[h2]Vladimír Zahrádka[/h2][hr]

The echoes of block C-4 bounced off the concrete, brick walls of Vladimirs cell on the night of November 8th, 2094. In the deep reaches of the block a man could be heard whimpering cries of, [color=#e8614f]"I didn't do it."[/color] repeated over again in an endless rhythm of meditation, accompanied by the sound of his steps shuffling in circles around his cell. Over and over again as if reciting an maddening poem of self-denial. Some cells closer in a man was smacking something against the wall, something soft like a pillow while whimpering under his breath in unintelligible gibberish. Across from that man sat an older gentleman who had spent many years in the prison and was watching the man with the pillow cooing and muttering words of interest towards him such as, [color=#e8614f]"Man, I can't wait until I get you alone in the shower."[/color] and [color=#e8614f]"Keep flexing those muscles like that for me, Baby."[/color] The movements bouncing under the seems of his jumpsuit left no room for imagination as to what the man was doing with the hand tucked away beneath his provided garb. This was Vladimir's nightly chorus, accompanied by the many thoughts coursing through his head. Thoughts of regrets, of hope and of inventions. 

Sweat dropped down the cresses of his cheeks as he released his energy doing push-ups against his cell floor. This nightly workout was Vladimirs routine, he had developed it over the course of the 6 months he had already spent within the prison. His arms, chest, abs and legs stayed strong beneath the stretches of fabric that marked him as a prisoner. Release the energy so the maddening thoughts of the death of his brother don't resurface and keep him up most of the night.

Vladimir's cell parter was named Poval, he was also a Czech and was sent to prison for the rape of an adolescent. Poval approached Vladimir on his first night within the prison for some friendly welcoming and was greeted in return the a broken nose, a spit in the face and a sharp knee in the balls. Poval never bothered Vladimir again, they never spoke to one another, never discussed things, never looked at each other and never acknowledged the others presence unless absolutely necessary.

The lights of the cell block flickered as they often did when new prisoners were arriving. Vladimir stood up with an exhale and laid in his bed, one tattooed arm laying across his glistening forehead as he imagined what kind of new comers they were receiving, what had they done, why were they there, what caused them to delve down the path they did. He closed his eyes for an instance in his thoughts watching the final flickers of the light through his eyes lids. The sounds of a cell block door opening quickly caused his eyes to beam open. It wasn't his cell door it was one deeper down the line.

The man walking in circles stopped muttering for a moment the sounds of his shuffles scrambling as if he was in a scuffle, the sudden yell of [color=#e8614f]"I didn't do it!"[/color] quickly bounced it's way into Vladimirs cell along with the blood curdling wail of the man screaming in pain. [color=#e8614f]"I didn't do it!"[/color] he screamed again, pained. [color=#e8614f]"Shut the fuck up you filth!"[/color] came the familiar voice of the cell block guard, accompanied by the sound something hard hitting flesh and another scream from the prisoner. The door slammed shut again with laughter echoing from the lips of the cell guard in unison with the sobs of the man he had just assaulted. 

Vladimir shook his head in disgust, his arm now covering his brown eyes as the lights with a loud thud, shut off leaving only the dim emergency lights high up on the ceiling on otherwise leaving them in pitch darkness. His eyes closed, the name 'Zdeněk' echoing in the far reaching corners of his mind as he fell asleep.