08. ♞ CONTRABAND

PHOEBE WAS SITTING on the bottom bunk in their cell, leaning against the thick metal poles at the foot of said bunk as Michael sat across from her, his back facing the toilet in the corner of the cell. Michael held a small mirror below his left arm, looking down at the reflection of his tattoos, names, and writing down the words on a piece of paper. Phoebe was startled as Sucre suddenly jumped off the top bunk, singing in Spanish to himself, and walking over to the toilet as he began to pee. Phoebe scrunched her nose and turned around uncomfortably. She would never get used to this.

"God, we really need some curtains or something around that toilet." Phoebe seethed distastefully. Michael chuckled.

"I really don't know why they didn't just, like, put you in a cell by yourself." Sucre commented, continuing to use the toilet. Damn he takes long, Phoebe thought to herself.

"Well, if I can't get my own cell, we might as well add some curtains for privacy. I don't know about you two, but I'd feel much more comfortable if we at the very least had curtains." Phoebe said, crossing her arms as she looked out of the cell, unaware of the way Michael's eyes were staring at her. Michael chuckled.

"We'll hang up some sheets or something." Michael promised. Phoebe smiled to herself. Michael smiled at the sight of her smile.

"Hm." Sucre suddenly said, tilting his head as he zipped up his pants and examined the toilet.

"What?" Michael asked, writing down some numbers on the slip of paper he had in his hands.

"Toilet won't flush." Sucre said. Phoebe's smile fell, recalling an important piece of information she'd read about the penitentiary when they were still planning the escape.

"So?" Michael asked. Phoebe finally turned fully in her spot to look at Michael.

"Michael, they shut the water off so the toilets don't flush so inmates can't flush their contraband when they're getting searched by guards." Phoebe informed him, hearing the buzzing of cell doors opening all around the cell block. Sucre's eyes widened.

"Means only one thing, fish." Sucre said, rushing to the cell door and peeking out as a guard came into view.

"Shakedown!" The guard shouted. Immediately, all hell broke loose. Inmates began to toss item after item, papers and small drug bags and shanks, out of their cells, soon littering the entire cell block floor. "All contraband will be confiscated!"

"Well, we got nothing to worry about." Michael said nonchalantly, watching Sucre lift the mattress on the top bunk. Phoebe cocked a brow.

"Yeah, it's not like we have any contraband." Phoebe added with a shrug. Sucre pulled out a small plastic baggie with white powder inside of it from under the mattress, showing it to the duo.

"Says who?!" Sucre shouted in concern, fixing the mattress and standing up as he scurried around the cell, climbing the bunk bed. As Phoebe and Michael stood up, Sucre pointed towards a small table in the corner of the cell and Michael rushed towards it.

"Under the table, coño!" Sucre instructed nervously. Michael reached under the table, feeling around before pulling out a shiv (more commonly known as a shank). Phoebe's eyes widened as Michael held the shiv up between their faces.

"What the hell is this?" Michael asked, examining the weapon in his hand. Phoebe grabbed it out of Michael's hands cautiously, examining it.

At the same time that Phoebe said, "It's a shiv", Sucre said, "It's insurance, white boy!" Michael gave Phoebe a look, almost as if saying I knew it was shiv, it was a rhetorical question, dumbass.

"Now dump it!" Sucre instructed them, pushing Michael and Phoebe towards the cell door. Phoebe gripped the shiv tightly in her hand as she stumbled and crashed onto the cell door, Bradley Bellick strutting up to the cell with a smirk as he examined the shiv in her hand through the bars. Phoebe gulped and took a step back after recomposing herself as Michael grabbed her hips and pulled her away from the door, slowly taking the shiv out of her hand. Bradley chuckled mockingly.

"Open it!" Bradley called out. The cell door opened and Michael subconsciously pushed Phoebe behind him as Bradley took a step inside. "So, looting up for the race riot, are we?" Bradley asked. "Hand it over." He commanded. Michael remained silent, with a blank expression on his face as he handed Bradley the shiv. Bradley hummed as he examined to weapon.

"Huh," Bradley said. "Rug-head and the Billy. Which side are you on anyhow, fish?" He asked Michael, ignoring Phoebe and Sucre for a moment.

"That would be neither, boss." Michael informed. Bradley's eyes shifted to Phoebe, who took a step back and away from his intense stare. Bradley smirked.

"And what about you, sweetheart?" Bradley asked in a deeper tone of voice. Michael's entire body tensed at the way he spoke to Phoebe, which Phoebe could feel since she was standing so close to him.

"Neither." Phoebe responded coldly, eyes narrowed at Bradley as she then tilted her head and took a step forward, "Boss." She seethed. Bradley smirked and chuckled, turning his eyes back up to Michael.

"Maybe you're gonna go extracurricular with it, then." Bradley theorized, once again speaking to Michael, "Stick a C.O, maybe." He said with a small smirk. Phoebe clenched her jaw as she watched Bradley hold the shiv up to his neck from afar, and oh how she wished she could shove it into his throat.

"Is there a problem here, deputy?" Warden Henry Pope asked as he approached the cell, head tilted as he looked over at Bradley. Phoebe smirked. She knew the warden had asked for Michael's help in constructing a small building as a gift for his wife for their anniversary. They had an advantage here. Pope liked Michael.

"Got a shank in here." Bradley said, showing the warden and the other guards behind Pope the weapon. Pope took the shank in his hand and held it up for the cell mates to see, looking directly at Michael.

"Is this yours?" He asked Michael. Michael remained silent. Pope then looked over at Phoebe. "Or... yours?" He asked. Phoebe decided to follow Michael and also remain silent. She brought up a hand behind Michael's back and gripped onto the back of his shirt nervously. Pope looked back at Sucre, seeing him put his head down. Pope then looked back at Michael and then at Phoebe. "You're not good liars." He said. "Come on, Sucre. You're going to the SHU." Sucre put his head down again, walking around the duo and out of the cell as he followed the guards, giving Phoebe and Michael one last glance. The SHU, Phoebe had learned, is a place where they isolate inmates for bad behavior, as a sort of extra punishment to them, as if already being in prison wasn't punishment enough.

"Move along, deputy." Pope said to Bradley as he turned around and began to follow after the guards leading Sucre away. Phoebe gulped in relief.

"I'm not done shaking this cell down, yet." Bradley said, clearly wanting to find something to punish Michael and Phoebe for. Pope turned to stare at Bradley.

"I said move along." Pope spat, turning back to follow after Sucre. Michael smirked at Bradley, Bradley only looking at them with a scowl on his face, anger clear in his eyes.

"In the old man's back pocket, are ya?" Bradley spat, "Well I got news for ya, fishes. He may run this place during the day, but I run it during the night." The cell door then shut again, and Bradley smirked at Phoebe. "See you around, sweetheart." He cackled and then moved along to the next cell. Phoebe released a sigh of relief, releasing her tight grip on the back of Michael's shirt and taking a step back, moving her hair out of her face slightly and pinching the bridge of her nose nervously.

"For a second there, I thought we were both gonna get sent to the SHU, as well." Phoebe said with a small nervous chuckle as she leaned against the bunk bed. Michael smiled and took a step towards her, moving a strand of her hair away from her face and behind her ear. Phoebe blushed, looking down for a second.

     "I would've taken all the blame, then." Michael said softly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Phoebe chuckled.

     "Right, one of us would've had to stay here to move things along." Phoebe said with a chuckle. Michael simply smiled.

     "Right."