*File Incomplete~
Incident File Report: Kirock Sunmare
Incident # 2358867
Date of Origin: Unknown

Let me guess, you want to hear a story about Kirock. I feel kinda weird saying it like that, it’s not like they guy’s dead or anything. But there are stories, and more than a couple of em. Let me tell you the one that’s the clearest in my head. To start, my name’s Rog, and you’re pretty rude not to ask. But since you’re asking about Kirock, you already know I work in StoneClaw Maximum Security Prison.

I did my time in the service, got out, and in about two months realized I couldn’t function in what you call ‘normal’ society. Old dog like me, I’m not much a fan of office work or retail, so I became a prison guard. A lot of us who serve do, it’s just easier that way. They’re regimented, gives us the familiarity we got used to during our tour of duty. Here, just like there, we always have to be on alert, and we always have to be prepared for the unexpected. Just because a prisoner’s behind bars, doesn’t mean they’re not dangerous.
But you don’t want to hear about me, you want to hear about him. Kid, if you don’t know who Kirock is, then you must not be a fight fan. In case you’ve been on another planet the last twenty years, I’ll fill you in. Kirock’s the undisputed champ of the GCF. That’s Gold Collar Fight, hard hitting boxing. Real elite, and they got rules, unlike that underground illegal stuff you see on channels you got no business watching. Kirock was the best, the guy’s a bulldog. Well, that and something else. Got to be something else in him because I’ve never seen a bulldog that’s hit seven foot, and looks as thick as his is tall. Anyway, after fifteen years and over a hundred-some-odd fights he hung it up. One day just came on the tube and retired. No explanation, no reason, just said he was done. Caused a lot of hubbub. He’d never been beat, and it didn’t look he was going to be beaten anytime soon. So he disappears for a few years, just drops off the world, and five years ago to the day, shows up here, reporting for duty.
Now I can tell from the look on your face you don’t really know what this has to do with anything. Let me explain something to you kid. This is Stoneclaw. You don’t come here unless you’re the worst of the worst, both criminals and guards. You need to have screwed up big time to get carted off to this place, either that or you got something screwy in your head. We don’t know which one of those Kirock falls into. Me and the Warden been champing on it every couple of weeks since he got here and we still can’t make heads or tails of it. The guy had it all, why give it up for this? To top it off, there are rumors floating around about High Command wanting him to take charge of one of their strike units. Who says no to High Command? For this?
But don’t get me wrong junior, it’s not that this place couldn’t use him. People wonder how we get the darkest parts of society and yet we’ve been incident free for the last five years. No riots, no recurring outbursts of unruly behavior. Hell, no one’s been shanked here in… like I said, five years. He’s why. Now this happened a couple of weeks ago, in the mess hall. That’s usually where this stuff goes down. Outside of the yard, eatin’ time’s the only time the inmates get to interact. That’s where the pecking order’s established in most places. Here, there ain’t a pecking order. Tell you why. On this particular day we got three new inmates. All dogs, two had that mixed look, you know, like their fur got confused and colored itself wrong. Not much to them. The third one though… when you been a guard as long as I have, you can tell who’s going along for the ride and who’s going to reach for the emergency brake.
This one was a reacher.
Ever hear of a ridgeback? They’re not the biggest dogs, but they’re up there, and like any dog, you get one that isn’t raised right and you get a beast. That was this guy to a tee.
You’ve seen the prison movies. Guy enters the prison, finds the biggest inmate he can, whoops up on him some and ‘earns his respect’. Cow flop, all of it. Just because it entertains you on the big screen don’t make it true. In reality, you punch the big guy, you earn yourself a trip to the E.R, or worse. But I guess the ridgeback had seen enough of those movies to think it was a good idea.
He’s in the mess hall maybe ten minutes before walking up to Clarence. Pretty big dog, Shepard mixed with something else, maybe Scotty. He’s serving a ten-year stint, reduced time because he technically only held the safe while his buddies broke into it. Bad deal for him, about to get worse.
The ridegback steps right up to him, his two tagalongs beside him and says
“What up, mutt?”
“What’d you call me?”
