Gunfire riddled the air, a certain stiffness in the atmosphere. A lone figure found himself trapped beneath a pile of rubble. His vision was blurry, and the debris that pinned him to the ground was wedged directly on his bad leg. Wincing with pain, a familiar face charged over to him, firing his M14 marksman rifle at their enemy.
"GET THE HELL UP PVT. WILCOX, I DIDN'T GIVE YOU THE ORDER TO TAKE A DIRT NAP!" Sergeant Mason grabbed him by the collar. "We'll get you out of there!"
Standing up to assess Wilcox's condition, a stray bullet struck the side of Mason's skull, blasting his brains out of the right side of his face.
"Well looka here boys, another Pig gone to slaughter!" With that, Wilcox's vision returned.
He wasn't in the 'Great War', like his hallucination had led him to believe. He was on Alcatraz island, and it was all coming back to him, suddenly, like getting struck by a sack of bricks.
The convict that had killed his fellow Guard snickered, as one of his compatriots approached Wilcox, aiming his Colt down at the older man.
"Nah man, leave him." The leader grinned. "We gotta boat to catch, and this one's as good as dead anyways."
To Wilcox, the convict's face imprinted on his mind. He would remember this one, and if he ever got out of this alive, he was going to show them why his nickname was Papa Bear. Of course, the shock of having an entire wall collapsing on him finally kicked in, and he blacked out.
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Some time later
Frank groaned himself awake, as he looked around at his surroundings. Dead bodies, both Guard and Inmate alike littered the floor. The visceral visage brought him back to a darker time, a time he had wanted to forget, a time that had made him rigged, untrusting, and cruel to those that went against him.
Glancing down, his situation wasn't nearly as bad as he had previously thought before. It was only his foot that was caught beneath the rubble, granted it was the one he had been treated for shrapnel, but he would survive.
Grunting, he heaved the debris off of his foot and stood, uneasily. Glancing down at his side, he shook his head. The Guard that had tried to save him earlier lay there, in a pool of his own blood. Lowering his head, Frank knew that protocol had to be followed, and the Rock needed to be secured. His hunt for the one responsible for this Guard's death would be post-poned.
Kneeling down, Frank gently closed the man's eyes. He was only twenty, probably just barely out of the Academy. Frank was no different, he had joined Alcatraz five years before, and was greener than grass. His only experience was that in the World War, or fighting crime as a SFPD cop on the streets.
"Only the good die young." Frank growled, clenching his fist.
Searching over his deceased co-workers corpse, he found a spare police baton, another pair of cuffs, and a ring of keys.
Standing from the corpse, Frank nodded, jogging through the mess hall and into the prisoner's quarters. A pair of inmates scrounged the area for weapons to use. It was apparent to Frank that these two meant to grab weapons and make the break for it themselves.
Approaching them with his baton at the ready, Frank slammed his baton down on the larger of the two's melon with his beastly strength. Falling to the earth, the massive man shook off the damage, grunting as he tackled Frank to the ground. Smashing a massive fist into Frank's right cheek, the Guard returned the favor with the baton, busting the inmate's nose. The smaller of the two raised his pistol unsteadily. It was obvious to Frank that the man had never used a firearm before.
Pushing the bigger man off, Frank swung at the smaller man, smashing him on the hands with it, causing the frailer man to spin, his weapon discharged, and the wall shattered slightly. The bigger man approached, shorter than Frank by an inch, easily. Thrusting his fist underneath Frank's chin, the bigger man grinned cockily as Frank stumbled backwards, his arms in the air. Slamming his left fist and his baton down, Frank heard a vertebrae in the in-mate's spine shatter from the blow, and the man found himself sprawled on the floor.
Relinquishing the weapon from the smaller man, Frank kicked him away, aiming the Colt at both of them.
"Freeze." Frank growled. "I'm not afraid to put your asses six feet under."
Knowing his defeat, the smaller man laid down, his hands behind his back. Pulling a pair of cuffs from his belt, Frank placed his knee on the middle of the big inmate's back, cuffing the big inmate's hands together.
Moving his attention to the smaller inmate, Frank apprehended him with the second pair of cuffs.
"Stand. Now." Frank spoke, his pistol at the ready.
Tilting his head to the left, the in-mates muttered to themselves as they headed towards the nearest cells possible. Opening the doors, Frank pushed the smaller one in. Patting down the bigger one down, he made sure the inmate didn't have a ring of keys to escape. Pushing him inside of his own cell, Frank locked the door, and entered the smaller one's cell.
Slipping out of his cuffs, the smaller one swung a shiv that he had scavenged, as Frank aimed his pistol at the man's face. Determined to kill the guard, the smaller, agile man charged forward, Frank fired without blinking.
Clutching his throat, the inmate gasped for air as blood poured out of his mouth, and out of the new hole in his neck. No matter how much he tried to breath, he could
feel it rushing out of the hole in the back of his neck. In other words, his lungs weren't getting the proper oxygen necessary, and he was going to die of asphyxiation.
Staring at the guard with a shocked expression, he wheezed for air, pleading Frank for mercy. Sighing, Frank lifted the pistol higher, this time he hit the in-mate square in the forehead, ending his misery.
Frank had to be more careful next time. Heading back out into Cell Block A, he had to find any surviving Guards, and help them regain the Rock.