't my fault, Boss. Amir was trying to pressure me into making weapons and that wasn't something I was willing to do. When I said no, they attacked me. Honestly, I'm not a troublemaker. I just want to keep my head down and do some work."

She studied me as I made my plea, her gaze unnerving as it flicked from my eyes to my mouth. I was sure she would have heard last ditch attempts like this before. It was likely she had seen through them all before and sent them packing but it was the only thing I had. she didn't respond initially, choosing instead to watch me as I fidgeted with my hands until eventually she put me out of my misery.

"Yes, that's what I heard from the warden as well. It would be stupid of me to ignore the fact this is the second such incident you have been involved in, in a relatively short period of time. An escalation from last time as well."

She kept up her intense scrutiny for a moment longer before she let out a sigh, leaning back in her chair.

"I do believe you about this 'Amir' fellow though. Roach and Pete were always up to no good, I just could never catch them red handed. Not that you've done me a favour, mind you," she said with a pointed glare.

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"I can appreciate that you weren't responsible for the whole situation but honestly? I would have kicked you out if it hadn't happened for the reason it did. Refusing to betray the trust of the workshop is something I can't punish you for. This time.

"You're a talented lad, Brandon. Despite your disastrous start, you're doing well here. You might be the least naturally talented worker we've ever had but you've been working hard and we can all see that. I'd hate for you to lose the progress you've been making. So, let this be your final warning. No more violence. None. Stay away from it all or you're out. Am I clear?"

"Yes Boss," I answered sincerely. There was nothing to be gained from me getting into more fights so it was an easy promise to make.

"Now that the stick is out of the way, let me offer the carrot. Despite your genuinely awful first attempts at every task, your improvement and work rate is impressive. So much so that I was planning to pull you aside for a chat about joining in on some of the more interesting projects. Is that something that you would like to be involved in?"

There wasn't much to think about with the offer. The projects I saw Celine help with were usually the most intriguing both visually and technically. My only concern was whether I would continue my streak of being incredibly poor the first time out.

"That would be great! Will it be things I'll be able to handle?"

She barked out a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm not going to give you something that would ruin the whole project. It'll just be enough to challenge you."

"That'd be amazing then, thanks Boss."

I left her office feeling a lot better about the whole ordeal. So much better in fact, that I barely noticed all the looks as they followed me down. It was nice to know that my hard work was being recognised.

"What was that about?" Tom asked as I arrived at my usual station.

"The Boss was giving me a warning after the fight yesterday," I answered.

"I heard about that. Nasty business but I'm glad ya made it out okay."

I could see H and the others clearly listening in and doing a bad job of pretending otherwise so I decided it was better to address that it happened, rather than dance around the issue. At this point, I imagine the whole prison knew anyway. Better to get ahead of the rumours and get my story out there.

"Yeah, it was tough. Amir had been trying to get me to do work for him basically since I joined and I think what happend with No shoes pushed him over the edge. Wish it could have ended differently but he just wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Still can't believe ya survived a fight with Pete," Tom muttered. "He might have been the strongest man I ever saw."

"To be honest, if Billy hadn't come in, I'd be dead. He saved my life."

Tom blew out a breath. "That's another thing I can't get over. Old Billy saving lives. Who'd have thought it?"

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"He's got a reputation," H said, giving up all pretence of work. "A scary one."

"Yeah, nobody fucks with Old Billy," Ginge added, putting down the table leg he had been working on.

"I can see why. The guy's a monster," I told them. "He basically took them all on himself."

"Ya need to be careful with people like him, Warlock. He'll lead you down the wrong path."

"To be fair he saved my life."

"That's how his sort get ya. They do something for ya and then suddenly ya owe them and ya can't get out of it," Tom spat.

Clearly there was a wound there, I just didn't know how to unpack it. It sounded like he knew this from experience but I couldn't tell whether it was directly related to Billy, or an experience he had and was projecting onto me.

"Billy's not like that. I'm not sure why he's got a bad reputation but he's always been nice to me. His cell is next to mine so we speak often."

"Tom's right, you should be careful around him," H told me. "I've heard some stories about his earlier years and trust me, they're not for the faint hearted."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" I asked, intrigued.

