Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - [Part 2] Slashers vs. Mafias: PRISON BREAK - Jasper's Story

Episode Date: September 10, 2025

Wake up or stay up with NoSleep Coffee! Check out ⁠NoSleepCoffee.com⁠ to get 20% off fresh roasted coffee delivered straight to your door. Just use promo code NOSLEEP20 at checkout for 20% off your first order! Listen to the story from Yara's perspective on After Dark here: https://open.spotify.com/show/3gZikZZldwY6J7vFCLV7ox?si=087728ed029d4c6b Join Premium today and binge hours of bonus horror stories you can’t hear anywhere else: ⁠patreon.com/drnosleep Author: Dave Kavanaugh * * * CONTENT DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content not limited to intense themes, strong language, and depictions of violence intended for adults. Parental guidance is strongly advised for children under the age of 17. Listener discretion is advised.  #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Dr. Sunday was having a very bad week, and to top it all off, traffic was terrible as he left his office on that snowy Friday evening. The whole city, it seemed, had tickets to the big football game at Grim Bay Stadium downtown, and the streets were packed. By the time he made it to the highway and headed south toward All Saints Federal Prison, he was 20 minutes behind schedule. The night was bitter cold, and icy rain pelted his windshield like shorthy. shooting stars. Behind the wheel, Dr. Sunday scowled. He was not in the mood to hum any hymn of worship during tonight's drive. He was jittery, fretful, troubled. And as he checked in at the gates and parked, he experienced none of his usual jubilation at the site of the prison complex or the tower rising over the central building. His feelings about the place had changed over the past

six months, especially in regard to his incarcerated patient in top of that tower. The experimental drug Sunday was giving to the inmate there had finally started working, but perhaps they had worked too well. Teeth chattering from the cold, he hurried up the steps and through the double doors, then passed through security in the atrium, and was led through the labyrinth of corridors and stairwells until he reached the tower. You were late tonight, Doc, said Edna behind her desk. When he reached the tower security room. Dr. Sunday did not respond, which suited the old woman just fine.

She hit the button to open the elevator doors, and as Sunday stepped inside, he glanced at the two armed guards in their seats with their assault rifles. They looked extra miserable tonight. No doubt they'd rather be at the stadium or watching the football game at home, anywhere but here.

Dr. Sunday couldn't blame them. The elevator closed, sealing him inside with his anxious thoughts. He straightened his tie and forced his lips to smile as the doors opened and he stepped out into the chapel. The circular room looked mostly the same as it ever had. There was the pair of burly, unarmed guards, chatting to his right. Then old Nicky Scarpenado, asleep and snoring in his bed.

His limbs restrained and his weak lips curled in an impish grin as he dreamed of God-know-nows-what depravity. Then Dermott, Smasher McMurrow in the back, sitting up with a book in his grotesquely huge hands, the mattress sagging under the immense weight of his monstrous bones and freakish muscles. There was nothing odd about those sights, and yet the atmosphere in this room today was heavy. A dark, spiritual energy hung in the air,

and Dr. Sunday was suddenly afraid to move, to turn, to look upon the last prisoner on the last bed from which that evil seemed to emanate. Telling himself that he was just being silly, the doctor turned to face Jasper David Wraith, and he froze, his mouth hanging open in confusion. It took Sunday several seconds to figure out what exactly he was seeing. Jasper, no longer dressed in a papery gown,

but in a vibrant orange jumpsuit, was out of bed, though of course his chains meant he couldn't go far. He was performing a handstand beside the bed. His bare feet in the air, arms straight, facing away from the doctor. And the whole of his weight was held up by only his splayed fingertips on the brick floor, so that his hands resembled two pale and brawny spiders. As Dr. Sunday stepped cautiously forward, Jasper bent his elbows, lowering himself gracefully to the ground, then pushing up again, down and up.

