Chapter 2 - The Warden’s Panic
Warden Thomas Vance sprinted down the narrow, industrial-carpeted corridor of the administrative wing, his tie flying over his shoulder, his face slick with panic. He didn't care about the routine morning reports. He cared about the federal secure fax machine sitting in his private office—a machine that had just spat out an unclassified, highest-priority override directive stamped directly from the Department of Justice.
He burst into his office, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him.
The fax machine was still humming, rhythmically pushing out page after page of dense legal text bearing federal seals that made Thomas’s stomach drop into his shoes. He snatched the first page, his eyes scanning the bold header: IMMEDIATE MANDATORY STAY AND CONDITIONAL EXONERATION REVIEW.
Beneath it, the name of the inmate in question blazed in stark black ink: Vance, Martha Elizabeth.
"No," Thomas breathed, the color draining entirely from his face. "No, it's impossible. She was supposed to be buried under twenty years of administrative red tape. Who authorized this?"
He grabbed his desk phone, smashing the intercom button to connect directly with the intake and records guard station. "Miller! Miller, pick up the damn phone!"
Static hissed through the speaker, followed by Miller’s panicked, breathless voice. "Warden? Warden Vance, thank God—we have a situation in the main yard—"
"I know about the yard!" Thomas roared, cutting him off. "Listen to me very carefully, Miller. Where is inmate Vance right now?"
"She... she was just in an altercation with Razor, sir. Razor struck her, and—"
"Did she bleed?" Thomas interrupted, his voice cracking with sheer terror.
"Warden, what?"
"Did Martha Vance bleed a single drop?!" Thomas screamed, slamming his fist onto the mahogany desk.
"I... I don't think so, sir. But the federal marshals—they just breached the outer perimeter gate. Three black SUVs. They’re demanding immediate access to Block C."
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Thomas slammed the phone down onto its cradle, his hands trembling violently. He looked back down at the federal directive on his desk. The document didn't just order Martha’s release; it detailed a fifty-year-old corporate conspiracy, a falsified trial transcript, and a hidden federal banking ledger that proved Martha Vance had never committed the financial crimes she was convicted of. She hadn't entered Blackwood as a prisoner. She had entered as an undercover federal inspector general carrying a warrant for the entire state penal board.
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