EXT. CROWLEY BAY PRISON - MORNING
PAN: ACROSS THE BUILDING
CROWLEY BAY PRISON is a large, grey building surrounded by intimidatingly tall, barb-wired fences, scraggly vegetation and various small reptiles that bake themselves under the heavy sun. The many windows are all barred, and the security is smothering. GUARDS stand at every corner.
CUT TO: INT. CROWLEY BAY PRISON CAFETERIA
Alex is sitting alone at a table at the back of the room. He pokes at the green mush on his plate and frowns thoughtfully.
Now is this pureed broccoli or the cook's mucus?
In the background, we hear a sneezing fit coming from the direction of the kitchen. Alex pulls a face and pushes his plate away with the back of his hand.
If you want to survive in this place, I'd eat to keep my strength up.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he snaps:
What are you, this shithole's dormant mother hen?
The guy laughs loudly, and Alex finally lifts his eyes to take in his appearance. He sounds big, and even presuming that, Alex is still shocked at the sight of him. He wasn't just big, he was body-builder huge, with messy blonde hair and light brown eyes.
Still chuckling, the guy pulls back a chair and plants himself directly in front of Alex. He folds his arms on the able, looking a lot like an insane cross between some Mafia assassin and the Hulk.
I'm glad I got to you first. Speak like that to any other dude here, and you'd have been living with a few less teeth by light's out.
Alex doesn't answer, and the guy quickly reaches forward to snatch up a small tub of PUDDING.
You don't mind, do you? Packaged food's like a roast dinner in this place.
Alex waves a hand in irritation and pushes his chair back, though he doesn't leave. The guy opens the pudding and takes his sweet time licking the lid clean. Alex pulls a face and drops his gaze to the floor.
So, Newbie, what kind of criminal mastermind are you? Must've been pretty evil to score a joint like this.
FOUR YEARS AGO...
NEW YORK CITY - SERVICE STATION - NIGHT
An elderly ASIAN MAN is working the cashier. He is small with a receding hairline and thick, goggle-like black glasses. Just then, a gun is suddenly pressing into his temple and a small sack is thrust into his hands.
Don't move. Empty the register.
The man's forehead wrinkles. Alex thinks he might not understand English.
(points at man) You. (points at cash register) Give me. (taps chest) All you money. No scream, no police (moves hands in an obvious cutting motion).
Why you talking like that? I was just confused with what you said. Do you want me to not move or give you money? Can't do both, fool.
Alex is quiet for a moment.
Just shut up and give me the money.
The old man shakes his head, muttering something in his native tongue as he opens the register.
How much you want?
I can't believe this shit. Don't you understand, Jackie Chan? I'm robbing you. That means, all your money, now, or I blow your brains out.
Alex sighs and applies more pressure to the gun at his head.
Yes, Jackie Chan. Now hurry the hell up.
The man's face is suddenly bright red, his face contorting in fury. Alex's head pulls back reflexively.
Hey... you okay, dude?
Me not Jackie Chan! He Chinese! Me Vietnamese! Totally different!
The man catches Alex off guard when he knocks the gun from his hands. It goes sliding a few feet away. Alex attempts to get it, but the man suddenly jumps on his back and starts choking him from behind.
I no Chinese! I kill you bastard!
(trying to pry the man's hands off his throat)
This sonofabitch is crazy! Heeeelp! Police!
END OF FLASHBACK
God help me, I was almost killed by an asian dwarf.
Uh, anyway, no, I'm not really a mastermind. I just have a habit of picking things up, that's all.
The guy grins as he scoops the remainder of pudding into his mouth.
A street rat. Wow. We haven't had one of those in a while. It's all murderers, pimps and drug dealers around here these days.
The guy tosses the empty pudding cup onto Alex's abandoned lunch tray and offers his hand.
I'm Christopher Westerfield the Second- Kit.
Alex warily takes Kit's hand and gives it a light shake before dropping it immediately.
You mean, like the Hurricane?
Alex rolls his eyes and gets to his feet.
Aw, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Newbie. C'mon, let's chat. Trust me; it pays to have friends here.
Yeah, I'd figure that from all prison movies I've seen. By the by, I'm not becoming anybody's fuck buddy.
Kit laughs, and it sounds a lot like a roaring bear. Reluctantly, Alex returns to his seat.
Ah, don't worry, you won't have to. The top dogs around here, see, they have a specific type.
Aw, you know. The bullies. The real assholes, even by prison standards. That's them over there.
Kit tilts his chin towards a table on the opposite sides of the room, were a group of incredibly lethal looking thugs sat, watching the entire cafeteria. Alex stares, and he tries valiantly to keep himself from crying like a little girl.
Holy shit. Those boys make Kit look miniscule.
See, that one in the middle, with the long, black hair? That's Drac, short for Dracula. No one knows his real name, but he sure looks like he'd rip his teeth into ya, don't he?
Alex stares at the leader and feels a heavy sheet of dread begin to fall over him.
Oh no, it couldn't be...
As if he could hear them, the leader's head snaps in their direction. Kit hastily looks down, but Alex is caught in his cold stare. A flash of recognition sparks in Drac's dark gaze, and Alex lets out a tiny cry of fear, tearing his eyes away.
I'm fucking dead.