"'It's good to see your—getting your exercise, Jasper, David.' Jasper bent at the waist, setting his feet down, then stood upright, his chains rattling. He turned to face the doctor, and though there was a sheen of sweat on his gaunt, scarred face, Jasper's breathing wasn't labored at all. "'Hello, Teddy,' said Jasper, his gaze on the doctor's necktie. Dr. Sunday felt himself blushing. "'I believe it would be—' more appropriate for you to continue addressing me as doctor.

You believe all sorts of bullshit, Teddy. Jasper sat on the edge of his bed and pulled on his gray slip-on shoes. You're late. Yes, well, it's been a long, strange day. Everything feels off. Yeah, I feel it too. And when the sun was going down, I felt all. He held up a hand and wriggled his fingers.

Tingly. Dr. Sunday looked down at his briefcase. Instinct told him it was a bad idea to continue with his usual duties this evening, and that it would be reckless to give Jasper so much as one more drop of the serum. The man who were funding the research might be thrilled with the results he was now getting, but they didn't have to sit beside the patient, whose blindingly fast reflexes had returned, and whose muscles, though lacking their original bulk,

had nevertheless grown tough and tight, like coiled ropes beneath his scar-crossed skin. Bracing himself against these fears, Sunday opened his briefcase and pulled out the syringe and the little bottle. But just as he turned toward the bed, and as Jasper's eyes looked up to meet his own, the lights in the chapel went suddenly dark. Dr. Sunday gasped, and the guards both made sounds of surprise.

The lights in the tower were never turned off. They stayed bright and glaring 24-7-365. Sunday held out the syringe like a weapon, shaking in terror, and was on the verge of screaming when the lights flickered back on. Still panicked, the doctor turned in place, expecting some horrific scene of violence to have erupted in those few seconds of darkness. But all three prisoners remained in their beds, unfazed. Must have just been a... A little power surge, said Dr. Sunday.

From the winter weather, maybe. So, yes, that's all it was, mused, jazz. Jasper, and his lips twitched into something not unlike a smile. After dark, that's when she said she'd come. The doctor looked at him. What? Who? Jasper's gaze drifted up, settling on Sunday's pale and trembling face.

The Angel of Death, Sunday swallowed. Is that... Is that supposed to scare me? Jasper shrugged. He turned and pulled the top of the jumpsuit down over his shoulders, then slouched forward, exposing his upper spine. I'm ready, Teddy. Taking a shaky breath, Dr. Sunday performed the epidural injection.

Once it was finished, Jasper rebuttoned his jumpsuit, then settled back against his pillows, watching as the doctor hurriedly packed up his briefcase to leave for the night. Now that the harbinger of his emancipation was coming, and Jasper had no doubt that Yara was on her way, perhaps even already in the building, he was feeling pretty good, actually. Jasper had done a lot of waiting in this prison,

and while at first it might have felt like endless torture to his mind, that had all changed. These past six months, since Yara's visit had been different. Not only had he regained his strength, his alertness, and his ability to sense and react to any threat. His time here in All Saints had also given Jasper a new power. Patience. So while he might be eager for the night's violence to begin,

he wasn't restless or agitated at all. He was only ready. Well, I'd better hit the road before the snow gets too heavy, said Dr. Sunday, clasping shut his briefcase and adjusting his bifocals, trying to sound casual. The hammerheads are playing downtown tonight, and you know how rowdy the city gets if our team wins a home game, or if they lose, come to think of it. I plan to be safe in my bed by the time.

Behind Dr. Sunday, the elevator doors rattled. The doctor and the guards all turned to look, wondering who would be coming up at this late hour. Jasper looked too, though of course he did not have to wonder. The one-eyed she-wolf had arrived. In Jasper's eyes, her entrance seemed to happen in slow motion. The elevator doors peeling open. The armed woman springing out, turning, raising the assault. rifle held in her hands. She was dressed in all black, and for some reason, wearing a gas mask.

