37. Get Your Letters To her

(Outside San Fernando Correctional Building)

Monsters, that's what they were. They surrounded the outside of San Fernando Correctional with vicious and destructive intent.

A man by the name of Austin Carl led the group positioned in front of the building. They were the first to enter the ground proper of the famed prison in San Fernando. The total of dead bodies on the ground with their guard's uniforms drenched in blood could barely be counted.

Some were able to fight and caused casualties to the intruders, but others died at the hands of a sniper, guards who left their homes that day, unaware of the horror and injustice that would claim their lives.

To the left of the building, were two black vans with at least twenty-five men scattered around them. Their arms held guns of all sizes, ready for battle. Their clothes were drenched with the blood of men who only came that day to work, leaving their families to await their return. A homecoming that was made impossible by the vile creatures who raided the beloved prison building.

Positioned to the right of the building was the team of Rudolf's brother, Marshal. He is a man of many faces, feared by many and worshipped by some. Accompanying him were two of his most trusted man, along with forty others.

"A guard who managed to survive the assault was forced to kneel in front of them. He had been subjected to numerous punches and suffered a stab on his left shoulder.

Stefan, one of the two trusted guards walked up to the man and ripped the guard's nameplate off of his uniform.

"Gomez huh," the man said with mockery as he read the name on the plate.

Marco Gomez is a thirty-six-year-old guard who had begun working for the maximum-security prison seven years ago. He got married ten days earlier. His newlywed wife was pregnant with their first child. It was the reason why he chose to fight with all his might. Unfortunately, he and his companions were outmaneuvered by a sniper. If it had been one-on-one, Marco could vouch for his ability to win, but to be faced by a long-ranged enemy was a recipe for failure.

"Any last words?" Stefan asked. Marco only answered with a grin. His thoughts though were filled with numerous words.

As a single shot was fired at his head, thousands of random memories and words came crashing inside his brain, but there was one word in his mind that was absolutely clear, Shania, the name he chose for the daughter whom he will never meet.
***

(East Wing)

Protacio and Sebastian kept their breathing slow with their movements reminiscent of a sloth. An hour ago, just when they were ready to leave the stock room, they heard multiple footfalls accompanied by rough voices, tones that Protacio was certain, did not belong to any of the guards. When the voice acknowledged Rudolf, the warden knew, they were in deep shit.

Sebastian gazed at the prison's head and couldn't help but question, why exactly did he take the warden's side? He could have joined forces with Rudolf and gotten a chance to escape.

Why?

Sebastian would never admit it, but it was probably due to his mistake. He thought the letter belonged to the warden and in the weirdest sense, it made him feel sorry for him. He felt the pain with every word in that letter. A pain that made him mellow down and accept the warden's plea for help.

He shook his head and thought to himself. The prison was supposed to toughen him up, not to mellow him down.

But what's done is done. Hey, he was perhaps a criminal, but even criminals had a word of honor. Convicts pride, so to say. He is a man when he gave his words, he will be a man until the end. Only a sissy would back down, and he was far from one.

"What are you thinking?" Protacio questioned when he saw how intently Sebastian was gazing at him.

"This looks like a closet, aren't we supposed to be making out?" Sebastian answered teasingly.

Despite the fear of getting caught by Rudolf's man, if they make a sound, warden Protacio smacked his companion heavily on the head.
***

(North Wing)

After Demitri left him to stand on his own, Farlow began to lose his confidence. His partner was a huge influence on how he worked, the thought that someone was standing beside him gave a different sort of strength. Could Farlow blame his partner though? Could he truly hate the guy because he chose his family over their friendship? No, Farlow thought to himself.

The lone guard took a deep breath and slowly walked towards the entrance of the hall, where all the notorious criminals lay.
***

(West Wing)

Sheldon kept his eyes on Mark, he had to admit, he was tempted to talk to the young man and assure him that he did right with Melinda in the end. But he still wanted the guard to suffer a bit longer. Mark must understand that what transpired was something that he must keep in his heart forever. Melinda must have been loved by someone somewhere, but she chose Mark over them. A man who ended up breaking her heart.

"How long are those two gonna take?" Raffy asked no one.

