You what?" Bird questioned, looking me in the eyes now that I was of a height with him, despite being half his age.
"I need more books mi amigo, specifically large books that take time to read, though books with technical knowledge would be much appreciated." My kind but flat reply did not seem to smooth over his confusion, merely enhance it further... especially since I was curling a seventy-pound dumbbell without much effort.
"I-... but you-... wha-... buh?" Bird was normally far more eloquent than this, though to be fair, his expectations involving me had been exceed several times during my isolation.
"I've already smuggled in a hundred books to the prison library, as you requested, and on top of that the library isn't exactly small... how much more could you possibly need?"
It has been over a month since my release from The Hole, and my plans had been proceeding as expected: Zombie had been keeping an eye on both the medical staff and several guards, Trogg had been keeping his "ear to the ground" when it came to prisoners with skills that I had specifically outlined as necessary, and Bird had been gathering information about both the prison and the rest of the country, while also smuggling-in certain items that I had requested over the past five years of isolation.
One of those had been books... lots and lots of books.
With my Bane-Brain™, I was able to read and retain information at an almost superhuman rate, so much so that I had read through the entire works of Shakespeare and Tolkien in the past thirty-six hours, and had perfectly memorized their contents to the point that I could recite them by punctuation marks.
"My friend, I estimate that, not counting your recent additions, there are only 3,000 books contained within the library, only 2,348 of which are accessible by prisoners... and I read an average of five books per day, how long do you think it would take me to consume the entirety of the library's contents?" My mildly amused question seems to put him on edge, possibly due to my muscles or my resting-bitch-face, but a small smirk over my shoulder seems to reassure him that it was more dry humor.
"Well..." he pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts, before continuing in a much lower tone, "Am I to move books upward in terms of priority on The List?"
"No." I respond immediately, The List had been organized by priority: most-to-least important, and with it would be the means from which I would make my escape from this retched wolf's cage. I had spent two years compiling everything in just such a way as to avoid any overt notice from either the guards, citizens, or even other prisoners beyond a trusted few.
I put down the dumbbells and walk over to Bird, who is standing the door to my cell with the seriousness of a soldier told to hold his post.
"The List was made for a reason, and the items on it are of paramount collection if we are to emancipate ourselves of this place any time soon... the books are of secondary concern that will come after we are free." Bird looks ready to point out the notoriety some of the items on that list would bring him, and by extension me, so I raise a hand to stop him.
"I understand your concerns my friend, but please trust in me that I will find some capable hands to assist you when I have established a little more... familiarity with the maps you and Zombie provided me of our current abode. However, I do hope you'll provide those remaining satellite-phones within the month, as they are quite a linchpin to my current plans."
Bird gave a solemn nod, before dismissing himself to go such.
I noticed that.
My friend's behavior that is... I do truly consider them my friends (especially since I'm technically the same age as Bird), even if there is a certain power-dynamic in our friendship, but as my plans have begun to accelerate they've become less jovial and less at-ease.
A small price I have to pay I suppose? The price of freedom from these walls?
I turn and look over at the small papers upon my bed. Photocopied from the original works despite the current date being 1993, the originals having been emailed to Zombie from a hospital computer. DC Earths really are strange when you think about it, the date is the Late-80's/Early-90's but the technology is easily on-par with the Late-90's or Early-2000's... but the style was ultimately the same as the previous era? I looked at the Santa Prisca newspaper recently and it was as if the 80's style was only recently ending, despite the date and tech-advancements... did that mean Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne were "90's-kids" since I was several years older than both?
I could only hope that my being here didn't muck with things enough that fashion from either the 80's or 90's stuck around any more than it did in my reality... and especially not popular aesthetics for the superheroes
Surely, god wouldn't be so cruel to me? Especially when I plan to actually do some good for this horror-show of a universe?
Oh who am I kidding? Mullets and too many leather-jackets are the least of my problems right now.
But... problems exist to be rectified.
And with the schematics to most of the prison's highly advanced security systems in my hands, there seems to be quite a bit I can... break to take my mind off it.
