[xtremelady]

Synopsis: Changing Patterns of Existence is a story about perceptions, and about how one mans perception of himself and his ultimate fate, can be changed in a short amount of time. Angel begins the story as a prisoner in the Kalm prison Mines. He is very pragmatic about himself and his believed fate. But as the story progresses and his circumstances change {mainly with the entrance of his mother and sister}Angel finds it necessary to reevaluate his beliefs and those things he knows about himself.

NOTE: Contains strong language and violence!


'fate isn't static, it's a constantly moving,
intangible force'


Angel gave a slight grimace before schooling his features into a bland expression as he stepped into the canteen, betraying nothing of the excruciating pain throbbing in his left leg.

He knew that should his weakness be discovered the other inmates would turn on him viciously. The only indication of his injury was the slight limp when he walked. A lesser man would have been unable to walk on the leg at all.

Gashes and broken limbs were an occupational hazard in the Kalm mines where they were forced to labor sixteen hours a day. The severe cut had been incurred earlier, when the part of the tunnel he'd been mining had collapsed on him. Angel had managed to throw him self out of the way of the main slide, taking only a slight battering from the falling rocks. Only luck and quick reflexes had prevented him being buried and possibly killed.

The commotion brought Rafe Lewis, the oldest meanest screw in the place, and his shadow Mellows. Lewis was less than happy, cursing profoundly about the delay this would cause in this months shipment. He turned his anger on Angel, bringing the baton he always held in readiness down on his cut leg. Angel groaned, almost falling to his knees in agony.

Lewis merely grinned, ''Get this tunnel cleared by shift end or you won't be eating tonight''

He was gone before Angel had time to quell the pain enthralling him. An intelligent move on his part, for Angels first thought was to tear his fucking head off.

'His time will come one day; he would get the bastard eventually, just a matter of biding his time,' Angel thought flexing his bruised and battered body.

It was times like this that marked the difference to how he was treated in reference to the others. Had it been any other inmate they would have been sent straight to medical to be checked over. Not that medical was an option he would have taken; the drugs might have clouded his judgment. Something Angel could have ill afforded.

This difference in attitude was nothing new, he had been treated like a rabid dog all his life because of what he was. Long ago he had learned to accept and ignore the revulsion in eyes that regarded him, learned as a child that no matter how he tried nothing was going to alter peoples perception of him. All they saw, all they wanted to see were his eyes with there unholy green glow, pronouncing him to be half demon. Demons were a race that were both feared and despised through the galaxy as evil vicious people.

Angel stood in line with the rest of the cons, waiting his turn for his measure of food. Tonight the screws were running late, causing chains to rattle in impatience. Angel was near the end of the line having taken the time to thoroughly wash his wound. It had been eight hours since they had last eaten at the beginning of their shift. He was as hungry and eager to eat as the rest of them. Usually he'd be first in line because that's the way both he and they preferred it. He, because it meant eating first. They, because it made them uneasy to have him at their back. Cutter the stocky giant in front of him certainly did not like this change in routine obviously wondering if his death was imminent.

Angel watched Cutter's nervous twitching and constant glances behind with something akin to amusement. Other eyes too watched him with curiosity, cons and screws alike, waiting like vultures to see him take on Cutter. He would be doing more than a few of them a favor by taking him out; most of the gangs wanted him dead.

Like Angel, Cutter was a rogue tapping his feet to no ones tune but his own. Like Angel he existed on borrowed time; it was only a matter of time for them both. The onlookers were bound to be disappointed; he had no argument with the man. Rather, he respected him for surviving this long in the hostile environment that had taken the lives of many others as tough and brutal.

Angel was not pleased by the attention he was receiving, preferring a low profile as possible and cursed the necessity to change his routine that put him once again in the forefront of all their minds. Old grudges would be remembered inspiring a new surge of attempts to take him down. It was the chance he had been willing to take, cleaning the gash had taken precedence for he feared infection setting in more than any man. The relative privacy he needed to keep the wound secret, only attainable at the end of the shift because for most hunger was their overwhelming need.

The seven or eight stitches that were required would just have to wait until the end of second shift. He'd see to it the moment the door to his cell closed that night. His eyes gave him the advantage and ability to see as well in darkness as in daylight. It wouldn't be the first time he'd used the needle and thread he had stashed to sew up a wound.

