AC Fic: Behind Bars [1/?]
So, quite some time ago, I was the one who provided the ridiculously long fill for the prison AU request on the infamous AC kinkmeme. I've decided to start x-posting it here, possibly with the bits I removed to make it shorter. Expect minor changes (eg. spelling/editing corrections, etc)
Leonardo held his head high as he was marched down the prison corridor. Several prisoners came to the doors of their cells, leering at the new inmate. Several muttered about fresh meat, and Leonardo fought the urge to shiver in fear. This was horrible. He hadn’t even done anything. A fellow artist had framed for art theft out of petty jealousy: now Leonardo would be in prison for the next five years. Merda, why hadn’t he listened to his mother? Why hadn’t he got a real job, one that required a university degree and no personality? It may have been stifling, but at least he wouldn’t be in prison.
"Who gets pretty boy?" one of the prisoners jeered, leaning against the bars of his cell.
“The new prisoner is going to Cell 1138,” the guard replied sharply, with a hint of a smirk to his voice. A chorus of ‘ooohs’ went around the prison as various inmates started whispering to each other. Despite his bravado, Leonardo couldn’t help but let out a tiny whimper when he heard someone claim he wouldn’t last five minutes. He wanted out. Now. He didn’t want to have to hear the inmates taking bets on how long he would survive. He didn’t want to hear even the guards laughing along with them. He wanted to go home.
“Here we are,” the second guard said, halting outside one of the cells. Leonardo peered inside, wondering if he would be able to see why he supposedly wouldn’t last five minutes. A toilet was in one corner, a set of bunk beds in the other. For prison beds, he thought they looked quite comfortable. A small desk with two chairs was near the back of the room. There was a tiny barred window in the far wall, just big enough to let in a small square of striped light. The light was currently shining on a bench, where his new cellmate was sitting.
Despite what everyone was saying, Leonardo didn’t think he looked all that bad. A white scar marred full lips, and brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. In any other situation, Leonardo might have called the man handsome. Right now, he called him terrifying. The man watched him silently, not so much as batting an eyebrow at his entrance. The door squeaked shut behind him, and Leonardo felt his heart sink into the ground. This was it. There would be no miraculous rescue. He was stuck here for the next five years.
“Your name.”
“Sorry?” Leonardo stuttered, turning to face his companion. Oh God, he was standing up. The man had an Italian accent and he was standing up and he was going to kill him, he just knew it.
“Your name. What is it?”
“Leonardo,” he replied quickly, stumbling over his own name. Even though the man’s words had been a question, they hadn’t sounded like one. They had been more of an order. The stranger made a small ‘hmph’ noise, as though the name Leonardo was just barely satisfying, before stalking over to where Leonardo was. It took every iota of willpower in Leonardo’s body not to retreat to cower against the wall as the man stepped intimidatingly close.
“Why are you here, Leonardo?”
“Theft,” he whispered, quaking as the man picked up a strand of his blonde-brown hair. A small smile played on the man’s lips, vaguely amused and almost affectionate. “Why - I mean, what about you?”
There was a pause, where deep brown eyes caught his, where Leonardo thought he had made some sort of mistake. Perhaps he had broken some kind of prison etiquette. Perhaps his new cell mate didn’t like to talk about his past. Perhaps he was just an angry person. Either way, Leonardo was convinced he was going to die.
“I kill people.”
“Oh,” Leonardo said, as realisation sank in: then, “Oh!” again. The murderer had said people, as in plural, as in multiple. No wonder the other prisoners had said Leonardo wouldn’t last five minutes. Worse, he had used the present tense, ‘kill’. He was probably going to end up as his latest victim. The man turned away abruptly, turning back to his seat.
“I take the top bunk. Stay close to me whenever we leave the cell. Do everything I say, and you might make it out of here in one piece.”
“Ah... yes...” Leonardo agreed, not really in a position to say anything else. He slunk over to his bed, unsure whether or not he was being threatened. The man’s tone didn’t sound threatening, though you could never be sure. If anything, he sounded protective of Leonardo.