I won't deny that a slightly cruel smile spread across my face, but it's not like anyone within these walls would ever tell.
*****
It has been nearly three months since my release from solitary, and my plans have been proceeding as I projected with very few halts in efficiency.
I set down the book of Latin scriptures and wards kindly donated to me by Father Orestes, who visited/educated Bane when he was a child, and looked to the large digital clock inlaid into the wall above B-block's main door.
Five minutes until midnight, just enough time to arrive in dramatic fashion.
I stand up and make my way to my cell door, and slide it open to find it unlocked, with a guard standing at attention waiting nearby.
The poor boy couldn't be a few years older than me, and was at least a foot shorter and two-hundred pounds lighter. Though I was a prisoner he snapped off a sharp salute, before stepping in front of me and "leading" me towards my destination.
One of the main ways that the High-Junta kept their control so firm was through simple bribes and threats, but when on an island with stockpiles from World War Two and the Cold War is left to it's own devices it's hard to keep coups from happening... especially to already corrupt governments.
The way Santa Prisca kept it's delicate balance, while maintaining military strength enough to remain as their own sovereign nation, was in how they distributed the population.
The civilians were herded and cowed by hired thugs and criminals that the members of the High-Junta hired, while General Garza (one of the High-Junta) bribed and threatened the more easily controlled members into doing what El-Presidente (the leader) wanted, El-Jefe/Warden received the older soldiers who couldn't be bribed or threatened and the young idealists who wanted to change things.
Pena Duro had enough guards with military training, to fight on equal ground with most developed nations, but they were sent to the prison to serve as an example... much like myself.
Pena Duro was (aside from a three-lane bridge) an island unto itself, and even worse was almost entirely under the one of five mountains on the islands. Only the Warden and his most trusted Captains ever left the prison, usually by helicopter, and very few ever received the ability to speak with their loved ones or to even visit home, some of the guards hadn't seen their families in longer stretches of time than some prisoners had been here.
In Pena Duro, everyone is a prisoner, no matter what side of the bars you're on...and I gladly used that to my advantage.
All it took was a few well placed bribes of contact with their families, and me pointing out that the entire country was being held hostage by criminals and cut-throats like the rest of us, to convince a majority of the guards within the prison to do as I say.
As I walk through the empty halls I look and see multiple cameras that should be moving and displaying a solid green light, instead they sit dead-still with a blinking red light to mark them as inactive, just as I requested. I arrive to the cafeteria, just in time to interrupt someone asking a question that was likely asking who had arranged this meeting, in appropriately dramatic fashion with a small squad of guards trailing behind me.
The table was long, with prisoners sitting down it's length on either side, with a total of sixty people in attendance not counting the guards within my employ or my three Lieutenants.
The room was silent as I made my way to the head of the table and sat down. Whether they were silent from surprise or deference didn't matter, only that they hear my words, and obey them as they would a declaration from the gods.
"I will not waste our time being coy, we all know why we are are here, at this time and in this place. I am going to overthrow the Warden, violently if needed, and you all are going to help do so, in exchange for a fair reward when I say it's done." The silence that followed was deafening, and while some seemed shocked, a majority seemed to at least be unsurprised at worst and eager at best... good.
"The folders that Bird is currently passing out are tailored to each of you and your skills or your command of others, they have been carefully considered for each of you, so don't allow anyone else to read them. The guards under my command have already been briefed, and when the time comes will alter their uniforms to signify their allegiance with us, so avoid causing any extra trouble for them beyond the specific situations written on your plans, do not test my patience on that point."
By this point, each of the people at the table have begun flipping through their thin but detailed files, and I can tell by the many raising eyebrows that my level of detail and "legwork" was far higher than they expected, but nobody raised any objections, so I didn't much care either way.
I waved my hand, and Trogg began to pass out the military-grade satellite-phones to everyone who had any influence left with the outside world.
"Make your calls, you each have one hour, to call in as many favors that are owed to you as possible, after which my Lieutenants will destroy the phones and files before any of you leave. The specific favors needed are marked down on your papers, but do understand, any debts you might incur from these favors are yours alone to clear, though your rewards may prove sufficient in that event... any questions?"