A smile played on H's lips like I knew it would. The guy loved telling a story. Especially if that story was only one he knew, and nobody would know which parts he embellished. Because he would be embellishing. That was something I knew for sure.

I had to hand it to the man, he was charismatic and could tell a tale or two. It was just a shame that the accuracy was up for debate. My current belief was that he lied every other sentence.

"Well, the word is that your pal Billy used to be a major figure in the underworld. I'm talking a top tier enforcer. The sort of guy the top brass sends when they need a problem solved. Permanently."

He paused for a moment to check our reactions, pleased with the small huddle we'd made around him.

"From what I heard, he used to knock about with a partner. Some guy that loved daggers. I don't know the guy's name, I just know that he used to be strapped to the gills with them. And get this, he used to carry an hourglass."

He looked at the confusion in our faces, lapping up the attention.

"I know, I know. Mad right? Anyway, apparently these two would go around performing jobs for the head honcho. Kicking in doors, snatching people from beds, hunting down rivals. You get the idea. But you see, bashing skulls in wasn't exciting enough for them. No, not for these two. They were too good at it. It was too easy for them. They needed a challenge.

"So these sick bastards start making a game of it. They'd turn up to a location and instead of the usual talking and threatening, they'd just put down an hourglass. Right in the middle of whether they were. Didn't matter who was around.

"I can tell what you're all thinking. 'What's an hourglass got to do with anything?' How do I know that? Why, because that's what everyone thought. At least initially. Then the violence began. You see these guys thought they'd spice up their boring lives by introducing a challenge. Before the last grain of sand fell, they wanted to have killed everyone in the area. And the crazy fuckers would succeed. Just straight massacring people until the sand ran empty and then… poof." He made a scrunching motion with his hand. "They'd disappear."

I looked at him in disbelief. Not believing what I was hearing. The problem was a worrying amount of his story lined up with things I already knew, because the partner he was describing was definitely Marky.

His grin only widened at the look on my face.

"The story gets even crazier because these bastards weren't even satisfied with that. No, they would still put the hourglass down as a timer but the real sick thing is that they had three different versions.

"If you got the first, you had to survive until the last grain fell, if you got the second they would give you until the last grain fell to get away, and if you got the third, well that's when their fun really began.

"You see, their third was the quickest. Too rapid to get a full round out really so they'd split them. Start off with killing initially then the sand runs out and they flip it, you now have seconds to run away but uh oh, it's flipped back to the killing side again and you've not made it out the room. Suddenly you've been peppered with daggers and a giant of a man is trying to crush your skull."

H leaned back, a smug look on his face as he revelled in our attention. His story reeked of bullshit but there were enough matching points that made me question it. Marky had an unhealthy obsession with hourglasses, and Billy was frightening. The tale wasn't totally out of the realm of possibility.

"Nah, you're full of shit," Ginge scoffed. "Billy's reputation is because he basically ran the prison before the warden got here."

"He was only running the place because of what he did with the hourglasses," H snarled back. "If it wasn't for that, nobody would have listened to him."

"You're full of shit. I've never heard about anything with hourglasses and Old Billy. You're making it up to scare Warlock."

"I swear I'm not!" H exclaimed, logging genuinely offended. "I heard it from Oppie years back, and he was a lifer."

"Yeah, whatever," Ginge said dismissively as he went back to his workbench.

"I swear," H pleaded, looking at me and Tom for backup.

I just shook my head.

"It sounds a bit far-fetched to me, sorry, H. Anyway, I need to get started. Celine's said if I keep my head down and my work ethic up, she'll let me in on the good projects."

That stopped them in their tracks.

"The boss said that?" Tom blurted. "After the fighting?"

"She said that I'm on my last warning for the fighting. I can't be involved in anything but if I can stick to that, and keep doing well with the jobs, then she'll let have a go at the fun stuff."

"You must be blessed by the gods," H uttered. "Survived a fight with Pete, backed up by Old Billy himself, and now you're already being invited to work with the big guns. You've barely even arrived."

The rest of the shift proceeded relatively well. There were still stares and the occasional comment but I managed to get engrossed in my work, only distracted by the occasional banter with the boys. I was back on nails and by the end of the day, I'd even managed to set a new personal record for total made.

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