Let me jump in here. We don’t like the ‘m’ word. Not outside these wall, and not inside them. I know you may think I’m a fogey, but us fogey dogs like to keep that word in its place, and that place ain’t in our mouths. Anyway, it’s enough to offend the inmate into lowering his guard, and ridegback takes the opportunity to deck Clarence hard as he can. Drops him with no problem. No sooner does he hit the ground, ridgeback is looking around shouting “You see that?! You test me you get the same!” He’s got that look you see people get when they’re high on Ray-B. Crazed, like the gears in their head are grinding overtime and stripping themselves. What’s worse, now he’s got a body on the floor to justify whatever’s going on in his head. Duke’s the first guard on the scene. Young guy, a good kid. He’s one of those country boys, bred on that vegetarian filler that beefs you up and fills you out. Got the face of a 17 year old, real popular with the ladies. We like to razz him for being a labrador, tell him he should be locked in a cage full of women, not a jail full of men. But he does his job and he’s damn good at it.
Unfortunately, ridgeback’s buddies are feeling his high. Duke’s barely made his way over when one drops and grabs his legs, the other latches onto an arm while ridgeback takes him by the collar of his shirt and hurls him into a nearby table.
That’s when Kirock walks in, and suddenly it’s quiet. Just quiet, like that shocked silence you get after the crack of a gun. He looks around, walks over to Duke and pats his shoulder.
“You alright?” that voice is solid, thick like him. Duke nods. Kirock looks from him to the ridgeback.
“Why’d you do that?” Kirock asks the question like a real question, if that makes sense to you. Not a hint of a condescending tone. “You didn’t have to do that, Duke’s a good guy.”
“You testin’ me?!” ridgeback shoots back, he has to crank his neck to lock eyes with Kirock. Some of that fire’s dwindling. Ridgeback’s got that jock build, big up top, tapers down to a pair of solid legs, but Kirock’s big all over. Anyone standing behind him wouldn’t have been able to see ridgeback.
Where am I during all this? I’m posted at the west entrance, this whole thing happened about fifteen feet from where I’m standing. Why didn’t I jump in when Duke got hit? I don’t mind telling you, we’ve been doing things a little differently since Kirock arrived. Oh sure, we’re still following the basic protocol, but in these kind of instances, we don’t immediately jump into the lockdown scramble you see on those prison shows. We’re ready to do it at a moment’s notice, but in the last five years we’ve never had to.

Where was I? Oh yeah, ridegback’s cronies are still sharing his high, so they rush Kirock. It’s a ridiculous sight, but there it is. Kircok’s still got his eyes locked on ridgeback when he sidesteps them with the most subtle foot movement I’ve ever seen. I did mention the guy was GCF champ right? I know he knows how to dodge a punch, but like they say, seeing it on t.v. and seeing it in real life is a totally different experience. The cronies collide like they’d been aiming for each other the whole time. One accidentally punches the other out, carries them both end over end and winds up smacking his skull on the cement. Blink of an eye, two cons dropped, zero effort.
Now it’s just ridgeback, he’s looking into Kirock’s eyes and I can tell away he doesn’t want to. I wonder how many guys Kirock’s stared down in the ring, guys a whole heck’ve a lot bigger, and whole lot more dangerous than ridgeback. I know I sure as shoot wouldn’t want those baby blues locked on me.
“You really want to hit me, huh?” It’s more of an observation than a question.
“Wanna? No you big waste’ve space, I’M GONNA!” I swear I’ve heard that in one of those overblown action movies my kid loves, or maybe I’ve heard other inmates use it before they make the same mistake ridgeback is about to.
“Alright. You get two. Make em count.”
I worry when Kirock does this. I’ve seen him do it a bunch of times, but it doesn’t loosen that knot I get in my stomach every time I hear him say those words. I worry about the guy getting himself shivved one day. The ridgeback’s confused, he kind of looks around, not sure why no one’s stopping him. You can see him trying to work it out in his head. But he comes to the same conclusion as everyone else who doesn’t know how things work in Stoneclaw. They just can’t resist trying to knock down or knock out the biggest guard on the block.
“You trying to trick me?” he asks.
“No trick. Go ahead.” The body. They always go for the body first. Nothing wrong with that, it’s pretty smart. You wind your opponent, they double over while you rear back and unload with your strong arm. There’s only one problem with this. The second half of his name is ‘Rock’ for a reason.
