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guys coming into the joint, he had something to prove. They were all angling to establish their dominance. Alpha males, each and every one of them. All looking to be at the top of the pecking order.
    Slade stood up and got ready for a fight.
    She studied the inmate. Watched his eyes. His hands. His posture as he approached.
    “That’s some mouth you’ve got on you,” the inmate said. “You better believe I’m gonna put it to good use—“
    BAM!
    Slade landed a right cross square on his jaw before he could finish. The blow snapped his head back. With lightning speed, she mashed her heel into his knee. Ligaments and tendons crackled as the knee bent sideways. The inmate dropped to the ground. Slade put a hard elbow in the back of his neck.
    He flattened against the ground, blood oozing from his lips and nose. He whaled in pain, but he wasn’t getting back up. He wasn’t ever going to walk without a limp, if he was ever going to walk at all.
    She scanned the crowd of onlookers with cold eyes. Her little demonstration was enough to make anybody else think twice about messing with her. Right now, Slade was atop the pecking order. And that was just how she liked it.
    “Hey! Try not to kill each other before we get to the prison,” one of the guards yelled. “We only get paid for live inmates.”
    The fallen inmate writhed in agony on the floor, screaming and whaling. He begged the guards to help him.
    “Shut up, maggot,” a guard yelled. The acetate nameplate above his badge read: O’Connor.
    But the inmate didn’t stop.
    “She broke my fucking knee, man. I need medical assistance.”
    “Don’t make me come in there and shut you up,” O’Connor said. But he was just looking for an excuse to use excessive force. He loved his job.
    “You can’t leave me like this. I got a right to medical care.”
    “You ain’t got a right to shit.”
    “This is bullshit, man. I want to file a complaint. I know my rights.”
    “Oh, you want to file a complaint?” O’Connor sneered at him. “Let me get you the forms.” He motioned for two other guards to assist him and drew his baton stunner—an 800,000 volt taser. Lightning on a stick.
    The guards gathered around the entrance. O’Connor unlocked the hatch to the holding cell and they stormed in, batons ready.
    O’Connor hovered over the inmate and jammed the baton into his belly. He zapped him with a charge. The end of the baton crackled and arced. This baton was more than an ordinary taser. It created a powerful electrical field that enveloped the subject in a brilliant, arcing aura. The inmate convulsed and vibrated uncontrollably. After a minute, O’Connor stopped zapping him. “Got any more complaints?”
    The inmate said nothing.
    “I can’t hear you.” O’Connor cupped his hand to his ear, as if straining to hear. “Oh, you’re not done yet?”
    O’Connor beat him mercilessly with the baton. The metal slapped against the inmate’s thick frame. Ribs cracked with each blow, as did the bones in the inmate’s forearms as he tried to shield himself.
    The two other guards kept the rest of the inmates at bay as the beating continued.
    “What’s that you say?” O’Connor asked. “Still haven’t had enough?”
    The other officers couldn’t resist getting in a few hits. Inmate 1109283 was a bruised and bloody pulp.
    Giles, and several other inmates, saw this as an opportunity. They tackled the two guards. Others rushed O’Connor.
    With fists like sledgehammers, Giles pummeled one of the guards and stripped away his baton. He jabbed the rod into the guards back and let the electricity fly. His body contorted and vibrated.
    Giles took the guard’s keys and his gun. Then he glared at Slade and marched toward her.
    The holding cell was pure mayhem. Screaming and yelling, hooting and hollering. Inmates were kicking and punching O’Connor, beating him beyond recognition. Everything he had doled out was coming back to him, three fold.
    It was a full on