Eventually the food was brought out and dished to the waiting men, who in their eagerness to eat forgot about their musings about the potential battle between the two most feared rogues ever to set foot in Kalm's penal penitentiary. Angel took his bowl of porridge without comment, every meal time he sat at the same table, in the same seat situated at the back of the room. Nobody had been foolish enough to sit in his place and predictably as he made his way towards it chairs scraped back out of his way allowing clear access through the milling men.

Angel hungrily consumed his bland but filling porridge. Each meal time, they were fed with the stuff without variance in either taste or texture. Vitamin enriched apparently. Angel was not about to argue. His first time in solitary confinement had cured him of his initial distaste for the stuff. He no longer cared what he ate only that he ate something.

Too soon the porridge was gone. Angel sat back in his chair scanning the quiet yet animated conversations of the other cons as they sat huddled in their various gangs around the other tables. The hour's dinner break was a welcome relief after eight hours grueling hard labor and nobody relished the second shift they must endure before they could get the sleep they so desperately needed.

A few had given into temptation or pure exhaustion, falling to sleep at the tables where they sat. A luxury for which, they may very well pay for with their lives. A knife in the side was a common occurrence in the slam; one had only to piss the wrong person off, get in his way or look at him wrong, to be singled out for punishment.

Kalm prison mines were situated on Terrion a small inhospitable, but, none the less habitable planet in the Sol star system. Terrion had been discovered only 150 years prior, due to its synchronous orbit with Earth that placed it on the far side of the Sun from Earth. Terrion's distance and inhospitable environment meant only the hardest, most dangerous criminals were ever transported to work within its mines, and for those unfortunates it was a one way journey.

Cheap slave labor, men who could be treated like animals and nobody would care. Earths prisons were over crowded and under funded, so it had made sense to the politicians to direct some of these convicts off planet. Especially when it cut the costs of the ore, making it a more viable option when weighed against transport costs. Nobody looked too closely at the high fatality rate, it was in everyone's best interests to look the other way, because when it came down to it they did not relish the thought of their standard of living dropping, as it certainly would if the mines were shut down. Earths resources had long since been used up, besides they had too many other problems to worry about.

If the cons did not get you, the screws or the back breaking labor would eventually. The fact that Angel had lasted three years attested to his survival instincts, he had quickly learned in the bad lands of earth to hone his senses in order to survive.

Kill them before they killed you. It had been this motto that had got him sent to this hell hole and it was his ability to kill that kept him alive whilst here. Mainly they seemed to leave him alone, ever since he'd taken out Timmy's crew and the two screws that had got in the way. But in reality he was a walking dead man, killing the guards had placed the nails in his coffin.

They were just biding their time now, waiting for someone capable to take him on since their previous attempts had failed. It would have to be one mean fuck to mess with him, but Angel was not worried. Far from it; He relished the certain future event, of meeting the man or men who might be a challenge, who might be capable of ghosting him from this miserable existence. Not that he intended to be the one to die.

Not for a minute did Angel dare to lower his guard, for when some moron had a grudge they came for his back. So far Angel had been lucky, they had been incompetent bastards and except for a few bad cuts in that first year he remained intact. Now he saw it coming long before the knife made contact. He'd even killed a few who had done nothing more than get too close just on reflex.

Angel felt no remorse for these few, anyone getting too close to his back paid for it: simple as that.

If Angel believed in fate this had been his from the moment of his conception. Loathed and despised by his mother from birth she'd abandoned him to the state welfare system when he was five. Like everything else on earth the welfare system had too many cases and not enough foster homes. Children placed with applicants that should have failed the screening.

Angel had been placed with one such family; Keith and Donna Jackson. Two people who should never been allowed to keep a dog let alone a child. Since unemployment benefits were abolished and over population meant for many finding work impossible, the small income from fostering was desirable and the only way in some cases to keep a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

Despite this the Jackson's were the only ones willing to take on a half demon child and no one ever checked up to see the bruises or scars that covered his body. What other destiny could ever befall him in a world that hated and despised the demon race. He might have tried to hide what he was had he been given a chance, tried to blend in and get a legit job.

But his eyes marked his heritage, with their luminous green quality and narrow oval pupils, so instead he had faded into the underworld as if he'd always belonged there. Society, the law became his enemy and he showed them no mercy. Angel had seen human nature at its worse, and not one did he trust.

