The Circle of Death

The tension was palpable as Corrections Officer Jackson escorted Colonel Nathan P. Kayode down the long, dimly lit corridor of the maximum-security prison.

Kayode clutched a thick leather folder marked with the word “CONFIDENTIAL” emblazoned in bold gold letters. The atmosphere was foreboding, and Kayode sensed the unease of the guards around him. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

“Keep your wits about you, Colonel,” Jackson warned, his voice low and serious.

“If you ask me, I think this guy is out of his God damn mind. So be very careful out there. He’s very, very dangerous. This is one man, you just don’t want to fuck with. He’s already severely hurt several other prisoners and a couple of officers,” the Corrections Officer said with a sigh, shaking his head in disappointment.

“And he hasn’t even been here that long.”

“How long has he been here?” Kayode inquired, his eyes scanning the long, dimly lit corridor.

“He was just transferred from another prison,” Jackson replied, his eyes flickering nervously as they approached the door.

“But altogether, he’s served six years and four months. He’s always kept to himself and never speaks to anyone. Even the toughest prisoners stay far away from him. And, to make things worse, he’s got a very murderous reputation for being unhinged.”

As they approached the end of the corridor, the colonel took a deep breath and steeled himself for what lay ahead. Jackson pulled out his set of keys and, with a final warning, unlocked the door to the prison yard.

“Like I said, be very careful out there, Colonel,” Jackson cautioned.

“This guy is no joke. He’s the real thing. Don’t worry. I’ll be watching from the control room.”

The heavy metal door creaked open, revealing a vast, open space bathed in bright sunlight. The scorching, arid air hit Kayode like a wall as he emerged into the yard, feeling the warmth enveloping his skin after what seemed like an eternity. But despite the heat, a lingering unease persisted at the back of his mind. And, as he swept his gaze across the expanse of the yard, scanning for the prisoner, his heart hammering in his chest.

Aware that danger could be lurking at every turn, Kayode knew he had to remain vigilant if he was to make it out of there unscathed. He had a duty to perform, and he wasn’t about to let anything deter him.

And then Colonel Kayode spotted him–a towering, formidable figure named Blaster lying on a workout bench in the center of the yard, engaging in solitary confinement, lifting weights.

Blaster was watched attentively by armed Correctional Officers who had cordoned off a perimeter of empty space, just for him. As Kayode approached Blaster, he could feel the eyes of the other prisoners on him, their wary silence adding to the tension. He sat down on the workout bench right next to Blaster, who continued with his workout as if Kayode didn’t exist.

The weight plates clinked together rhythmically as Blaster focused his attention solely on his physical exertion. Kayode respected the discipline and dedication he witnessed in Blaster’s unyielding determination. There was an unspoken understanding between them, a mutual recognition of strength and resilience.

Kayode observed the muscles rippling under Blaster’s sweat-soaked skin, evidence of the sheer power contained within his massive frame. It was a sight that commanded respect and reverence, a reminder of the formidable presence Blaster possessed within the confines of the prison walls.

With each repetition, Blaster pushed himself to the limit, his body a testament to his unwavering commitment to physical prowess. Kayode couldn’t help but be captivated by the display of raw strength before him, admiring the indomitable spirit that propelled Blaster forward.

In that moment, Kayode knew that Blaster was more than just a prisoner. He was a force to be reckoned with, a symbol of resilience in the face of adversity. And, as they were side by side on the workout benches, a silent understanding passed between them, forged through the unspoken language of shared determination. After a long moment, Kayode took out a picture from his thick leather folder and showed it to him.

“James…,” Kayode said, looking at the picture and then at Blaster.

“James Anthony Blaster. Yeah, it’s you, in the motherfucking flesh.”

Kayode put the picture back in the folder as Blaster paid him no attention and continued his workout. Kayode shuffled through the documents until he found the one he wanted.

“It says here, in black and white, that you were once the best battle-tested intelligence expert, the best of the best,” Kayode said, his voice low and serious.

“However, one night you disobeyed your commanding officer. You torched an entire village, thinking it was the enemy, but it turned out you had actually slaughtered friendlies: men, women, children, and even dogs. And then, to make things worse, you walked back to your position among your comrades and killed them all, including your Commanding Officer, and an entire platoon of more than 30 soldiers. You didn’t even suffer a single scratch. And in the end, you walked into a precinct holding an M-16, killed several police officers, and demanded to be arrested.”

Blaster dropped the weights back onto the bench, sat up, and signaled for the officers to come and take him away. Kayode gestured for the officers to hold their positions, but despite his command, the six-armed officers took a few steps forward before stopping in their tracks. Blaster stood up and began to walk towards the officers, paying no attention to Kayode. Sensing the tension in the air, Kayode also stood up from the bench.

“Look, what if I told you I could get you out of this miserable place, Blaster? Right now,” Kayode said, his voice low and urgent.

Blaster stopped for a moment, looked back at Kayode, and kept walking forward towards the officers without paying attention to him.

