I Like It Rough

“Great,” I said, unemphatically. “A roommate.”

“Well good morning to you,” the man said in an accent I wasn’t familiar with, taking a quick peek at my lapels. “…Colonel. Arch Lieutenant Davius.”

“Colonel will do,” I answered back gruffly, knowing full well that SAINT was printed on the right breast of my jumpsuit. He seemed to get the hint.

“Will do, Colonel,” he responded with a slight bow of the head as I stepped into the cell, my escort shutting the cell door behind me.

I watched the guard leave before I turned back to Davius. “Wish I could say this was my first time.”

Davius smiled mischievously. “A trouble maker, are ya?”

We made our traditional prison introductions and queries: What’re you in for? How long? Who gets top bunk? We talked for a few hours, chatting about home, what we had done when we were ‘on the outside,’ and what we’d do after we got out. I could have played the mysterious silent type, but I’d been keeping to myself for too long. Plus, if you can’t be yourself in prison, where can you?

It soon came to be lunch time and we, the entire cell block, were marched to the mess hall. It was a large circular room with a lunch line along a length of the wall where whatever happened to be on the menu that day was unceremoniously plopped onto your tray and you dutifully slid over to the next server until you reached the end and sat yourself down.

I had just sat myself down when I felt a tapping on my shoulder.

“Tribunus Colonel Raphael Saint?” a thick voice asked from behind me.

I started to turn around. “Yeah, who’s –“

What I felt next could only be described as a sledgehammer. It felt someone had taken careful aim and swung a sledgehammer, striking me perfectly in the side of the face as I turned to see who was bothering me. I felt my head bounce of the table, mercifully missing my tray, and the next thing I knew I was staring up at the ceiling from the cold metal floor.

I coughed and spit to the side, clearing my mouth of the blood that I had started to feel trickle in. “Well, you’ve got my full attention.”

“I hear you like to tussle.” The man was a mountain of Amarrian muscle, and he didn’t look too happy to see me.

“I’ve been known to get into a few scrapes,” I replied, getting to my feet. He was a good foot taller than I was. “Usually for fun.”

In a flash he closed the distance between us and got me with his right hook again. It hit with such force that I spun about, and I had to throw my arms out to brace myself against the table behind me to prevent spinning all the way to the ground. I coughed out a fresh batch of scarlet and after catching my breath for a second, stood back up and turned to face him.

“Nice hook,” I offered. He may be trying to ruin my good looks, but I had to give respect where it was due. I wiped the bit of blood dribbling from my mouth and smiled. I’d always heard jokes about killing someone your first day in prison, but I didn’t think that it’d be in self-defense. Confident in my speed, I took a quick step forward to close the distance and saw him pull his fist back to launch a counter.

--

I awoke to the sight of a bed above me, quickly realizing through the haze in my head that I was back in my cell. A small clicking sound to my left alerted me that I wasn’t alone. I looked over to see Davius sitting on the floor, absently playing with a couple of small rocks as he stared out of the bars and into the hall. The bed creaked beneath my movement and he snapped his attention to me.

“Ah, so you’re awake now, Colonel.” He grinned slyly at me.

I looked at him for a second, my head pounding. “What happened?” I groaned in a rasp, each word painfully leaving my throat.

“You don’t remember? Sounds like we shouldn’t have let you sleep,” Davius chuckled.

“What. Happened.”

“You were in a fight with that lummox from the mess hall.” His words were playful, as if he found it humorous.

I tried to remember the fight, tried to put memories with each injury I could feel. Nothing. The last thing I remembered was taking a shower that morning. “I win?”

Davius laughed. “Do you feel like you won, Colonel?”

“Maybe,” I grunted, looking back up at the bunk above me. “I at least broke his arm or such, right?”

Davius laughed out loud again. “Break his arm? You hardly touched the bloke. He gave you a right thrashing, he did. You ever been in a fight before?”

I rolled my head to the side again, fixing him with an unamused stare. “Of course, maybe a hundred. Won a couple of them, too.” It hurt to talk and I tried to raise an arm to rub my throat, but found my right arm practically dead, letting it fall back down the few inches I had managed to raise it.

“Well you didn’t win this one, that’s for true. Wasn’t a fight at all, really. Looked more of a grown man beating on a petulant child.” Davius cracked a wry smile.

“Details.” I demanded, wanting to use my experience in brawls to assess my wounds, to get an idea of what caused each sharp pain and the all-over ache.

“Well, first he threw that punch that spun you about. You charged back in with this self-assured smug look on your face and that’s when he broke your nose. He picked you up off the floor and then threw you into a table. Messed your arm up real good from what I could see. When he went to go retrieve you from there, I think you threw a token punch. Not sure if that connected or not, but he didn’t budge none. Picked you up by the neck next, hand ‘round your throat. Took his time to slap you ‘round a bit more after that. Should I keep going?”

“No,” I said, wanting to hear no more. Sounded like, and definitely felt like, this guy had kicked my ass something fierce. “What started the fight?”

“No idea, Colonel. Maybe you just have a reputation I haven’t heard yet,” Davius said with a slight shrug.

“Mrrgg, more like a friend of the Commodore. I’m sure he just wanted his revenge. By the sound of it, he got it.” I groaned again as I tried to roll over onto my side, but returned to lying on my back, deciding that was good enough. I laughed slightly, the aches and pain bringing back memories of my pre-capsuleer days. God, it had been forever since I’d been in a good fight, and I’d had two in the past week. Things were starting to look up.