That time after, Griffin MacAlister made the mistake of attempting to rob a factory, when he was a teenager... here's what happened next.


Cook County Department of Corrections, located at 2700 S California Ave, Chicago, IL and where bRiaN, Reese and Griffin were sent. The entire arrest, transportation, processing and initial face time with a judge, took four days. Then they were sent to Cook County, where bRiaN and Reese, would serve time for trespassing on private property, breaking and entering, attempted robbery and accessories to murder. Yeah, that security guard, he wound up dying before the ambulance could even pull away from the factory.


Since Griffin was in possession of the murder weapon when the three were arrested, he got slapped with the responsibility of the crime. Murder. Along with everything else that Reese and bRiaN were charged with. Save for the accessory to murder accusation. After the ruling, he was taken with them to the jail, where they were meant to serve their sentences, with the exception that it wasn't his final stop. No, he was going to see the inside of another court room and from there, he was destined to serve some serious, hard time. An utter nightmare but this was the reality for a guy, relying on a public defender, after being accused of murder.


The only silver lining was the fact that all three of them got placed in the same cell block somehow. There was a main common area that consisted of one large room, scattered with several, round metal tables and chairs (the kind where the chairs were connected to the table and the table was welded to the floor), a single television hanging from a bracket that was affixed to the ceiling, a phone (collect calls only), two water fountains and a garbage can. This community room of sorts, branched off into multiple side rooms. Cells. Inside each cell, was a single bunk bed and a metal toilet/sink combo.


There was a place to shower and eat but the guards escorted the prisoners there, no one left on their own or could wander off. This was now Reese and bRiaN's new "home" for 10 years. Unfortunately for Griffin, this was nothing more than a pit stop. The gravity of the situation, weighed heavy on the young mechanic and it was hard for Griffin to stop himself from freaking out about his future. How could he not? It was frightening and loomed near, like a great beast's clawed hand, ready to grasp tight and crush the life out of him. The concept of keeping his head down, laying low and staying off the radar of troublesome folk was completely lost on him but then again, this is what Griffin looked like at the time.




Not exactly the Griffin MacAlister of today. It was almost a set in stone fact that bad things would happen. Unspeakable acts of violence and cruelty and that was merely the tip of the iceberg. Griffin wasn't a pussy but getting into fights at shows or on the street, did not even begin to compare to facing hardened criminals in a maximum security prison. Especially, when you're only a skinny, floppy haired, seventeen year old, kid. He had only been in Cook County for two days and even there, inmates were looking at him with terrible intentions smoldering within their eyes. And this was only the pit stop!


Luckily, there was a very large barrier, protecting Griffin and no, it wasn't Reese. That shithead already made friends and was playing poker, like he had been locked up for years. Paying no mind to Griffin's potential peril. Selfish prick. No. Griffin's saving grace, came in the form of a big, bearded, bear man named bRiaN sTorM. His ride or die homie, no matter where the two were located. bRiaN always had Griffin's back and that would never change. Not even after being arrested, for doing something that he wouldn't have normally done, if Griffin hadn't asked for the favor.


The hours drew closer to judgement day though and when that day came, there would be no bRiaN sTorM there. Griffin would be alone. In a place full of actual murderers and criminals of the most foul kind. The waiting and anticipation for such a thing to transpire was a whole new breed of terror. Griffin did his best to mask his fear but when someone knows you, better than you know yourself, it's kind of a hard thing to hide.


"Here."


bRiaN stated, extending a lit (roll your own) cigarette in front of Griffin's face. Breaking Griffin away from his thoughts of impending doom, with supreme success. Griffin leaned back in his chair and then turned his focus to his friend.


"Where did you get a cigarette?"


"Would you believe that someone just gave it to me. Not only that but he lit it for me, by using a wall socket, two pieces of lead and some toilet paper. Some skinhead guy, nice fellow. Said he ran with an anti-racist crew called B.A.S.H."


"B.A.S.H?"


"Bi-Racial, Anti-Racist, Skinheads. He asked me if I wanted a tattoo too but I said no. The idea of using chess piece shavings, soap and a random needle, seemed like it was destined for infection. Anyway, I figured, you could use the cigarette more than me, considering..."


There was hesitation and an air of doom, bRiaN didn't want to finish that thought out loud. So he started a brand new one.


"Here just take it."


An insistent waving of the cigarette caused Griffin to chuckle, in a scenario where laughter was sparse and he reached out and accepted bRiaN's gift.


"Much obliged. Thank you."