Before either of the guards could do anything but blink, she fired a burst of bullets into their chests and faces. They fell backward with grunts, hitting the batted walls and slumping together in a heap on the floor. In the center of the room, Dr. Sunday squealed in panic and dropped his briefcase as he raised his hands into the air. Yara spun at him, but Jasper jumped to his feet and shouted, Wait, this one is mine. Behind the plastic face shield of the gas mask, Yara looked at Jasper and nodded.

Dr. Sunday backed up, hands raised and trembling, the crotch of his pants going dark with urine as he bumped into the wall and flattened himself against it. Jasper looked from him to Yara. She reached up and removed her mask. Hey, Jasper stared at her. Hey yourself. Her face glistened with sweat,

and the scar on her left cheek stood out, dark pink against her pale skin. Her golden hair had been cut short, he saw. She had a second assault rifle slung behind one shoulder. What about them? she asked, turning to aim her gun, first at Nikki, who was awake now and sitting up on his bed. Grey teeth bared in a nervous smile. Then it's smasher, standing like a behemoth statue in the back. The big one might be useful, if he's willing to cooperate.

Jasper considered his cellmates. Then I think we'd need to take the little one, too. They're sort of a package deal. Yara lowered her gun. Three killers for the price of one? My lucky day. Smasher approached from the shadows, moving with unnerving quiet,

considering his bulk. He came right up to Jasper, looming over him. Jasper was six foot six, but two years in bed had gotten him used to looking up at people, so he wasn't especially intimidated by the eight-foot-10 prisoner. You want to get out of here? Jasper asked him. Smashers' gorilla-like face wrinkled with a crooked smile.

He lowered himself to one knee, took hold of the chain around Jasper's ankle, and snapped it with ease. As he rose and moved to unstrap Nikki from the bed, Jasper turned to the doctor flattened against the wall. What's up, Doc? Dr. Sunday shuddered, his bifocal sliding down his sweaty nose. Whatever you're doing, Jasper, do it fast, said Yara, behind him.

I deactivated the cameras in here, so we can expect security officers to be on their way to investigate. And that elevator is set to go back down in. She checked the plastic wristwatch she was wearing. Three minutes. Anybody leaving needs to be on it. Jasper's eyes locked onto the doctor's very stabable face. He doesn't deserve fast.

Well, we don't all get what we deserve, do we, Jasper? You don't need to hurt me, Mr. Raith? Stammered Dr. Sunday, holding out both hands as Jasper advanced. I'm no threat, and don't forget, it was my medication that helped you, plain and simple. Without my visits, you would still be lying in your... Jasper had snatched his fists around both of the doctor's hands and squeezed. Bones bent and tendons strained. What's the matter, Teddy? Can you feel this?

What about this? Jasper squeezed and twisted, wrenching both arms straight and snapping them backward the elbows. The doctor squealed and fell to his knees. What about this? Jasper drove his forehead down into the man's face. Well, doctor, any sensation? How about? Jasper leaned and grabbed him by his necktie and belt, and lifting him into the air, held him over his head. This! He slammed Sunday down onto the bed, smashing the mattress through the frame so that it crashed onto the floor. The doctor grunted and gasped desperately for breath. Wait, don't! He said, he was a little bit. He moaned through bloody teeth.

I know things. Jasper leaned over him, head cocked. Do you now? Let me guess. The pearly gates of paradise await me. If only I spare your life and confess my sins. But if you really believed in that, Teddy, why do you look just as afraid of death?

As anyone I've ever killed? The doctor opened his mouth, stammering. I... Jasper raised both fists into the air, bearing his teeth. as he went to strike. Your birth mother! Jasper faltered.

His arms frozen mid-air. She abandoned you, and your aunt said that she overdosed, but that was a lie. Jasper lowered his arms. What are you talking about? Wincing in pain, the doctor sat up. I found her.

Her name. Teddy Sunday's face imploded as Yara's bullet punched through it. His neck snapped back, and his broken body flopped onto the mattress. Jasper's eyes bulged. He spun to Yara, but she aimed at him and shouted, We need to go right now.