The cons sitting at the table nearest him were all huddled around the far side as far away from where he sat as they could get. Angel did not mind being isolated from their crude banter, it was better that way. They were being loud enough for anyone with normal hearing to catch the gist of what they were saying. Angel had realized early in his life he was able to hear more than the average person, the acutely sharp senses able to hear a pin drop twenty paces away. Just another ability he'd inherited from his father, the demon who had raped his mother leaving her with his seed. He semi listened to them, as they once again turned to their favorite topic of conversation: laughing and making crude jokes about Maize Smith.

Maize Smith had been just about the prettiest screw to ever set foot in Kalm. Hard as nails but beautiful with it, she had been a great source of amusement to cons and screws alike. Unfortunately Maize had enjoyed the attention. Not an intelligent thing considering the nature of the three hundred sex starved criminals incarcerated. For months he had listened to them plot and hatch plans to get to her. Some he had been able to prevent, others simply had not worked. But it had been only a matter of time and they had bided there's.

Nearly a year passed before they got their chance. Maize had allowed herself to be lured into the showers on a pretext of trouble; they'd already taken care of the guards inside. The other guards that came held at bay in the doorway unable to see what was happening to Maize only able to hear her screams. Angel however was able to see everything they did. There had been twenty-six cons in the shower block that day and Angel had watched emotionless as thirteen of them each took their turn on her. Some beating her as they did, getting their kicks from hearing her whimpers of pain.

Strangely her eyes had found his within her ordeal, a plea for help in their terror filled depths. She'd been dead long before the last man had finished. Angel had watched the light fade from the pretty blue eyes and could pinpoint the exact moment. He had not joined in, but nor had he attempted to help.

It was not a pleasant memory and the conversation left Angel with a bad taste in his mouth. His attention wondered to the screws instead, assessing their unusual behavior, accurately concluding that the vessel which had arrived that morning had an attractive woman aboard.

He watched their preening and wondered how he could use the distraction to his advantage. Rafe Lewis deserved payback; he had used that baton on him for the last time.

Much to Angel's frustration the opportunity to take out Lewis did not present itself. Not through second shift, where his lack of presence was noted by cons and screws alike. Not at lock up, where by that time the gash he had incurred earlier hurt like a bastard and it took all he had just to make it to his bunk.

***

Angel felt a twist of unease as he along with the eight other cons, who had been extracted from their cells, were being reluctantly urged along the corridor by a parade of burley guards. Not one of the chained men liked this change in routine. It was the only thing that the inmates could rely on in this hellish place. Routine was there ever constant, unchanging if monotonous existence.

Not one of them had failed to notice that all seven of them were considered to be the toughest and worst Kalm had to offer.

''What the fucks going on,'' Angel heard Peters, gruffly ask a guard.

It was Lewis however who answered. ''The Sintari Federation Network wants you for a new TV show.''

Mellows sniggered. ''Yeh, the arena is right up your street, convicts fighting to the death like the gladiators of old.''

Lewis's eyes sparkled as he sent his nemesis a meaningful glance. ''It's going to be one hell of an entertainment program.''

Angel mealy shrugged in response. Even had he felt some qualm at the idea of fighting in an arena for the public's entertainment, he would not have given Lewis the satisfaction of seeing it.

He watched the questioning and slightly fearful looks exchanged between the other prisoners, and felt a mild amusement. Normally these men would be at on another's throats.
Their steps faltered, some falling back behind Angel who had been situated at the back but whose pace remained constant.

''Get a move on.'' Shouted Lewis, and nodding to the guards at the rear, gave his unspoken permission to use their batons on the worse offenders in consequence.

Mellows raised his baton, intending to do the same to him, being on a few paces ahead of the stragglers.

Angel's eyes stalled him in his tracks. His narrowed, luminous glare conveyed a warning to the other man.

Mellows swallowed. ''Get a move on.''

Angel inclined his head and slightly quickened his pace.

Unlike the others he was neither concerned about their destination, nor plagued by the uncertainty of what would happen to them in the arena. They'd have to get him there first.

He concentrated on only two things, firstly on finding an opportunity to take care of Rafe and secondly escaping aboard the transport vessel.

Angel got his chance at Lewis only moments later. The screws broke formation as they went through the security gates leading up to the fourth level.

The Kalm penitentiary had been built on six levels. On the bottom you had the mining operations; the second were the prisoner's quarters. The third and fourth was devoted to the screws. The fifth to storage, and the sixth was the docking bay.

Lewis who had stopped to talk to a fellow officer was now at the rear some distance behind them.