"We don't know, I mean, it's the North wing," Johnny answered. His words did not receive further replies or questions, everyone knew the North wing was an abominable place. A hall that housed monsters.

"Do you think the warden is dead?" Raffy inquired, unable to keep his mouth shut.

Once again, no one answered the floating question, because each one of them was aware, that what Demitri and Farlow said earlier could be true.

Unable to suppress the pain inside him, Mark walked towards Melinda's corpse, bent down, and picked up a letter. He was about to read what was written when Sheldon suddenly grabbed the paper from his hand and asked, "Who owns these letters, why do you keep reading them anyway?"

Mark stared back at Sheldon, eyes wet with tears, and answered, "They're from 247."

"The old man who was found dead yesterday?" Johnny asked.

"Mark bobbed his head and tried to take the Letter back from Sheldon's grasp.

Sheldon didn't allow him to retrieve the letter. He raised his arm and watched how Mark desperately tried to reach for it. Sheldon was at least eight inches taller than Mark, which made it impossible for the young one to take the letter back.

"What's your problem?" Mark scoffed. The irritation he felt was obvious in his voice. He glared at Sheldon and jumped off of the floor to reach the letter which was still high in the air, held tightly by the hand of the other man

"Why are you reading it, isn't that... I don't know, rude or something?" Raffy blabbered.

Mark halted his jump and glanced at his companions, then walked towards the warden's desk and sat on top of it.

"I don't know why, but that old man has words that could haunt you in your dreams or probably fulfill your dreams." He said to them.

Sheldon arched his eyebrow and then asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"What kind of letters are these anyway, you can't just read his family's letter, Mark," Raffy muttered accusingly at him.

Mark shook his head, "Those letters were written by him. It did not come from someone, it's supposed to be for someone, but I guess the old man never sent them."

"Why would anyone write a letter and not send them?" the question came from one of the renegades who had been listening in on their conversation.

"Mind your business thug!" Johnny yelled to the man.

The man on the floor just smiled at him and then whispered, "Well, who was it for anyway?"

All eyes fell on Mark, despite the guard's need to ask the renegade to shut up, what he said piqued their curiosity.

Mark rubbed his nape and then answered, "Maria Ventura, the wife of the man he murdered."

A loud thud had the guards looking in Sheldon's direction. The man had fallen off of the broken cabinet he was seated on.

"Had the fight earlier affected you so much?" Raffy asked, whilst smiling as he walked towards Sheldon.

Mark suddenly shivered when Sheldon stared at him with the coldest gaze he had ever seen from the man. The young guard immediately raised his hands and said, "Hey man, chill, what's wrong with you?"

Sheldon stood from his position, so fast, that it startled the other guards. Mark, who was shocked a bit deeper than the rest, watched how Sheldon strode towards him at a threatening pace. There was a deadly aura in the way Sheldon eyed him and it made him jump off of the warden's desk, then forced him to run towards the other side of the room.

"What the hell is your problem?" Mark yelled at the man. But he was answered with a question instead.

"What was 247's name? Where did he commit the crime?" Sheldon yelled tersely.

"Mark shook his head and answered," I don't know, but his name is Lucious Dualti."

Sheldon felt like a bucket of cold water was suddenly poured on him. He lost the strength of his legs and arms, then a dark memory followed which suddenly claimed his already confused mind.

Amidst Sheldon's weird behavior, Raffy spoke and said, "It happened in a place called Marreta."

Mark glanced at Raffy, he gave him a baffled look as if asking him, how the hell did you know that?

Raffy leisurely sat on the floor and answered the silent question with, "I assisted the guards who brought the old man to the morgue yesterday. I saw it written on his file."

"The...the letters, where... How... is it..." Sheldon blabbered, his words came out incomprehensible which left his comrades confused.

After a few minutes of silence, an eerie silence that was interrupted, only by the coughing of the conscious renegade, Sheldon finally asked, "How many letters were there?"

"Fifty," Mark answered.

Sheldon walked towards the warden's desk, bent down, and began to pick up all the scattered letters on the floor. "There are only forty-six" he whispered.

Mark understood that the question was aimed at him, so he answered the man, "I don't know where the rest are."

Sheldon bobbed his head and thought to himself. Lucious Dualti, I will get your letters to her, I'm so sorry. 

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