“One more thing. Call me Ezio.”
Leonardo held his head high as he was marched down the prison corridor. Several prisoners came to the doors of their cells, leering at the new inmate. Several muttered about fresh meat, and Leonardo fought the urge to shiver in fear. This was horrible. He hadn’t even done anything. A fellow artist had framed for art theft out of petty jealousy: now Leonardo would be in prison for the next five years. Merda, why hadn’t he listened to his mother? Why hadn’t he got a real job, one that required a university degree and no personality? It may have been stifling, but at least he wouldn’t be in prison.
"Who gets pretty boy?" one of the prisoners jeered, leaning against the bars of his cell.
“The new prisoner is going to Cell 1138,” the guard replied sharply, with a hint of a smirk to his voice. A chorus of ‘ooohs’ went around the prison as various inmates started whispering to each other. Despite his bravado, Leonardo couldn’t help but let out a tiny whimper when he heard someone claim he wouldn’t last five minutes. He wanted out. Now. He didn’t want to have to hear the inmates taking bets on how long he would survive. He didn’t want to hear even the guards laughing along with them. He wanted to go home.
“Here we are,” the second guard said, halting outside one of the cells. Leonardo peered inside, wondering if he would be able to see why he supposedly wouldn’t last five minutes. A toilet was in one corner, a set of bunk beds in the other. For prison beds, he thought they looked quite comfortable. A small desk with two chairs was near the back of the room. There was a tiny barred window in the far wall, just big enough to let in a small square of striped light. The light was currently shining on a bench, where his new cellmate was sitting.
Despite what everyone was saying, Leonardo didn’t think he looked all that bad. A white scar marred full lips, and brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. In any other situation, Leonardo might have called the man handsome. Right now, he called him terrifying. The man watched him silently, not so much as batting an eyebrow at his entrance. The door squeaked shut behind him, and Leonardo felt his heart sink into the ground. This was it. There would be no miraculous rescue. He was stuck here for the next five years.
“Your name.”
“Sorry?” Leonardo stuttered, turning to face his companion. Oh God, he was standing up. The man had an Italian accent and he was standing up and he was going to kill him, he just knew it.
“Your name. What is it?”
“Leonardo,” he replied quickly, stumbling over his own name. Even though the man’s words had been a question, they hadn’t sounded like one. They had been more of an order. The stranger made a small ‘hmph’ noise, as though the name Leonardo was just barely satisfying, before stalking over to where Leonardo was. It took every iota of willpower in Leonardo’s body not to retreat to cower against the wall as the man stepped intimidatingly close.
“Why are you here, Leonardo?”
“Theft,” he whispered, quaking as the man picked up a strand of his blonde-brown hair. A small smile played on the man’s lips, vaguely amused and almost affectionate. “Why - I mean, what about you?”
There was a pause, where deep brown eyes caught his, where Leonardo thought he had made some sort of mistake. Perhaps he had broken some kind of prison etiquette. Perhaps his new cell mate didn’t like to talk about his past. Perhaps he was just an angry person. Either way, Leonardo was convinced he was going to die.
“I kill people.”
“Oh,” Leonardo said, as realisation sank in: then, “Oh!” again. The murderer had said people, as in plural, as in multiple. No wonder the other prisoners had said Leonardo wouldn’t last five minutes. Worse, he had used the present tense, ‘kill’. He was probably going to end up as his latest victim. The man turned away abruptly, turning back to his seat.
“I take the top bunk. Stay close to me whenever we leave the cell. Do everything I say, and you might make it out of here in one piece.”
“Ah... yes...” Leonardo agreed, not really in a position to say anything else. He slunk over to his bed, unsure whether or not he was being threatened. The man’s tone didn’t sound threatening, though you could never be sure. If anything, he sounded protective of Leonardo.
“One more thing. Call me Ezio.”