Spy-x-War Showdown
Chapter 105 - 104: The Lackey

Chapter 105: Chapter 104: The Lackey

When Yang Yi came out of solitary confinement, he didn’t look dispirited, but instead, he seemed more vigorous than ever.

He had eaten well, slept soundly, exercised thoroughly, and even had magazines to read—conditions that were much more comfortable than in his own cell.

This time Yang Yi was sent directly back to his own cell. Seeing Yang Yi enter, Zhang Yong yawned and said lazily, "Back already, was solitary confinement comfortable for you?"

"Comfortable, extremely comfortable."

Zhang Yong took it as self-mockery. He waved his hand and said, "I told you to go steal food, I didn’t tell you to make such a big scene though. Rubber bullets don’t feel too good, do they?"

If there was anything that truly pained Yang Yi these past few days, it would be the pain brought by the rubber bullets. Zhang Yong hadn’t mentioned it, but as soon as he did, Yang Yi immediately felt the pain where the rubber bullets had hit.

"Damn it hurts, hurts like hell."

Yang Yi took off his shirt to look, and his chest was still a bruised purple, the hematoma wasn’t going to fade quickly, and it hurt at the slightest touch.

After putting his shirt back on, Yang Yi pulled out two magazines from his pants and tossed them to Zhang Yong, saying, "Here, some good stuff."

"Whoa, not bad. Even I don’t get this treatment."

Yang Yi sat on the bed. He hesitated whether to tell Zhang Yong about having dealt with Owen but after a brief hesitation, he decided to go ahead and tell him.

"There’s something, I’ve taken care of Owen."

"Hmm? What do you mean by ’taken care of’?"

"One hundred thousand US dollars."

"That’s too expensive, you overpaid. You could have settled it for just ten thousand, but you spent one hundred thousand. Are you just too rich or what, stupid?"

"For one year."

"Ah, for one year, that’s somewhat better, but still expensive. You should have offered at most thirty thousand. This is prison, inmates fighting is too common, even death doesn’t raise too much concern. Of course, if people are dying all the time, nobody can stand that, but you didn’t need to kill anyone, so one hundred thousand is definitely still too much."

Yang Yi replied helplessly, "All right, I did start the bidding too high, inexperienced as I am. Just opened my mouth and offered twenty thousand dollars. One hundred thousand, damn, such a loss."

Zhang Yong shifted his gaze from the magazine, looked at Yang Yi and said, "Consider it paying for experience."

Yang Yi gave a bitter laugh and said, "Fine, can you help me find a phone? I want to make a call."

"You could’ve just asked Owen for a phone, why come back to me?"

"I need to call the captain, something more confidential."

"Got it, I’ll get you one tomorrow."

Zhang Yong went back to flipping through the magazine, and Yang Yi couldn’t resist saying, "Why not today, no exercise?"

"You go exercise by yourself, I’m not joining you. I’m reading a magazine. Tomorrow you can continue picking fights, just don’t break any arms or inflict serious injuries. You need control, the guards sometimes ignore ordinary fights, as long as the prisoners you beat don’t snitch on you, there’s no problem. But don’t fight in the mess hall, do it during yard time."

Yang Yi immediately affirmed with full confidence, "Right, I’ll fight during yard time, that’s settled then."

"Don’t forget to keep begging for food."

"Damn it, begging? Can’t you phrase it a bit nicer?"

"It’s not begging?"

"You say stealing food could get you killed, but I’m not a beggar looking for handouts," Yang Yi replied.

"Beggars don’t ask for food nowadays, they want money."

"Are you bored or something?"

Yang Yi had spent three days in solitary confinement and actually missed Zhang Yong a bit. Now that he was back, with nothing else to do, chatting with Zhang Yong felt pretty good.

Being in solitary for three days meant exactly that, so Yang Yi returned to his cell just after lunchtime, meaning he still had dinner to look forward to, and perhaps he could find some trouble during the mealtime. However, this time he couldn’t go breaking someone’s arm again; dealing with it would be too much trouble for Owen.

After chatting with Zhang Yong all afternoon, Yang Yi set off for dinner feeling revitalized.

Upon arriving at the cafeteria, Zhang Yong went off to find his own place to sit, while Yang Yi, holding a tray, stood by the queue.

This time, people lined up beside Yang Yi with their trays again, but now, no one bared their teeth at him: two Latinos and one Caucasian. They were there to collect food for their bosses, but Yang Yi now had the right to collect food alongside them.

This was the power he had fought for.

The food chain in prison was pretty much fixed; every gang had its steady source of food. Yang Yi had to either usurp another gang’s role or carve out a new source for himself.

Now having taken down an African-American gang, the food originally allotted to that gang naturally fell into Yang Yi’s hands. It was just like gangs fighting over territory.

An African-American man approached Yang Yi and dutifully handed over the choicest parts of the food from his tray. To him, it didn’t matter who he gave it to; he wouldn’t be the one missing out.

A little while later, another African-American transferred his food to Yang Yi.

This saved a lot of trouble; Yang Yi was quite pleased. Just then, a hulking, fierce-looking Mexican man carrying a tray walked over.

This Mexican guy had gathered a few underlings; he was the type with some clout who wouldn’t be easily bullied but also lacked the backing of an actual gang. Most notably, he had once insulted Yang Yi.

"Hey, you!"

Yang Yi extended his hand and motioned to the Mexican man with a crook of his finger, then he said in a deep voice, "Give me your food!"

Yang Yi thought it was time for a fight, but to his surprise, the Mexican took one glance at him, obediently placed the food from his tray on to Yang Yi’s, then walked away with his head bowed, without saying a word.

Yang Yi was left a little astonished, thinking he’d have to beat the man to earn his respect.

Right then, a Caucasian man walked up to Yang Yi. After placing the contents of his plate onto Yang Yi’s, he gave a groveling smile and said, "Hello, hello."

One does not hit a smiling face, so Yang Yi, with a straight face, asked, "What is it?"

The Caucasian took out two packs of cigarettes, offering them with a hopeful look, "These are for you. Can I follow you? I know the ropes. It’s a hassle for you to hold your own tray here. I can do things for you."

Yang Yi suddenly realized that someone was looking to pledge allegiance to him.

"Hmm, what’s your name, and what did you get in for?"

"My name’s Ben. Theft, robbery, assault—I was sentenced to fifteen years and have already served six."

Yang Yi nodded, then declared sternly, "From now on, I’ve got you covered. Be smart about your work."

Ben nodded repeatedly, beaming, "Thank you, boss. Thank you, boss."

Yang Yi held his tray while Ben, grinning from ear to ear, slipped the two packs of cigarettes into Yang Yi’s pocket, then cheerfully said, "You sit down, boss. This kind of thing? Of course, I should do it."

Yang Yi felt very pleased inside. Now, he too had lackeys to do his bidding. It was a very pleasant feeling, extremely so.