Sitting down on a chair at the table where Griffin was stationed at, bRiaN pulled a toothpick from behind his ear and began cleaning under his finger nails. This was something bRiaN did outside of jail, the fact that bRiaN was doing it inside prison too, made Griffin laugh as he took a drag from his present. Coughing immediately afterwards, he released a cloud of smoke and looked down at the cigarette, with distaste and then took another pull.


"I'm almost seventy five percent sure, I'm smoking sawdust laced with nicotine."


This remark made bRian snicker.


"Did you talk to fuckwad today?"


"You mean, Reese?"


A puff of smoke.


"We're literally saying the same thing."


"No, but he shoved me aside by the water fountain, I slammed into the wall, he drank water and walked away. Oh and he flipped me off as he was walking away. So he's doing well. This whole situation hasn't broken his will or changed him one bit. That's good. Now if I only had some pot for him to steal, I'd feel like I never left home."


"That ass wipe is the very definition of turd stain."


"I guess he's livin' up to his full capabilities then."


The clink of a guard's keys, hanging from his belt caused Griffin to drop the cigarette and smother it, with his shoe.


"M-4237. Inmate: MacAlister. Your lawyer is here."


What could this mean? It had to be a mistake. Griffin didn't have a lawyer. Not one that he paid for anyway. Puzzled, he cocked a brow in confusion and mouthed the word "lawyer" to bRiaN. Which summoned a shrug from bRiaN as a response. This pushed Griffin to take the risk of questioning things.


"Lawyer? You mean my public defender?"


"Nope. This is a bona fide, real deal, hot shot, lawyer. Wearing a fancy suit and everything. Said his name was Maxwell Maximus. Ring any bells?"


"No. Not in the slightest."


"Well, it looks like you hit the jackpot cause he asked for you specifically, by name."


A real lawyer, wanted to talk to Griffin? There was a chance he could get a lesser sentence? One without the possibility of sodomy? Was there any question what Griffin responded with next?


"Alright, I'll see him. What could it hurt, right?"


A sense of hope rose in Griffin as he stood up and turned his sights to bRiaN.


"Hey, cross your fingers, that this ain't some kinda mix up and he's looking for another Griffin MacAlister or some shit."


"Can do. I'll be praying for you too."


These would be the final words shared between the two, until the day that bRiaN sTorM joined the XWF many years later.

---

"Well folks as you can see, whatever damage that was delivered to me, has been repaired. I am not tryin' to rub it in or brag. These are just the way things are for me and it's all due to conditioning. My body was altered to be more durable and mend itself when injuries were inflicted. That was done to give me the ability to weather the wear and tear of my duties. If I suffered an unforeseen issue or something happened leading to disaster, I would survive. Everything but something that could cause an instant flat line anyway."


"Not because the folks that did this to me cared, they did it cause I was their property. Their 'living weapon' and people do things to insure that their property is protected, especially when it's useful and essential to have around. That isn't my life anymore but I can't change, what's already been done. There's no going back. This is me now."


"Next up on the agenda of things to discuss, my match. Last Man Standing. Notorious Ned Kaye, is my opponent. The rockstar of Anarchy. Kickin' ass and taking names. He's simply another assignment for me. Another guy I gotta meet in the ring. No offence, Ned. That isn't an insult, it's fact. We're not friends or enemies, we're not even work acquaintances that converse over cigarettes. That's cool. You don't have to be any of that. I'm not looking for it. You're a part of a job that I need to complete and I intend to fulfill those requirements."


"A job that I admittedly enjoy cause I fuckin' love throwing boot parties. Reigning stomps down on the skulls of my opponents. That's the fuckin' shit. Cause it's a release, all that conditioning I went through, it left me with a need to inflict pain and this gives me an outlet to do it. Willing targets of abuse. For someone like me, what could be a sweeter deal than that. So yeah... fuck yeah, I'll march to that ring and I will gladly, throw down with anyone management gives me."


"Hold up, that ain't exactly true."


"There is an exception."


"The kids, I don't know why they insist on hiring children but it's messed up."


"That's the only time I find an issue. I have a conscience and it really takes a toll. I mean, I'll go out and do what's expected of me but I won't like it."


"Since you're not a tiny, teenage girl, I promise you, Ned... I'm comin' at ya with intent to do some real, grievous bodily harm and even if you win, the damage that I inflict on you will last far longer. You will carry those scars onward and they'll stay as a reminder, so who's really the loser? Cause I guarantee, this won't be the last you see of me and I'll be as battle ready as I am today. The only thing that will change is who's standin' in front of me."


"How long do you think you'll be able to keep this up, before those scars add up and you can't fight anymore? When it happens and it will happen. I'll remember to schedule a match for myself, in your honor for that day. Does that make you mad Ned, I hope it does cause I want you to come at me pissed off. With the desire to destroy. It'll make our match, all the more fun that way."