Körbl MeierTime passed as Körbl kept to his stance, mind whirling as numerous scenarios played in his head. One that stuck out especially was the last battle before he was sent into this asylum.
Bricks fly past, his eyes barely keeping up as the air itself tear and bend. Sound following later.Körbl felt his blood boil and rise, sweat poured as well despite the fact he stood still doing nothing. Temperature rose and it felt like a sauna in his cell. If the prison had deigned to equip him with a monitoring system, they'll note that Körbl entire body was supremely active. As if he's fighting for real.
This went on until finally, the guard's activity came and stopped at his cell. Letting out other prisoners first before allowing him to go last.
"Chow time, you know the drill." One of the guards addressed him through the coms first, four to five other heavily armed and armored guards stationed far away equipped with fast-acting tranq guns.
Körbl finally stood up, walked to the back of his cell, and raised his arms. The cuffs in full view and hands open.
Only then, did the door to his prison open with a snap. The lead guard gestured to him to get out of the room instead of them going in themselves.
They learned that from the first altercation.
So Körbl silently moved, the two chain balls tugging along his feet and screeching on the ground as it was dragged behind. His first step outside of the cell had him greeted by the much cleaner or sterile air. Eyes studied his surroundings, guard position, angle, anything he could get his mind on.
"Get going!"
A single moment was all he was allowed before being shouted as guns trained on him, prompting him to make the journey to the cafeteria.
Strong as he was, sustenance was still a necessity. At least he can drink from the tap water he was allowed but eventually, he had to eat something.
The journey to the cafeteria was uneventful but it was calming for Körbl since he could stretch his leg around. Already, he can hear the chatter, tinkling of spoons and metal tray against one another. A guard swiftly kept his distance from him the moment he approach the entrance, and finally, Körbl entered the area.
He could see some of the prisoners turned away from his gaze when he made his entrance. His presence was already announced by the jingling chains and ball. The guards turned their heads to his spot, a seat with little or prisoners that are physically weaker than him. Especially from the pale-looking prisoner with black veins all over his body, giving a glance at Körbl. The latter of whom returned it without any fear or hesitation, fingers twitching in eagerness as he too sized the prisoner up.
Tall, strong, trained too. But body and movement seem off? Körbl thought quietly before he was nearly shoved into his seat by the barrel of a tranq gun. Barely the moment he had planted his rear, a tray was dumped unceremoniously onto the table, splattering parts of the area with food before a wooden spoon was slid next to it.
He wasn't even allowed to get his own food.
Sighing at that, it was certainly a bit too much. He only murdered one prisoner with a metal spoon across him once and that somehow got him the VIP treatment. Feeling more gazes from the guards above overlooking them.
The foods at least decent. Körbl idly thought to himself in between bites.
“Two cannibals are eating a Clown. One says to the other, Does this taste funny to you?.”
"Nein, it taste of a bad joke." Körbl replied nonplussed, causing the guards assigned to him to shift but other than that, he continued to eat. The pun was good, so hopefully, his follow-up could be understood. At least, good enough for the low standards in here.
God, he missed the jokes told by the Brooklyn mafias.
With that, he shoved another slice of peach into his mouth. "By ah' way," he began as he chewed. "Who ahr yoo guys a'eeway?" His lips audibly smacked between each word. "I'uh Jack" He swallowed. "Jack Brennan. Entrepreneur. I'm a guy that knows how to get things," he lied. In Jack's mind, value was it's own protection. If Jack was good for something, maybe he wouldn't be given a hard time by the other inmates.
"Körbl Meier." Hearing someone else asking for introductions, Körbl answered back as he took a spoonful of food, shoved it into his mouth before retracting it to the point the spoon was clean. Eyeing it for a moment before setting it down, back straight, and nearly sending the assigned guard to Körbl panicking when he heard the one phrase that often has Körbl marked that prisoner down for a fight or brawl depending on the response.
"Are you strong?" 
The Irish Tree,
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Not a Sayan