Chapter 165: Prison Time

"This isn't good; we're not in a regular holding cell awaiting trial. We're surrounded by hardcore criminals."

Reicher said it wasn't good, but his expression remained calm.

Paul, on the other hand, was panicking. He stupidly went to the hallway and looked around, quickly running back in fear.

Jack climbed back onto the top bunk, lying down to conserve his energy. Today was going to be tough; he had only ever fought one-on-one, never against a group.

"Why are we being held here?" Paul asked, panic-stricken.

"That's not what you should be worried about right now," Reicher said, climbing back to his own top bunk. "You should be more concerned about yourself."

"Why?" Paul's panic increased.

"They're trading cigarettes, magazines, even meat from today's lunch, all to get the first go at you."

Reicher began to intimidate him seriously. "You're not a person here; you're currency. Save your strength. You'll need it."

Jack almost burst out laughing. Although this big guy was annoyed at being used by Finlay, he wouldn't let Paul get abused. He knew that if Paul revealed some information early on, it could make things easier for everyone.

Paul looked up at Jack on the other bunk, hesitated, and then huddled in the corner of the cell, trying to make himself as small as possible, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand.

Reicher turned his playful gaze towards Jack, making him realize that compared to Paul, he probably looked more like an easy target.

Damn it, Jack felt a chill, not out of fear but disgust at the thought of having to engage physically with those guys.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before a big black guy with a full beard showed up at their cell door, whistling as he looked inside.

"Ah-ha, what do we have here? A soft, white chick with pretty glasses."

The big guy ignored Jack and Reicher on the top bunks and squeezed into the small cell with three smaller black men following him.

Only Paul wore gold-rimmed glasses. Seeing that the intruder was indeed coming for him, Paul cowered in the corner, looking like a bullied little wife.

"Come here, take off those annoying glasses."

The big guy grinned, unbuttoning his pants as he spoke.

Jack couldn't take it anymore. Though it wasn't directed at him, he didn't want to see anything disgusting that would ruin his lunch. He gestured to Reicher.

Reicher was annoyed but hopped off his bunk, landing in front of the big guy, startling him.

"Wow, look at this big gorilla. What do you want?" The big guy stepped forward, egged on by his followers.

"I'm giving you a choice, you fat pig. Leave now, or I'll have them carry you out."

Reicher unleashed his full aura, glaring down at the big guy with immense pressure.

"I'll count to three."

"One."

"Bastard, do you know who you're talking to?" The big guy was visibly shaken but still blustering.

"Two."

Before he could say "three," Reicher headbutted the big guy, stunning him. He then slammed his head against the bedframe and delivered two brutal elbow strikes to his ear.

The big guy had no resistance and was knocked out in less than two seconds.

Many people believe that large guys are strong but slow. Reicher's swift attack proved that this was just a misconception.

Jack, having sparred with Chris many times, knew that while they were similar in size and weight, Chris couldn't match Reicher in hand-to-hand combat. Jack even believed that if he and Reicher were confined to a small space without using healing magic, he'd be the one to fall.

Paul, cowering in the corner, was stunned by Reicher's lightning-fast strikes, shaking and breathing heavily.

"Now, get out of my cell."

Reicher casually took a pair of punk sunglasses from one of the big guy's followers, wiped them, and put them on.

"Take this fat pig with you."

The three followers hurriedly carried the unconscious big guy away.

"Want to get some sun?" Reicher asked his cellmates, pushing up his sunglasses.

"Let's go. It's too smelly in here." Jack jumped down, pulling Paul out of the corner and placing him between them.

Despite being a law-abiding citizen in his previous life and never having seen the inside of a prison, Jack had heard about a certain celebrity who spent their days sewing in jail. Compared to that, American prisons seemed much freer.

Since this wasn't a private prison, the yard was quite busy during exercise time. There was a simple basketball court where a group of black men were playing.

The three sat on the sidelines, leisurely passing the time.

"Stay away from me. I'm not interested in your mouth skills," Reicher said to Paul, who was huddling close to him.

"He'll protect you, trust me." Jack ignored Reicher's glare and patted Paul.

"Thank you, thank you both. I know I've caused big trouble." Paul was clearly still shaken from his earlier ordeal.

Reicher gave him a look that said, "No kidding. How else would you end up here?"

"Everyone who comes in here thinks they're innocent." Jack, staying in character, patted Paul's shoulder in comfort.

"I'm really not a criminal. I'm a currency manager. I was forced to use some financial tricks. I was coerced."

Paul was getting agitated.

Reicher pretended not to care but was actually trying to coax more information out of him. "I know everyone says that when they get caught."

"But I really was forced." Seeing the disbelief on their faces, Paul got anxious.

"They made it clear that if I caused them any trouble..."

"You'd be dead meat?" Jack prompted.

"I wish it were that simple. My boss said if I messed up their plan, they'd..."

"They'd nail me to a wall, cut off my balls, make me eat them, and then make me watch my wife and kids bleed to death."

Jack and Reicher exchanged glances, ignoring Paul. They noticed another group of men, more numerous and even more vicious-looking, eyeing them from a distance.

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