But he said, think, Jasper. He was just trying to distract you, to waste your time until security gets here. Don't you see that? Jasper stood rooted in place, his chest rising and falling. Come on, said Yara, lowering the rifle. He watched her walk to the elevator and get in.

Smasher and Nikki were already inside. The former giggling excitedly, the latter crouched. He could barely fit. It's now or never. Jasper groaned through clenched teeth, then moved to join them, squeezing into the last bit of space beside Yara. He could feel his arm against his and smell her perfume. I missed you, Yara whispered.

Jasper's eyes twitch. I still hate you. She sniffed a little laugh. I know. And... He went on, feeling his cheeks growing warm. I think your long hair looked better. Yara sighed.

So do I. The elevator doors closed. Fuck, thought Jasper. What had possessed him to say that thing about her hair. Idiot. Yara looked up and arounded the three of them. Do you all know what they call you guys online? The slasher, the smasher, and the Christmas cannibal.

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which Yara had already cleared, and onto the stairs that spiraled down to the prison proper, she removed the second rifle from her shoulder and held it out for Jasper to take. You said you'd get me blades. and I've arranged for that. But first we need to get to the basement of the St. Mark's wing, so take it. Jasper did so, wensing at the feel of the unwieldy instrument of war in his hands.

Any asshole could pull a trigger. Where was the fun in that? As they approached the bottom of the stairs, a group of guards with drawn pistols moved into view from down the hall. Yara was ready for this and fired a spray of bullets. The guards fell back, shouting to one another. It's fine, it's fine, Yara assured the three killers with her, with surprising casualness. Let's just back up a few steps and stay out of range.

This little standoff here won't last long. We just need to wait a minute. Wait for what? growled Jasper, as Yara sat on a step and chucked her watch. For the next part of my plan, I told you, I've been setting this up for a long time. And what exactly is the plan? All you need to do is stay close and protect me in Kareel until we're out to. side. A few stares up, smasher grunted softly to Jasper. Jasper assumed this meant that he too

wanted to know the plan. The big guy's eyes were watching Yara, while one giant arm held back Nikki, who was giggling, the torn sleeves of his straight jacket dangling to his feet, as he tried to clamber up the wall to catch a cockroach crawling on the bricks. Yara, we aren't doing anything until you tell us how this is going down. Fine, Yara said, exhaling. Below them, the shadows of the guards were creeping from around the corner again. Yara fired another quick burst, and they retreated. She turned to address Jasper.

We're taking advantage of the unique setup of the All Saints complex. You see, this is not your average run-of-the-mill prison. When the feds set it up 25 years ago, it was designed to hold some of the most violent and vengeful mobsters on the East Coast. But they didn't have the budget for standard security measures, and everything was done on the cheap. The cell doors are all electromagnetic, and if the power is cut,

and the backup generators are sabotaged, the locks fail, and the doors in here can all be forced open. You sure about that? The architect himself explained it all to me, Yara told him, just before I shot him. And you've got a team on the outside that's about to cut the power? She checked her watch again.

In two minutes and counting, yeah. So then, everyone can just get out of their soul, So, just like that. That sounds like a big security flaw. Yara grinned slightly. It would be, but the prison has a protocol if that ever happens. See, they're counting on the violent criminals in this place to act like, well, like violent criminals. When the lights go out and the inmates start to realize they can leave their cells, it will quickly devolve into an all-out war between rival factions. All guards and prison staff are trained to barricade themselves in the security rooms and call the city police for backup. They'll wait it out. They'll let the carnage happen.

