Before him, the prison loomed in an ominous and foreboding way. Reminiscent of Irish castles and the horrors that would lay within; more than just dark red tapestries that made Asri curl his lip at the mere sight of them. The prison, though not as mid-evil, held the same sort of men that a castle once did. Horrible, doggish men. Hounds. Little demons with their horns shaved down, no longer points. Harmless in that they were caged, but dangerous in that they were still alive. There were more than a few prisoners that deserved a death sentence; a life long prison stint in the fiery depths below. Asri would lie through his teeth and say only God could judge the guilty, but he felt it in his bones when he looked at the prison. Scourge of the earth resided inside. Pedophiles, rapists, murderers. Some all three at once. Thinking about them made a shiver of excitement run up the young priest in training. A little feeling of arousal settle in his lower stomach, like hot water spreading through his abdomen and down his thighs. Asri liked the prison. Like the cold, gray interior. The bleak clouds that lay overhead and the even bleaker ceiling that seemed lower and lower the deeper and deeper he walked into it.
The sound of his boots clicking through the long corridor was soothing to Asri. A repetitive, constant sound that echoed and followed him like some faithful dog. With hands slid into the pockets of his jeans, the young, baby faced brother walked with total purpose. There was nothing that he enjoyed more than playing. Like a cat that caught a mouse and wanted to watch it writhe and squeak, all Asri wanted to do was play. There were certain inmates he found interesting and others not so much. A pedophile he got to whisper in his ear the things he’d done to the children he’d killed only for him to slide his hand between the brothers thigh and ask to be able to repeat the act on him. This wasn’t the sort of prisoner that interested Asri. The ones that gave in so quickly. That saw young, fresh meat in front of them that appeared so easily to break and all but lunged at the chance to taste. To take a bite. He’d never deny laying himself out as bait for sinners to take, but it disappointed him when they snapped at his exposed soul so quickly.
Before seeing Mason, he’d visited all of two prisoners. The first being the pedophile who had violated him. He bored Asri more than day time television had. The second had been a man who killed three women. He’d been a bit more interesting, but halfway through their conversation, he’d tried to throw his chair across the room. The guards had flooded in, protecting the little man of faith as they tried to subdue the prisoner. All the while Asri would have to shift awkwardly to not expose the budding erection that pressed at the front of his jeans painfully. Unfortunately, he was denied further access to this prisoner and when he chose Mason’s name out of random, he was even more delighted with what he found. Because Mason seemed more dangerous than both before yet he’d done what neither of them had done. Mason had listened. He’d sat there and listened, despite whatever bullshit he spit back in Asri’s face. Whatever anger had been boiling at the forefront, he never once arose and used it. Many threats, but never acted upon.
A subdued and slumbering beast.
Asri wanted to know what would wake him up.
“Hello, my good guards,” Asri greeted, pulling the scarf from his throat and placing it in the bucket they presented in front of him. “I’ve learned the drill, don’t worry,” the brother said, taking his rolex off and putting it into the bucket as well. Gone went his belt and his bible and whatever else they deemed could be used as a weapon. They never once checked the packet of cigarettes he said was a gift for the prisoner.
“Yer fuckin’ with bulls here, father,” a guard said gruffly as he lead Asri down further into the bowels of hell. The Irishman smiled, broadly and happily, looking up at the guard who stood towering above him. Which wasn’t hard, considering his lithe and tiny frame. Most men were bigger than the little Egyptian. He stood barely at five-nine and weighed less then a hundred fifty pounds. But Asri had never relied on his physical side to help him out in situations. It was a quick witted tongue and a hundred different personalities that made Asri dangerous. Also, a fondness for fire and the ability to run a mile in under five minutes. A quick little fucker when things got too bad. Asri stared into the guards sullen, British face.
“I know. It’s fun,” Asri replied as he stepped to the door where Mason lay in wait behind. The guard started to say something, but Asri cut him off and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. It shut with a final thudding sound, a click and then he was alone with the prisoner.
It wasn’t just that Mason had played along with a game he possibly didn’t know he was involved in. Asri wasn’t lying when he’d called the brute Adonis looking. He was the perfect specimen in that regard. Hulking. Massive. Formidable. Handsome. Asri stepped forward to the seat he could sit in, but instead he pulled the cigarettes from his pocket and took two from the packet. Sticking one into his mouth, he pulled the matches from inside the pack, lit it and then used the cherry from his to light the other one. “Curious is it that the guards will take my scarf but not my matches,” Asri said, stepping around the table bolted to the ground, leaning a hip against it and extending the cigarette out to Mason. “Curious is this entire establishment, you agree?”