By lthr_jock

Morrison sprawled out in the bed and stretched as he woke up. He yawned extravagantly, enjoying the way his toes tangled in the crisp clean sheets. He looked around the hotel room and scratched at his morning erection. He stopped, puzzled – had he dreamt he had returned to the prison? The memories were so clear – could he have dreamed that? Wondering at what was going on, he walked over to the window and pushed the curtains open to look outside, unworried that anyone would see his naked body through the glass.

The car park down below was speckled with vehicles and the quality of the light made him think that it was early morning. He leant against the window frame as he started to plan his day. His attention was drawn by movement beside a black Landrover. Someone had poked their head up from the other side of it and almost immediately ducked back down. Morrison watched the Landrover for any other movements and out of the corner of his eye saw some movement in the corner of the car park. It was close enough to the hotel that he couldn’t quite make it out and he pressed his face to the glass to try and make it out. He could see another black Landrover and what seemed to be movement on the other side of it.

Morrison could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up – something was wrong. He didn’t know exactly what, but he needed to move. He strode over to the wardrobe and yanked it open. Inside it was mostly empty and he pulled out the clothing hanging there. In his hands he had leather jeans and chaps, leather and denim waistcoats. He shook out the waistcoat to see that it was studded and decorated with “Hells Angels” on the back. He grimaced as he recognised it. He threw the clothing to the floor and went to grab the back on the floor of the wardrobe beside the scuffed pair of bike boots.

As he reached for it, there was a crash and the door to his room smashed open. Morrison caught a glimpse of a figure clad all in black and holding a thick black battering ram step to one side allowing two other men to charge into the room. Both yelled “POLICE! Put your hands on your head!”

Morrison was stunned and barely had time to react before the first man rugby tackled him, driving him back across the room until he fell backwards over the bed. Winded from the assault he didn’t have time to react as his hands were pulled in front of him and locked into chalet cuffs. A thick metal belt was yanked around his waist and the chalet cuffs were secured to it. Morrison was struggling to speak as he was pushed onto the floor, and as he knelt there a metal collar and muzzle were locked onto him. Finally the ankle restraints were put on and Morrison was yanked to his feet. One of the black clad police officers pulled out their phone and Morrison felt the restraints tighten, securing him in place.

By now, the two officers had been joined by three more. One grabbed the bag from the bottom of the wardrobe and opened it up to reveal bound packs of money. “Just where they said it would be.” The same officer picked up the discarded clothing. “ And here’s what he wore for the job.” He then stepped closer to the naked and restrained man “You’re going down for a long time.” Morrison tried to yell and struggle in the restraints, but they were too tight and the only effect he had was to make the officers laugh. Morrison was bundled out the door and out of the hotel to a waiting transport van, leaving only 2 officers in the room.

They looked at each other and started to laugh. They pulled their balaclavas off and leant in for an intimate kiss. One then took out a mobile phone and dialled a number. “Vickers? All clear. Ready for stage 2.” Carl terminated the call and grinned at Greg. “We’d best get out of here? Greg looked disappointed. “What? What else do you want to do?” Carl grinned and leant in for another kiss, his hand straying down to rub at Gregs crotch. Greg burst out laughing. “ Yeah, I get it, but let’s wait till we get home OK? “ With a sigh, the two men put their balaclavas back on and then headed out of the hotel.

***

At the prison, the man in the solitary cell looked up at the sound of multiple pairs of boots running towards the cell. Keys rattled in the lock and the door was smashed open. Three guards were outside together with the warden, who snapped “Palmer. Hurry up. Who the hell is this?” Palmer fumbled at his iPhone and the restraints clicked as they released, allowing the prisoner some movement. The prisoner stood up and Palmer pulled off the muzzle. The prisoner spat out a mouthful of drool and croaked.

“Warden. Morrison did this. He’s trying to escape.”

The warden stood mouth open at the sight of Clark, head shaved and restrained in front of him. He covered his own shock quickly “Palmer, get him out of there. Jenkins, get hold of the police and confirm that we know how Morrison got out.” He then turned back to Clark. “And you, Clark, clean up and come to my office. I suspect you have a very interesting story to tell me.”

Willing hands helped Clark out of the restraints and as his legs seemed to collapse under him. As he was helped along the corridor another guard stepped to one side to let them pass. He stood with his head slightly down, the uniform cap hiding his features. As Clark walked past, the guard looked up enough to reveal Vickers’ features. He gave Clark a thumbs up and then dropped his head again.

***

The case against Morrison went fast and effectively. He had been found with money in his possession and he could not account for where he had got it. The clothes in his wardrobe were the same as those worn in the raid on the betting shop and the final nail in his coffin was the CCTV that clearly showed Morrisons face. His behaviour in court didn’t help as he yelled raved and swore until he had to be restrained in Vickers’ restraint system. Clark testified as to how Morrison had surprised him, overwhelmed him and then swapped places with him. The jury was out for less than an hour before returning a verdict of guilty.

Sat in his cell afterwards, Morrison ignored his lawyer who was babbling at him about how to best reduce his sentence. He shut the man up by slamming one hand on the desk. “I want a one to one with Clark. No one else there. No camera in the room.” The lawyer tried to convince him that this was a stupid idea, but Morrison was adamant. He still had one lever to use against Clark and now was the time to use it.

