CW: Shooting.

  10th June 2008The minibus that collected Cass from outside the prison gates had strong school trip vibes. The scabbed and scratched navy blue bodywork had rust nibbling at it, and was embzoned on the side with italicised capitals spelling out ‘PRISON REFORM SOCIETY’. Inside, a small group of offenders sat staring bleakly. Well, some of them were. There were a couple of men at the back who were animatedly commenting, apparently on her. That was dispiriting.

  She’d been met at the gate by one of what seemed to be just two guards, and as she stepped in was surprised to find that there were no restraints of any kind in the vehicle. What was to stop her from just leaving? Other than, presumably, the risk of recapture and reimprisonment with no hope of escape for even longer.

  She sighed again at her past self and sat in the st vacant seat for the journey to induction; so called. The whole thing had been clothed in euphemisms. But it’d been pretty clear that this group, whoever they were, specialised in picking up offenders who’d made a stupid enough mistake to get them caught, imprisoned and totally screw their future. Offer them an out, in exchange for some period of work, making use of the skills they’d formerly used for their own personal gain. She gnced around the bus. Interestingly it did seem to mostly be women.

  The loud conversation behind her had eventually dwindled with her ck of response allowing her plenty of time to continue dwelling on her own failings as a person. Her parents had been very clear about that throughout her adolescence. And when she’d been arrested they’d made clear they were done. They no longer considered her family. Not like her ‘sun shines out of his arse’ brother. Oh no. The screw-up daughter who screwed up and constantly brought shame on the family was gone. They’d probably told everyone she’d died rather than face the shame of admitting she’d ended up in prison.

  The sliding door stuck as it opened – the gap too narrow for anyone to get out. After several failed attempts, along with a lot of swearing, two more guards appeared. It wasn’t obvious whether they’d come from the manor house the bus’d stopped at, or whether they’d come from the grey car that had arrived with them. That crified the ‘only two guards’ thing - maybe that had been a test to see if they’d push their luck. The two new guards had guns which intermittently peaked out from under their jackets. Between them the four guards yanked the door with more and more force and finally it screeched past whatever was jamming it partly closed.

  Last in, Cass was first out, and followed the waved gesture to head towards the entrance, listening to the guards’ ongoing rant about how it was time they repced the bus, and if they could afford this pce they could get them equipment that worked. A cheerfully bnd corporate sign welcomed the new intake and pointed through the door, which she assumed was where she was meant to be going. Gncing back, she saw the small group traipsing behind her. The front door was propped open with a battered wooden sign with ‘Tickets’ and a gold arrow pointing inwards. Seemed like the kind of pce that would have once had tours. Taped onto the bottom was a piece of paper with ‘intake’ printed pinly on it. As her focus shifted from the weirdly ckadaisical mix of fancy corporate signage and taped up paper signs to the space she’d just entered, she gasped. The worn tiles in the massive entrance area were partially covered by thick rugs, hanging on the walls were pictures of a bunch of old, presumably dead, people. But here and there, perched on the furniture, were photos of various family gatherings, and children running around.

  The woman behind her was clearly as distracted and walked into Cass who’d stopped while trying to take it in. Cass jerked back to what she should be doing. She gnced around and saw, tacked conspicuously to a pilr, another piece of paper with an arrow directing them through. She set off again, and having trailed through a bunch of corridors filled with antiques that probably cost more than the minibus, she found herself in what she guessed might have been either a dining or ballroom? She didn’t really have any other ideas. Big, with a high ceiling. A small stage stood at one end with a projector dispying the same innocuous looking logo with the pin Prison Reform Group Intake text underneath again.

  Sitting next to the door was a sign-in sheet, which Cass ughed at while she completed it. They’d picked her up from prison and dropped her outside the door. It was pretty clear that she was here. But maybe not everyone came directly from prison? But hey, how many things had she got wrong in her life. A few rows of bags were sat next to the sign in sheet each with a name on it, and the instructions there said she should take ‘a welcome pack’, pin on her name badge and find a seat. She fshed back to her teen-self’s despair at the idea of growing up to be a career woman in an office job. Her desperate desire to avoid that fate. A fate she’d now ‘willingly’ signed up to for at least a decade.

  Most of the room was empty space, but there were several rows of chairs set up near the stage, nearly filled, but with enough empty seats for their group which appeared to be the st to arrive. The room was filled with a mix of banter with an edge of aggro behaviour from the back rows. Anxiety seemed to be washing over the entire group. Suddenly the lights dimmed as she made her way over, slipping into a chair next to a woman who briefly introduced herself as Sarah.