And once the herd has thinned out and the riot police arrive, then they storm the place and gather up any prisoners that have survived. Jasper crossed his arms. Uh-huh. And this is how you plan to get us out of here? She shrugged. We just have to get down to solitary, find Carrille, fight our way to the atrium, and walk right out the front doors. Charlie's already waiting in the parking lot, ready to drive us to a safe house. Pretty cool, huh? Pretty insane, said Jasper. Even if everything goes right, there'll be an army of cops waiting outside the prison gates to stop us. Oh, that, said Yara. Actually, the police will be rather busy tonight. Most of the force is already over at Grim Bay Stadium for the big Hammerheads game. That crowd always tends to get rowdy,

and when, in 45 seconds, somebody calls in a... a very credible sounding bomb threat to the stadium. Well, the cops will have their hands full dealing with the evacuation of 80,000 terrified fans. They'll get to All Saints eventually, but we'll be long gone by then. You've thought of everything, to Jasper, convinced that, even if this were true. She hadn't told him everything, and that she might not have any plan to take Jasper with her if they made it, much less his two cellmates. Yara shrugged. I've done my best, but there's a There's still the little matter of, you know, the thousand homicidal inmates who will be swarming

through these halls, and who will stop at nothing to kill a Volkov. That's why I need you. Jasper bowed his head to her ear. But why do I need you? What's stopping me from going to the front doors as soon as the power's out? Yara smirked. Good luck finding it. This place?

It's designed to mess with your head. It's a maze, Jasper. There's no simple path from point A to point Z, and it'll be dark. and chaotic, but I know where to go. I've studied it for months. Every hall, every cell, every shower, I've got it all mapped out. She tapped her head, right here. We need each other for this to work. Fair enough, Jasper thought. But once it worked when they were out, it would make the first move to take out the other. That was a game he and Yara had played once before, ending in a stalemate that had each mistaken for a victory. A rematch seemed appropriate.

Okay, then, Jasper nodded, flexing the muscles in his arms and legs, prepping them for battle. Let the games begin. Outside the prison, snow had begun to fall in earnest, dimming the beams of the spotlights with a billion swirling flakes. In the guard towers on the wall, the guards sat shivering and breathing into their cupped hands. Most were watching the football game on their phones, and super stressed about how much they wagered on a victory for the hammerheads. So it took them a moment to register. that every light in the prison complex had just suddenly gone out. In an instant, all saints had been cast into the Dark Ages, as it were, reverting that bastille of modern punishment back into an antique

maze of murky corridors. Only the men now emerging from the cells were not monastics, and the sharp and deadly objects they carried were certainly not rosaries, and they were definitely not on their way to confess to sins, but to commit them. Jasper followed Yarrow through an an echoey hallway, around a corner, and down a staircase leading into musty darkness. They had switched on the flashlights at the end of each assault rifle, and used these beams to navigate the cursed labyrinth, shadowy figures scurrying out of cells around them, looking for enemies, or rushing to join allies. It had all happened fast, the panic, the guards running to seal themselves in their security rooms, the many whispered oaths of retribution

from prisoners as they seized the weapons hidden in their cells and charged. arched into the darkness. Skirmishes were already breaking out all over. They could hear them echoing through the building. Shouts and grunts and furniture being moved to make barriers. Ahead of them, a prisoner emerged from the darkness coming up the stairs. He blinked in their flashlight beams, startled, and raised a wooden shiv. Yara took him out.

Hurry up, you two! Yara called back at Smashers and Nikki, as she and Jasper reached the bottom of the stairs. The four moved on. passing into a low-ceilinged hall. Ten bodies lay in bloody pools on the floor. Jasper aimed his flashlight at the corpses. All their throats had been cut. Yara was right.

This place really had devolved into an all-out war and quickly. Where exactly are we going? Just through here! Yara led them to the end of the hall, where a pair of heavy double doors were closed. Jasper pushed on them, but they didn't move. Someone's barricaded the other side. It's not budging.

Yara didn't seem too concerned. Mr. McMurrow, she said, turning to their massive companion. Would you mind, you know, living up to your nickname? Smasher nodded, and as he stomped quickly toward the doors, Jasper moved aside, expecting to see the huge man give the doors a few good shoves. Instead, Smasher did not slow down, but marched stoically onward, moving through the doors. That'll work, said Yara, raising her gun. They entered a vast, low room.