Angel slowed his pace and positioned him self at the back. He spotted a small passageway situated to his right and gauged how long it would take Lewis to catch up before he reached the opening. Angel fell back further, only the two inmates at the rear noticed anything amiss. He slowed down more still and waited for Lewis to reach him.

''What the fuck do you think you are doing? Demon half breed,'' spat Lewis, shoving his metal baton into his lower spine.

Angel stopped dead ignoring the painful jolt he incurred as a result. He smiled, he had judged correctly; they were right before the passage way.

Lewis pushed the baton harder against Angels back. ''You don't want to fuck with me freak.''

Angel did not budge against the pressure. He stayed stock still waiting. The guards in front were still oblivious; all he needed were the ones on the gate to turn away. With the new regulations that now required regular screening of guards using lie detecting equipment, it was common practice for the screws to literally look the other way. Then they could say quite truthfully they had seen nothing.

Lewis snarled at Angel's blatant disrespect and brought down his baton on his injured leg. Searing pain ripped through the limb, causing it to buckle beneath him. Angel drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled through gritted teeth, as he tried to remain focused through the haze of immense pain.

He had not gone down as Lewis had intended. Angel watched as Rafe Lewis raised the baton again for a second try. Still, Angel bided his time. He attempted to prepare him self, even as he accepted that this time he would likely crumple beneath the impact. This time Lewis would put his full weight behind the blow.

Lewis swung, as he did, the guards chose that moment to disappear.

Angel's fist caught the baton in mid flight. He got a brief glimpse of the other mans startled expression, before, with precise precision and infinite grace Angel used his grip on the baton to propel Lewis forward and slip behind him. He had kept hold of the weapon and now used it to maneuver his arm behind him. Angels other arm systematically went around his neck, choking off his vocal cords.

''You should have ghost me whilst you had the chance,'' in one fluid motion Angel propelled Lewis into the narrow side corridor and snapped his neck.

Angel managed to rejoin the others without anyone being the wiser. Being shipped out meant that comeback was unlikely even if they eventually worked out who the culprit was. All he had now to consider was how to escape the transporter, but he had weeks yet to formulate a plan.

Not once did Angel doubt his ability to do so. He smiled, feeling the comforting weight of Lewis's key chain around his neck.

to be continued...

Ok I can only read it a bit at a time so I'll update this post and let you know about the punctuation edits (or spellings etc) that need to be made. If you want me to go ahead and change them myself then please say and I'll happily do so. (I hope you can see the commas in bold and blue where it needs to be edited - in my opinion anyway, lol)

Ok, first look:

The commotion brought Rafe Lewis, the oldest meanest screw in the place, and his shadow Mellows. Lewis was less than happy, cursing profoundly about the delay this would cause in this months shipment. He turned his anger on Angel, bringing the baton he always held in readiness down on his cut leg. Angel groaned, almost falling to his knees in agony.

Lewis merely grinned, ''Get this tunnel cleared by shift end or you won't be eating tonight.''

A few commas missed out and the speech at the end is punctuated incorrectly.

no matter how he tried nothing was going to alter peoples' perception of him..[an extra full stop there???] All they saw

causing chains to rattle in impatience.

I like that phrase

Cutter was a rogue tapping his feet to no ones tune but his own.

I love that one!!

Rather, he respected him for surviving this long

missed comma there.

So far, some really good descriptions and I like where this is going. I think I forgot to mention that pieces don't get approved if the author doesn't participate around the site (not saying you haven't, just didn't know if you know or not), some editors are more strict than others, lol

[xtremelady]

Thank You Duncan - I am more than happy for you to change as you go :-} Very Glad you are enjoying.

I do understand that I need to be an active participant on the site - lol finding this easy in fact Since joining yesterday {except for work obviously} haven't been able to draw myself away. Who needs sleep! lol

If my points are not going up fast, this is because I like to reflect on what I say first - so one piece may take me longer then average to respond to. Writing is such a personal thing and wouldn't want to inadvertently hurt another's feelings with my comments.

Also sometimes my views etc, have already been expressed by other people and I feel if I got nothing new to contribute I tend to leave alone.

If I've misjudged here just let me know :-}

you just have to be honest, but in a helpful way

I'll change the things in your piece then, and I'll let you know of more changes...

Eventually the food was brought out and dished to the waiting men, who in their eagerness to eat forgot about their musings about the potential battle between the two most feared rogues ever to set foot in Kalm's penal penitentiary.