***

Clark had been waiting for the call from Morrison and agreed to it without hesitation. In the months since Morrison’s arrest, Clark had been questioned by the warden and the police and had told them how Morrison had overwhelmed him and then taken his place. He had spoken frankly of his humiliation and how Palmer had given him drugs to keep him compliant in the cell. Palmer had also been arrested though he protested his innocence. Initially, Clark was under suspicion as well but the evidence against Morrison was so strong that eventually they believed his account.

Clark strode into the interview room and sat down opposite Morrison. He was wearing a leather jacket which drooped open to reveal the camouflage pattern under-armour shirt underneath that did nothing to hide the shelf of his chest and thick muscles of his stomach. His legs were in skintight leather jeans which were tucked inside heavy boots. He ran his hands through the trim horse-shoe of hair on his head, looking once again like the Marine recruit Andy had turned him into.

Morrison looked somewhat worse. His massive body was tucked into an orange jumpsuit. He was sat with his hands chalet-cuffed in front of him and the metal of Vickers restraint system held him securely in place. Clark grinned and thumbed his iPhone to release the locks on the muzzle. Morrison grunted as he felt it loosen and bowed his head to allow Clark to slide it off. He looked up, a predatory grin on his face.

“So, Clark, looks like you have me pretty much fucked don’t you?”

Clark grinned back. “Looks like it. Rumour has it you’re looking at a life sentence, Morrison. And they’ll be moving you to somewhere more secure – like Dartmoor.”

Morrison chuckled. “ Yeah but you’re forgetting one thing – Samuel.” Clark paused, holding his breath. “Yeah, I bet you were hoping I thought I couldn’t use that. I have those pics I was sent which show you in bondage, in rubber and leather – if I release all that, you re fucked Clark.” Clark looked down, his previous confidence disappearing as Morrison went on.

“So here’s what you’re going to do, Clark. You’re going to tell me how you did it and then you’re going to get me out of here.” Clark looked up at him and started to protest but Morrison interrupted him “DON’T tell me you can’t because I know you can. So start thinking. I want to be out by the end of the day.”

Clark nodded and Morrison relaxed, clearly feeling in control despite the restraints. “So, how did you do it?”

Clark sighed and then started talking. “The CCTC was the most difficult thing really. But Vickers got into their system before the police arrived and he spliced it with captured of your face from when you visited him.”

Morrison nodded. He would get his revenge on Vickers later.

“The money was easy – Vickers has been making so much money recently that he could easily put his hands on that much cash. Given what he sells, a lot of people like to pay in cash. Of course the clothes were the ones you had sent to me.”

“Makes sense. How did you get me out of the prison.”

“Well, Palmer had given me some of the drugs he fed me while I was in there. So I slipped them into your protein shake and waited until they took effect. Vickers already had an access card to one area of the prison as part of his work on the restraint systems, and he adapted it to allow him into the prison wings. We then got you out the old traditional way – in a laundry basket. I made sure that I was the guard checking the basket – anyone who saw me during that time would just assume it was you impersonating me. You were so out of it, it was easy to get you into the basket – especially once we sedated you as well. Once you were out, Vickers put me back in the cell and locked me away. So as far as everyone is concerned, you never went back to the prison.”

“But what about the hotel?”

“We bribed the concierge to alter the hotel records. According to them you never booked out.”

“There are people out there who can support my story.”

“You see any of them coming forward, Morrison? If they come forward, they incriminate themselves. As far as the world is concerned, you trapped me in that cell and then did the robbery. I was nothing more than a victim.”

Morrison leaned back in his chair as far as the restraints would let him. He had to admit that Clark and Vickers had done a good job of screwing him. But now it was time to turn the tables.

“Very impressive – you have quite the criminal career ahead of you, Clarkie. But now it’s time to get me out of here. If I’m still in here when the judge decides on my sentence, the whole world knows about Samuel. You will be ruined.”

Clark sighed, his head drooping in apparent defeat. Morrison started to laugh as he looked at the defeated prison guard. Then his laugh slowly faded away as Clark raised his head to reveal he was smiling.

“The thing is, Morrison, that even if I went along with this I know that you would hold this over me from now until the end of time. You would keep coming back to me when you wanted something and each time you’d get me to do worse and worse things. So I really don’t have a choice.”

Clark reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter which he unfolded and put in front of Morrison. “This is a copy of my resignation. I spoke to the warden three days ago and resigned in person. And while I was there, I told him all about Samuel. Samuel no longer has any hold over me, Morrison. In fact, I’m going to make money as Samuel than I ever did as a guard.

Morrison could barely speak, his gaze fixed on the letter in front of him. His potential freedom was fading away from him. He flexed his hands in impotent rage. Clark stood up. “Enjoy Dartmoor Morrison. Unless there’s anything else, I’m out of here.”

Clark strode to the door and opened it, pausing to look back and grin at the prisoner. Without any further words, he headed outside and drove off to meet up with Carl, Greg and Vickers. They had been talking about a leather sleepsack and Samuel was keen to try it out.

 

THE END

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Metal would like to express his sincere personal thanks to the author, lthr_jock, for this story! He tells me this will be the last chapter. If you liked this as much as I did, be sure to leave comments in the comments section below.

If you like this story, be sure to read Training the Sergeant next!