Jasper aimed his rifle left and right, its flashlight beam glinting in dark droplets of water that dripped from cracks in the ceiling. At the edges of the room, just visible in the dimness, many bunks had been stacked against the walls. Jasper squinted and thought he could see motion as if men were crouched and waiting to attack. This looks like a trap, he whispered to Yara.

It's a business meeting. Jasper watched as Yara walked into the center of the open cell block, and lowered her rifle. It's all come to pass like my message has said it would, she called out. There was a heavy moment of silence, then. What is the golden rule? Called a deep voice from somewhere in the darkness.

That those who carry the golden guns make their own rules, Yara answered. Jasper didn't know what the hell to make of any of that, but whatever it meant, it caused dozens of prisoners from every side to climb out from the piled bunks and collect in a half-circle. around Yara. Jasper walked up to her side, his finger ready on the trigger.

Are these guys friends of yours? he asked her in a whisper, scanning the men around them, who were all black with dreadlocks and rather impressive muscles. New business associates, Yara told him. Jasper, hand them your rifle. Jasper whipped his head to look at her. What? She nodded. If you want blades, then this is the price. His face twitched in frustration, but he obeyed, handing the gun to a man in front of him. The gang began to chuckle and clap each other on the shoulders. Yara gave them two additional clips of ammo. Then the crowd parted, and a short man in the apron of a kitchen worker stepped forward

and laid a long package rolled in cloth at Jasper's feet. With that done, the men turned as one and moved off down another hall. How do we know they won't use that to shoot us in a couple minutes? Jasper asked Yara. because there are 200 racist skinheads upstairs, and the golden gunners would much rather use the bullets on the members of Skull 18 than on us. Now then, my gift to you. She aimed her rifle's flashlight at the package on the ground.

Jasper crouched, took hold of the corners of the fabric, and unrolled it. Metal objects clinging and clanged, glinting like treasure in Jasper's vision. It wasn't exactly the best weaponry he had ever seen, but it would do. do. Jasper picked up a pair of long iron nails, sharpened into deadly spice, and shoved them through the edges of his jumpsuit for easy storage. Then he did the same with two prison-made knives. Finally, he grabbed the last item, a large, beautifully sharpened meat cleaver with a wooden handle. He gripped it in the palm of his right hand, and for the second time that night, Jasper felt his heart swell as he reunited with an old love. Lead the way, he said to you.

rising to his feet. I need to try this thing out. A dozen prisoners, each bearing the distinct tattoo of a deer skull and antlers upon their left cheek, had gotten themselves lost in the lower levels of the St. Mark's wing, while seeking out their rivals and lost Piranhas for a bit of bloody revenge. As these men bickered amongst themselves and fought over who would get to hold the flashlight they had taken from a dead CO upstairs, one of them shushed the others. Sh, you guys hear that?

It's coming from over there. They went quiet, and sure enough, the sound of a scuffle in a nearby corridor reached their ears. It sounded like a few guys were laughing and trying to force a door open, and there was another noise. Is that crying? Who's there crying like a little bitch? I think the solitary unit's down that way, so you know who it probably is. That Russian kid, Volkov. They're going to rip that sissy into little pieces.

This elicited amused chuckles from the group, though their merriment was cut short when the man holding the flashlight suddenly gasped and aimed the beam at the hall behind them. The gangster spun, holding up their makeshift weapons as a lone figure approached from the darkness, walking casually forward. Who the hell are you? The figure halted. He was tall and thin. His arms crossed behind his back, his face downcast. Jasper, David, Wraith. The gang shifted on their feet, tightening their ranks, and casting one another worried glances. And what gang are you with?