That's a freakishly long sentence. Thought I was gonna pass out from lack of air...luckily I wasn't reading aloud though.

[xtremelady]

I'm so sorry, as you may have guessed this is a previous story written before misconceptions - I did go through it last night, but looking back did get distracted by my son quite a bit. I will make a more concerted effort with the second half I promise:-]

lol, no worries it's up now anyway.

[Nephilim]

hey i really loved the personality in your writing. it has a great narration and voice. its what really set this story apart and made it an enjoyment to read.

[xtremelady]

Thank you very much for your comments Nephilim, I'm really pleased you enjoyed. Hope you enjoy the upcoming conclusion equally.

[Bluejay]

I really enjoyed this. It has a very natural voice, and the narrative moves smoothly. You manage to paint a very engrossing picture, but indirectly, through actions, memories, etc. It gives it more realism than if you tried to just directly describe it all at once.

I like the plot development. I'm eager to see what's next. Angel's character is very compelling. There's something about a confident, capable, slightly dangerous character that keeps things lively and interesting.

Well done!

[xtremelady]

Thank you jnabonne for your fantastic review - glad you liked and hope you think part 2 does justice to this first half.

[angel]

hey hunni this is excellent i read this on ur site a month ago 1st time i didnt really follow but just read it again now i got it lol. excellent work claire it took twice with the sixth sense to realise bruce willis's character is died

[xtremelady]

Cheers Kel - out of all the characters I've created Angel is my fav and possibly will always be. I wrote this at the same time as the first few chapters of insight and my writing group thought the insight story more commercially viable. But my love affair with this character will never die

[protobion]

I have a feeling you read a lot of novels such as Battlefield Earth (L.ron HUbbard), Raiders of the Lost Ark etc. I love the only slightly superhuman protagonist. The story is very grasping to say the least.

It would be nice to see it develop into a some sort of grand epic.

[xtremelady]

I have a feeling you read a lot of novels such as Battlefield Earth (L.ron HUbbard), Raiders of the Lost Ark etc. I love the only slightly superhuman protagonist. The story is very grasping to say the least.

Oh yes I did indeed love reading these as a youngun. I have made several attempts on developing this further...each has ended up in the bin unfortunately and I am at a loss where to take this story from here.. Any ideas most appreciated...cheers.

[JirQUEST]

Hmmm. I love the storyline. Absolutely. I hardly ever read Sci-fi, but that's because I am always reminded of Star Trek and Star Wars, which I never have a thing for. But this is lovely. I like Angel's character... tough, alpha in his own right, and yet so messed up somehow. I think your characterisation was great. For a start, it shows a lot of developmental directions that Angel could take.

I can't, however, say the same for your narration. I think that you are doing a lot of telling, rather than showing. Just off the top of my head, there was one scene where the inmates were talking about Maize. I think that portion, instead of saying that he can hear them, you should show that he can hear them. Insert bits of the conversation into the story, and let the readers find out for themselves. Another example:

They were just biding their time now, waiting for someone capable to take him on since their previous attempts had failed. It would have to be one mean fuck to mess with him, but Angel was not worried.

What you could do with this, was to perhaps add a past experience from his memory where they tried to mess around and failed. Like I said, show, don't tell. That way, you get the message across more visually.

One other thing I felt was really important was your paragraphing. I felt that your transitioning between paragraphs could have been much better. Some just felt unjustified. For example:

... before they could get the sleep they so desperately needed.

A few had given into temptation or pure exhaustion, falling to sleep at the tables...

This could have been together, I felt. Another one:

... had quickly learned in the bad lands of earth to hone his senses in order to survive.

Kill them before they killed you. It had been this motto that had got him sent to this hell hole and...

What you could have done here was to change the phrasing a bit, and then you could have connected the paragraphs together. Re-working it can look like this:

... had quickly learned in the bad lands of earth to hone his senses in order to survive. That would mean killing them before they killed you. It had been this motto that had got him sent to this hell hole and...

Something like that. I hope that helps. I haven't commented in a long time, so it's kinda rusty for me.

[xtremelady]

Jir tyvm - you hit the nail on the head - I do agree with every point made and shall look at it and make changes as soon as poss.

Maybe Angels development would be the way to proceed and you have given me a few potential ideas to explore - I will see where they take me - I had also thought to use him for e-mansion game in an effort to attempt to get a better idea where to take this story - so again thanks