I watched each of them carefully, their body-language was like reading plain text stamped across their faces, thanks to Bane's analytical skills and my stint in solitary confinement. I noticed that my Lieutenants were trying to be nonchalant about everything, but the tension was coiling them like springs, and the guards in the room were keeping a nervous eye upon everyone in the room.
"Just one." The man who spoke was an American, a mercenary who had supposedly revealed a huge scandal about a U.S. governor that had been encouraging numerous proxy wars to increase PMC budgets that he had secret ownership of. He was of average height, but his build and body-language suggested extensive military training and combat experience, while having long dark hair and classically handsome features. His companion nodded silently next to him, a bald giant of a man, with a massive facial-scar running down from his brow to his chin, his eyes constantly keeping tabs on the guards and their weapons.
recognized these men from my Earth. Salem and Rios from the Army of Two game franchise: former Special Forces that had gone into the private sector after being disillusioned with the way governments threw lives aside like disposable equipment, and after discovering that their former boss was working with a corrupt government official declared a two-man-war against one of the largest PMCs in the world.
From what Bird was able to gather, they had somehow managed to assault their former HQ with the help of several fellow employees and an unnamed government agent who I could only assume was Amanda Waller, but as of last year had been caught trying to rescue hostages in Bialya and had been shipped to Pena Duro with a large check marked by the man who ruled before the villain Queen Bee (though only I was aware of her likely rising to power in the next few years) with the understanding that both men would be kept until they died... or accepted the "generous" employment offer from El-Presidente.
Seeing them in flesh and blood was somewhat surreal for me, but my resting-bitch-face hid my feelings well, and having two men with the skills to survive an army and the brotherly love to not sell each other out would be sorely needed.
I wave my hand for Salem to continue with his question. "You've marked all the major points of contention for this prison with that map..." he gestures to the satellite map and blueprints unfolded across the table for all to see. "But the main issue is the master-control terminal in the Warden's panic-room."
He points to the small bunker, situated about halfway up the mountain that rests above us, before gesturing to the large tower witch sits nestled within the above-ground walls and buildings of the prison.
"The control tower does have access to all the systems, and the anti-vehicle countermeasures on the bridge, but the Warden's panic-room has the terminal that allows the control tower to do anything in the first place. Add in the fact that the only way to it is either by express-elevator or by hiking up the side, and that the bunker is an X-5 tamper-proof box from the Cold War, and stopping the guards or Warden from locking the whole prison down is a hell of a lot harder than with the tower." His voice was similar to Nolan North's, but it wasn't so close that I'd end up calling him Nathan Drake on accident.
Rios gave a confirming nod, before pointing to the bridge, the only reliable way off the tiny island the prison rests under. "The moment anything happens, the military base nearby is going to send a small battalion to take this place back, even if we take over the place without a hitch. We've seen the X-5 bunkers in the Middle East, and I'll tell you now that even the soldiers coming to kill us all might not have the gear to get past that door, and the electronics will self-fry if they detect any tampering with the locks."
I give an understanding nod and move my hand in a placating motion to the mercenaries. "Trust me when I say that I'm going to have my hands on something that will make the door itself a non-issue."
Immediately, one of the Japanese members leans forward and speaks in surprisingly good English to me specifically. "Even if you are right, the fact is that El-Presidente has sent that freak here, both to keep an eye on the Warden and to keep the peace among the prisoners... how do you plan to get past him? I've been in the Yakuza for nearly twenty years, and I've never seen a man that big move so fast, or act so strange." His declaration was met with emphatic nods from everyone at the table.
I knew exactly who he spoke of, The Birthday Boy:
Apparently far less psychopathic than his comic-counterpart, but seemingly far stronger and faster than the one I knew, he had arrived four months before my release from solitary confinement. By my and Zombie's guess, we could only assume that his natural physical might had somehow been enhanced by an attempted super-soldier formula, at the cost of sending him even further into a child-like mentality.