Name your allegiance! Jasper smiled, and spreading his arms, revealed a knife in one hand, and the cleaver in the other. I just did! The sundown slasher darted forward, moving so fast that in the time it took to blink, He had stabbed one man through the throat and slashed another across the stomach. Someone lunged, grunting, as they swung a club at their attacker, but Jasper lurched sideways, their weapon whipping by his face and severed the man's arm with the flick of the cleaver. The gangster with a flashlight tripped in his rush to escape the carnage, and a flashlight

clattered to the floor, where it was kicked by many feet as the inmates panicked. Some tried to fight, some tried to flee, others frozen place. On the corridor walls, the flickering shadows cast by the wildly spinning flashlight showed bodies in motion, clubs and shivs flying from their hands as they died, hands flying from arms too, and a few heads rolling off their shoulders. At last, a final streak of blood splashed upon the dusty floor, and the screaming died away. Jasper straightened up. His shadow from the flashlight was huge on the wall behind him.

He was panting a little, but hey, he was out of practice. All clear, he said to the darkness. A beam of light clicked on and came toward him. Yara, holding her rifle, then smash her, then Nikki. Nice work, said Yara. How do you feel? Jasper considered the question. Like myself.

He turned and looked toward the adjacent hall. Yara did too, aiming her gun so that its beam illuminated the words, solitary confinement unit above the passage. From which there wafted, the odors of the air. of rotten flesh and sewage. Jasper found the smell's stomach turning and a little nostalgic. Keep watch, Yara told him, I'll be right back, and she moved determinedly into the rank passageway. Jasper watched her disappear down the hall, then turned in place. These lower levels seemed to be empty for now, but through the ceiling overhead, the sound of battle was getting louder by the

minute. Glancing over at his fellow Trinity members, he saw that old Nikki was trying to get to one of the bodies on the floor. Smasher was pinching the back of his straitjacket to hold him back. Why aren't you guys helping more? Jasper asked them. Smasher shrugged, then pantomimed, breaking down a door with one hand. Yeah, yeah, said Jasper, rolling his eyes, but he was hard to be mad. His heart was still racing in his chest, adrenaline coursing through every vein like an electric

surge. His skin itched with the urge to move on, to get to the next fight, to face the next foe. Gunfire sounded from the solitary unit. Interesting. That was probably just Yara taking out a few random psychos. But he did wonder, briefly, and without much hope, if she had just shot her brother instead, the thought made him happy.

What if that had been Yara's plan all along? To avenge Jaspers' tumble over that railing, to cut her last tie to her old life, to the life she had led before she met him, before he showed her the way of the slasher, and the two of them had shared the joy of the slaughter. Was tonight's bloodshed reminding Yara of that fateful day? That's what it was doing to Jasper.

He could suddenly recall all these little details he had forgotten about, picking her up in the park, stabbing her Aunt Zoya through the brain, watching Yara shoot her cousin, what's his name, Pasha or Masha or something, as he sat on a toilet. Jasper had been so proud of her. And, sure, at the end of the night, they had tried to murder each other. But up until that moment, until she revealed the depth of her deceit and shot Jasper in the stomach, well, it really had been a beautiful day, the best of his life. His musings were cut short as footsteps sounded from the hall. Turning, he watched the little light on Yarra's assault rifle rocking back and forth as it came nearer, until, feeling his guts clench, Jasper saw that Yara was not alone,

but supporting an unsteady prisoner at her side. As they came closer, Jasper took her. insulted his head, examining Kirill Volkov. He had considered the possibility that Kirill would attack Jasper when he saw him, but any worry of that now vanished from Jasper's mind. The inmate who Yara now held upright looked almost nothing like the one who had been so cocky and aggressive on the balcony that day. This man was little more than a skeleton in a filthy jumpsuit.

His eyes sunk in, his arms shaking. He's going to pass out. Help me! Yara grunted, struggling to keep Karol. on his feet. Jasper didn't move, but Smashers stomped over, bending to fit his bulk under the low ceiling, and scooped the frail figure of Karil Volkov into his giant arms to carry him. Come on! Yara barked, turning and hurrying back the way they had come. We are leaving this fucking place! Right now! Jasper grinned, wiping his blades against his

jumpsuit as he followed her. They ascended the stairs in a tight group, as from up ahead, The sounds of a vicious battle echoed through the prison halls, calling to him. Curious how Yara sees it? Head over to my other channel, After Dark. The links in the description below.