  The projection changed to show bnd people doing bndly happy things, with ‘family’, ‘commitment’, ‘team’, ‘faith’ and ‘security’ periodically embzoned on the screen. Music that didn’t seem to go anywhere pumped out from speakers stood next to the stage and after a while it switched to some kind of jingly theme with that same logo spshed on the screen. Finally a completely forgettable person came out and stood on stage. Cass held in a sigh as they started droning on about how they’d all been chosen for their skills. She knew full well she’d been chosen because she had little other choice. He was, disappointingly, still talking several minutes ter about how this would be a new beginning for them all, but that it was a commitment and that they needed them to understand the depth of that commitment. She began to wish she’d just stayed in prison.

  The day dragged on and on and she still wasn’t really any clearer on what they expected of her other than to use the skills she’d used to, well, work things out - things that she should not reasonably have been able to deduce, apparently. It’d started with a bit of social engineering. First free tickets for events, then realising she could use those same skills to get information which she could sell for cold hard cash. Then she’d realised there was more money in connecting the dots for people who didn’t seem to be able to do it for themselves. They’d just click in her brain, pieces sliding into pce, connections glowing like hot metal from one person to another.

  Unfortunately she’d worked out some connections that were meant to be very secret, and connections which some old-money types felt would be better kept under wraps. Easier to do if the person who’d done that couldn’t connect dots anymore. She supposed she should be grateful they’d just gone with getting one of their paid off coppers to grab her, rather than killing her. But after the judge used his discretion to apply an incredibly hefty sentence on her - and her having no real means to appeal, she strongly suspected this ‘job’ was actually the endgame. But it was that or a dead-end future working incredibly low-wage jobs that might be avaible when she eventually did get out, and this seemed like a better choice. It was a choice, but still a shit one.

  Finally they broke for coffee, which gave her a chance to chat with Sarah. She seemed, much like her, to have made some unfortunate choices and ironically had met with the same harsh judge. Contempting that too much made Cass’ head hurt from the urge to go full on conspiracy theory, but she just didn’t have the mental space right now to think about it. And anyway, apparently it was time for more exciting introductory talk.

  Having zoned out for a while, she snapped back at the sound of some jeers from the small audience behind her. Someone - a slightly built young man - was stood shouting about how he didn’t sign up to give his whole life to some fucker.

  The contrast between the corporate team building vibe being pyed out on stage and the screaming anger being unleashed behind her was unsettling. Especially given the uneasy way the group had been shifting as at least some of them had realised that there was a very real possibility that this was the only future they’d have.

  The seemingly characterless entity on stage smiled, in a way so entirely predatory that Cass had to suppress an urge to run, before inviting the screaming man up to the front. It took the appearance of guards at the doors before the red-head made his way forward and up onto the small stage. All the while Cass felt the tension in the room growing. The suit paused for a moment to gnce at the young man’s name tag. “Josh, is it?”

  “Yeah, what of it?” the man angrily spat back.

  “So, what seems to be the problem? Did you not read your contract before signing it?” His voice was completely disinterested, apparently terribly bored.

  Josh’s face flushed red as he stared down the man. “You said I’d be doing thi…”

  An incredibly loud crack followed by a muffled wet thud and screaming. The ringing in Cass’s ears took forever to go away, but when it did it just gave way to screaming. A lot of screaming. Cass was shocked to discover that she was apparently among the source of the screams.

  Most of it, though, came from Josh whose leg was now bleeding everywhere. There was an acrid smell creeping through the air and Cass felt like her heart had stopped beating. She felt rooted to her chair as two men walked out from the side doors, picked up the now wailing Josh who was just repeatedly screaming “You shot me!?” and unceremoniously dragged him out. The previously forgettable man on stage, whose face was now etched into her memory, lifted a walkie-talkie up and said “If he stops bleeding, save him for Jackson. He has uses for boys like that, apparently. If they’re pretty enough, anyway.”

  It was said quietly - but not quietly enough for the microphone not to pick up and broadcast to the room, something which he clearly didn’t care about. Cass briefly wondered what that meant. But before she could get into that thought she was interrupted by him turning back and addressing the group. “Well, thank you to Josh for enabling me to crify the terms of the agreement you all signed.” He paused, as though expecting some kind of approval from the group. After a moment’s uncomfortable silence he shrugged, smiled that predatory smile again. “Shall we continue? I think it’s time for some team-building. This is Reverend Jackson from the New Hope Evangelical Church in Texas. I’ll let him introduce himself, but he’ll be running the next activity.”

  He turned and stepped into the wings, just as the pastor, adorned with an actual cowboy hat, walked out. Cass shrank into her chair. What the fuck had she got herself into?