Prison Gang Leader Bullies New Inmate — Not Knowing He’s a Retired Kung Fu Instructor!
Chapter 9
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The second attacker joined the fray, swinging a makeshift weapon fashioned from a toothbrush handle and razor blade. Samuel caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted sharply, and heard the satisfying crack of breaking bone. The weapon clattered across the floor as its wielder collapsed, screaming.But Crusher was relentless. He grabbed Samuel in a bear hug, lifting the smaller man off his feet and squeezing with enough force to crack ribs. Samuel's vision began to blur as the air was crushed from his lungs.In that moment of crisis, Samuel's training took over completely: he drove his thumbs into pressure points along Crusher's arms, disrupting the nerve signals that controlled grip strength. The giant's hold loosened just enough for Samuel to break free.Samuel dropped to the floor and swept Crusher's legs, sending the massive man crashing into a table that collapsed under his weight. Before Crusher could recover, Samuel was on him, his hand positioned at the giant's throat in a hold that could render him unconscious in seconds."Yield," Samuel said quietly, applying just enough pressure to make his point clear.Crusher's eyes went wide with panic as he felt his air supply being cut off. He had never been in a position where his size and strength meant nothing, where technique and knowledge trumped brute force."I yield," he gasped, and Samuel immediately released the hold.The library fell completely silent except for the groaning of injured men and the sound of approaching boots as guards finally arrived. Samuel stood slowly, his orange jumpsuit torn and his shoulder aching from Crusher's blow, but otherwise unharmed."What happened here?" demanded Sergeant Martinez, the head of security for Cell Block D."Disagreement over a book," Samuel replied calmly, straightening his torn shirt. "It got out of hand."Martinez looked around at the destruction, the injured inmates, and the elderly man standing calmly in the center of it all. His experience told him there was more to this story, but prison politics were complicated; sometimes it was better not to ask too many questions."Medical attention for the injured," Martinez ordered his men. "And you," he pointed at Samuel, "solitary confinement."Samuel nodded acceptance. Forty-eight hours in solitary was a small price to pay for sending a message that would echo through every cell block in the prison: the old man wasn't just dangerous—he was unstoppable.As guards escorted him away, Samuel caught sight of Tommy Richardson watching from the corridor. The gang leader's face was a mask of rage and frustration: his hired muscle had failed, and now every inmate in Riverside knew that Tommy's reach had limits, spectacularly so.The solitary cell was 8 feet by 10 feet of concrete and steel: a narrow bed, a steel toilet, and walls that seemed to press inward with the weight of isolation and loneliness. Most inmates emerged from solitary broken, their minds shattered by the crushing quiet. Samuel used the time to meditate, to center himself for what he knew would come. Gang leaders built their reputations on fear, and fear required constant reinforcement. Tommy couldn't let this stand: he would come himself this time, bringing his entire crew and any allies he could muster.