Having been sent by El-Presidente himself, along with his "handler" Commandant Rico, Birthday Boy has been sent to "support" the Warden if I cause any trouble. And to most, it would simply be left at face-value, giant-vs-giant and all that, but I know that Pena Duro is working on Venom right now and using prisoners to do it, and I've got the strong suspicion that Rico and BB are here to serve as a deterrent to the Warden.
A deterrent of trying to make a super-soldier that only obeys him, and not El-Presidente... but if I could convince the Warden to pick me for the tests, show him I'm more capable than the current boogey-man of Santa Prisca, then I could get my hands on Venom and be one step closer to my escape all thanks to the existing animosity between the ones who rule this island. My suspicions about the giant man-child's familial connections not withstanding, of course.
"The door is soon to be a non-issue, and the one who guards it is even less so, but do keep in mind my brothers and sisters..." I gesture to the men and women sitting at the table and the guards who are just as much prisoners as the rest of us.
"We won't just take this prison and leave, we will take every single pebble that the High-Junta controls, and return it back to the people... and of course, any ill-gotten gains they might have are going to be... "redistributed" to the ones who fight with me." The eyes that widened in shock around me did so for good reason, because Santa Prisca was more or less "pirate island" in the sense that every terrorist group, gang, mafia, and government on the planet did their dirty business here.
Meaning their were plenty of vaults and banks on this island filled to the brim with money made from crime, and when you have a neutral island to preform most of your transactions, crime certainly does pay, and it pays very well.
"Well, the offer of riches ripped from the hands of thieves is quite poetic, but the other thing you spoke of- giving what was taken back to the people..." A soft voice spoke with a notable Russian accent.
The man leaned forward to rest his arms upon the table, while his men to his left and right held back smirks. "What you speak of, is what my men and I fought for, revolution for one and all..."
Spoiler
Victor Reznov, veteran of World War Two and prisoner of Pena Duro leaned forward with a sharp smile underneath his red bandanna that bore the Hammer and Sickle of his home.
His sharp smile grew larger. "What Russian could resist the call for revolution?"
His smile was infectious, as it spread around the room, even between groups that hated each other, even between the prisoners and guards. Hate for a common foe was truly a powerful motivator.
But my smile was sharpest of all, because their hatred was nothing compared to mine. A tidal wave to a tsunami, a bonfire to an inferno, a rumble to an earthquake.
But first... I'd need to give the Warden some "probable cause".
*****
Only an hour after my meeting, I entered D-block, which housed the entirety of the Nazi population on Pena Duro due to their constant racial attacks on other prisoners at night.
They were quite confused when the lights were turned on, and the main door was unlocked, and even more confused to see the guards escort me in and unlock every cell in the block like I was the Warden preforming inspection.
The leader, a man by the name of Richard Anders, stepped forward and asked if I was here to join them and break free from the "prison made by Spanish devils", with far more charm and charisma than I expected when somebody delivers the typical racial-superiority spiel.
I gave a nod to the guards nearby which they understood as an order to lock themselves into the "riot-box" that contained the controls for the cells and lights.
"Before I begin, I just want to say this... even if this wasn't a necessary part of my plans, even if this wasn't going to make me a very rich and powerful man..." I stepped up to, and towered over, Richard Anders.
"I would have gladly done this, for free."
*CRUNCH!*
My declaration is followed by my hand reaching into his mouth, catching his jaw in an iron grip, before yanking down and to the side hard enough to rip it from his skull in a shower of blood, where I then spun and tossed the jaw-bone with deadly precision into the eye of the largest Nazi I could see.
And as the guards shut off the cell-block's lights, and the Nazi group stood stunned for several moments, I let out my final words as the shadows encompassed me once again.
"You try to rule through fear... allow me show you what fear really feels like."
By the time the Warden arrived nearly an hour later, 1,222 Nazi prisoners had been culled in the dark of their cell-block.
Nobody who heard their screams intervened, not because of who they were, but because they knew what was doing it.
So close now... so close to having all the cards in the palm of my hand.
But now Phase-2 has nearly reached it's end, and soon I will enter Phase-3: Conquer Their Souls