The ridegback swings, hard as he can, and we all hear this uneven cracking, like someone just broke a handful of carrots. Something’s broke alright, the con’s fingers and hand. From my view, it looked like someone took a hammer to it, all bent and angled the wrong way. If the look of the hand didn’t convince us it was shattered, the ridgeback’s screams did. One of those wide-eyed unseeing looks came over his face. You knew he was in pain because he kept reaching for his broke stump of a hand with his good one, but he was too afraid to touch it.
And Kirock doesn’t move, just stands there watching the ridgeback. Then he takes a step closer and he’s looming over the guy.
“G-get a-a-away f-from me!” the ridgeback manages, but he’s backing up and Kirock keeps advancing until the guy’s flat against the wall. It’s always that same wall.
The con’s trying to back through the cement and Kirock leans in close.
“What’s wrong?” he gets even closer, “You still got one more shot to land.”
The ridgeback looks like he’d rather gargle thumbtacks.
“Hit me.”
“I- no. N-No!”
This one’s done. He’s not going to take a chance and wreck the hand he’s got left. “I said, hit me.” Kirock says it again, his voice lower, like a truck rumbling. Damn, I can see it in his eyes, he’s getting mad. He only gets mad when they won’t hit him. I asked him about that once. He said it doesn’t matter the situation, if you’re given a shot you should take it. I’ve never asked him why he didn’t take his ‘shot’ at being a big wig in High Command, they sure wanted him bad enough.
A crash shakes me out of my stupor, and I see something that freaked me the hell out the first time I ever saw it. It looks like Kirock’s put his fist through the ridgeback’s head, but that’s because I’m looking at them in profile. Kirock’s stance is different. His feet are planted, knees bent slightly, and his upper body is turned more towards me. He’s still glaring right at the ridgeback. Geez that guy’s a frickin metal steel mill under that uniform. You can see the muscles, like oversized clenched fists. The top three buttons are gone, and now so are the sleeves, what’s left of em. His fist, even though I can’t see it, isn’t buried in the ridgeback’s head, but it IS buried in the wall. Yeah, the cement wall.
“I’m only going to say this once. You got sent here because you’re a bad person, but while you’re here, you will be a very good person.”
I’m far away, I should be too far away to hear him, but right now I could hear a pin drop. The mess hall’s silent. They’re never silent-unless Kirock’s breaking in a newbie.
“You don’t act tough in this prison. You be tough.”
He gets closer, leaning way down to make himself nose to nose with the ridgeback. His eyes-man, I wouldn’t want that stone look to ever come my way. “Understand?”
The ridgeback’s sucking wind like he just ran a minute mile.
The convicts all wear gray uniforms, standard issue. Light gray sweatshirts, light gray sweatpants. The ridgeback’s crotch is now dark gray, lines of wetness run down the legs of his pants.
And it’s still silent in the hall. No one laughs. No one says anything. Not a cough, not a chuckle, nothing.
“I-” he’s gulping air, sounds like he’s about to cry but I don’t see any tears. I see his eyes rolling in his sockets though, I can see the whites, his pupils are tiny black dots on pale spheres.
“I-I underss-s-stand.”
And that’s all Kirock wants. He nods towards the ridgeback’s buddies, still out cold, and gives the guy a warm, genuine smile. He pulls his hand out of the wall, it’s dusty and gray, bits of concrete fall away from it when his gives it a quick shake.
“Tell your friends.”
He points to me, gestures me over and I go without a word.
“Rog here’ll get you some new duds.”
The ridgeback nods vigorously. I think he would have been just as agreeable if Kirock told him to stick his head in the oven.
I took him by the elbow and moved him along. He didn’t resist, he didn’t even look at me. I think he retreated into his own head for a bit, but they usually do after encountering Kirock for the first time. He’s not the first, and I’d bet my pension he won’t be the last.

So that’s the story kid. Come on back anytime, I got a million of em. You work here as long as I have and you see things that’d make your fur swirl, like the sabertooth we have to keep away from the guards and inmates, because he once convinced a guy to shove his own head through the bars. You see some freaky things in here kid. I try not to think about the ones we got locked away, because you always gotta wonder if these were the ones we were able to catch, who’s out there that we can’t?