The prison had grown quiet since the arrival of the new inmate. Whispers spread like wildfire through the blocks: a serial killer, bloodthirsty, cunning, and unpredictable. At first, he kept to himself, moving silently through the halls, his presence alone sending shivers down the spines of hardened criminals.
Then came the bodies. Two men were discovered in the showers, lifeless and mutilated. Panic spread. Guards doubled their patrols; inmates locked themselves in, fearful of being next.
One of the victims' cellmates, eyes burning with rage, approached me. "Akira… you have to do something. That… that monster—he can't just roam free. He killed my friend."
I nodded, calm and measured. Chaos could be a weapon if handled correctly—or it could swallow everyone whole. I walked to the warden, speaking quietly but firmly.
"He needs to go to solitary," I said. "Before he kills again."
The warden hesitated, aware of my influence. "And if he resists?"
"Then he'll learn why I run this place," I said. The statement alone was enough; the warden knew better than to argue.
Later, I waited in the corridor outside solitary. The killer was brought past, his eyes cold, unblinking, scanning everything like a predator sizing up prey. He held a knife in his hand, subtle but unmistakable.
I stepped forward. No words. No hesitation.
The fight was sudden, vicious, and bloody. He slashed, his knife cutting deep into tile and flesh, but I was faster. Each strike I delivered was precise—targeted to disable, control, and end the threat. Blood sprayed across the floor, the echo of grunts and impact bouncing off the walls.
He lunged at me again, eyes wild, but I sidestepped and drove my knee into his chest, snapping ribs. With a swift, practiced movement, I grabbed him and twisted, the knife falling from his hands. My hand found his neck, sharp, precise, and final. He collapsed, lifeless, his own blood covering the floor and the walls.
I stepped back, breathing evenly, my clothes now soaked—but none of the blood was mine. The killer had fallen; the threat neutralized.
I walked back to my cell, the echoes of the fight still ringing in my ears. Inmates eyed me with awe, some fear, some cautious admiration. Guards gave me a wide berth, and even the warden didn't meet my eyes, knowing better than to interfere.
The hallway smelled of iron and fear, but I felt nothing but clarity. Control had been maintained. Order restored. The prison boss had acted.
As I entered my cell, I cleaned my hands, glancing at the bloodied clothes. Not mine. Not mine at all. But a message had been sent: no one would disrupt the balance here without consequences.
And in the shadows of this prison, that balance was mine to command.