“Hey, tough guy, I’m talking to you! Life without the possibility of parole means you’re going to be here for the rest of your life! Besides, you don’t look so tough to me, and obviously, you’re not very smart,” Kayode said, his tone becoming more aggressive.

Blaster froze for a moment, turned around, and walked up to Kayode, his eyes filled with murderous intent.

“You,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Get the fuck away from me, or I’m going to have to hurt you really, really bad. Do you understand me?”

Kayode didn’t show any fear.

“Listen to me,” he asserted with authority.

“You’re nothing but a worthless piece of shit. The only way you’re leaving this place is in a fucking box. Now, I can either walk out of here with you or walk out of here alone, leaving you to rot in this shit hole for the rest of your life. The choice is yours.”

Blaster strode purposefully towards the officers, his gait reflecting a confidence that belied his dire situation. He came to a halt, his piercing gaze sweeping over the eternal and desolate landscape around him. He took a deep breath, taking in the hopelessness of his situation before turning back towards Kayode. After a long moment of silence, Blaster spoke, his voice low and dangerous.

“How…?” Blaster asked, his face betraying a mix of curiosity and indifference.

“How the fuck are you going to get me out of here?”

Colonel Kayode held the folder high above his head, projecting an aura of authority and power.

“I have in my possession all of your release documents,” he declared confidently.

“All you need to do is sign a few papers and come with me.”

Blaster shook his head resolutely.

“Look, man, I think you got me confused with somebody else… up in here. Because, I'm not fucking going anywhere with you,” he replied, his voice firm.

Kayode’s tone turned icy as he revealed the truth Blaster had been avoiding.

“Oh, yes you are. You’ll cooperate fully. And do you know why? Because you’re a convicted murderer serving a life sentence in this miserable hellhole.”

Blaster responded with unwavering conviction, denying the accusation, “Murderer?! Look, you must have me confused with somebody else. Like I said before, you must have the wrong guy. I’m not a murderer, I’m a fucking patriot.”

But Kayode wasn’t easily swayed. He held up the folder and opened it, revealing the evidence that Blaster had been trying to deny.

“Look,” Kayode snapped, losing his patience,

“I have all the documents in here that proves your nothing but a fucking, twisted-ass murderer. Come on, man. Stop acting crazy. You don’t have to make believe with me. Because I know the truth. Now, let’s get this over with. You’re a real-life murderer. And that’s that. And I can’t change that. Because that’s what you really are. A fucking, twisted, sick-ass murderer… in the flesh. Why do you think you’re locked up in here, with the rest of these men? Look around you. It’s not like any of these men are in here for selling flowers. So, don’t talk to me like I’m fucking stupid.”

Blaster glanced at the folder and realized that Kayode was telling the truth. He looked around at the bleak surroundings, feeling empty and defeated.

“Why do you want to get me out of here so bad?” Blaster asked, his voice heavy with desperation.

Kayode’s low yet steady voice exuded confidence as he answered, “Does it even matter, Blaster? You’re going to spend the rest of your life in this horrible place.”

Blaster changed the subject, intrigued by the man in front of him.

“So,” he asked, staring into Kayode’s confident eyes.

“What’s your name? They call me Blaster.”

“Kayode. Colonel Nathan P. Kayode of the United States Army,” he replied.

Blaster remained unsatisfied. He glanced at the armed officers before turning back to Kayode with a curious smirk.

“So, what is it that you really do?” he inquired.

Kayode’s tone shifted to sternness.

“Look, what I do isn’t the point. What matters is what I’m about to do.”

Blaster persisted with his curiosity.

“And what might that be, Colonel Kayode?”

Kayode responded firmly, “To start with, I assure you I can facilitate your exit from this hellhole. Isn’t that what you desire, Blaster? To leave this place.”

Intrigued by Kayode’s promise, Blaster took a step forward.

“Are you suggesting you can guarantee my release?” he asked, his voice tinged with both skepticism and hope.

Kayode nodded confidently.

“Yes, indeed. And there’s no catch, Blaster. Just sign a few papers and accompany me.”

Eyeing Kayode suspiciously, Blaster retorted, “I’m not naive, Colonel. What’s your angle? What’s in it for you?”

Kayode paused briefly before replying in a low tone, “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your abilities, Blaster… Abilities I believe can be utilized beyond these walls.”

With a folder held up, Kayode declared, “All you need to do is sign a few legal documents, then we can proceed.”

Skeptical, Blaster inquired, “Proceed with what, Colonel?”

“Initially,” Kayode replied, a glint of excitement in his eyes, “your new life. A life of genuine freedom.”

Intrigued yet cautious, Blaster probed, “What do you mean?”

“It’s straightforward,” Kayode explained.

“Sign the documents, join me, and everything else will be clarified once we’re out of this real dark place… that we’re both in.”

Kayode’s excitement became palpable now that Blaster was on board.

After a moment’s contemplation, Blaster agreed, “Alright, Colonel Kayode. Let’s do this… right now.”

With that, the two men advanced, side by side, their steps imbued with a newfound sense of camaraderie. As they approached the door through which Kayode had emerged, and stepped into the prison yard, a palpable sense of anticipation and adventure filled the air.