THE BLACKS IN THE CELLS of B-block were released by the Jamaicans — feeling liberated and the hundreds manumit Negros were crying out in celebration stepping out of their cells — but for Zinga, it was far from attaining freedom...

He now hurried to lead them all back to the others, who were holed in A-block.

"Come, everyone, let's go to Hajja!"

Ramirez looked out of his barred window — and he witnessed hundreds of Blacks freed from B-block — he was furious and wrecked his belongings inside his cell. After the flail rage, he turned to look out annoyed at his barred cell door — and found Capt. Olsen shoring her subordinates on the melee with her walkie-talkie, while peering out of the window with a pair of binoculars.

The Hispanic leader called out to the brass repeatedly...

"Capt. Olsen, come here! Capt. Olsen!"

The annoyed Captain of Guards yelled back...

"What is it, you fucking shit-bag of Pinto beans?"

She marched with her baton towards his cell to accost — but Ramirez appealed instead...

"Sir put me through the Warden — I got a proposition for her."

The derisive captain mocked...

"Fuck you, Ramirez! We are in the middle of a major crisis here, and the Warden has got a thousand things going on right now — giving you, a blow-job isn't one of them!"

The disgruntled Aryan captain knew recently about the surreptitious appointments the warden made with the leader of the Hispanics so that they fornicate in her swanky office.

Warden Emma Graves had disreputed herself by her weakness, of stooping low for her personal carnal pleasures with an inferior Intersexual-being. It was a besmirching behaviour that was ignominious for the supposed warden — who was a White — and, the alleged leader of the dominant females in the penitentiary.

Olsen hated them both, her superior and Ramirez in her heart...

"Look here Capt. Olsen, those spear-chuckers are now freely roaming from their barracoons — there is no way your Kitty-kitty guards can stop those hundreds of them out there. Those Niggers there are stone-cold, hardcore killers from the streets — and soon, your guards will be taking 'dirt nap by the dozens.

"Now, go and tell Warden Graves — that I am willing to fight them on your side!"

"It ain't nothing, asshole — the Warden has already requested for help — and the Governor will be sending us back up in the hour," laughed the captain in rancour while she walked away swaggering. Ramirez from behind warned the prideful woman...

"What happens if that help comes late? Those Niggers are not gonna be moon-cricketing rap music in the yard — they are gonna fucking come inside in here, and they will kill us all — including yours, and my own people too...

"Release us now Captain — and, let us have a fighting chance to defend Tombscradle like the once Alamo!"

Olsen kept walking and spurn in more prideful flagrant — as she overruling his opine...

"Your fuck-say is not happening ese — we will have got it all under control. You 'Chunti' fucks can stay put there in your 'canton,' and continue your regular siestas — meanwhile, if you are really-really bored — just crap a pile of brown chipotle in the can, and play patty-cake with it on your crib wall."

"Don't be a fool, Capt. Olsen! Think hard — those coons together with the Whites — it will be more than 1000 of them motherfuckers running out wild out there soon — do you think you can you hold the fort till that Governor's backup cavalry arrives?

"Then that Preacher, he would then come over here soon — and first, he will find you!"

Ramirez now laughed in incendiary at the imprudent captain...

"Yeah, go ahead walk away, Olsen — have you forgotten that you did a cracker on the Preacher's back by whipping him raw, and you left him bleeding in the yard. Yeah, he will come here alright, and he gonna love slicing your big butt up slowly with a blunt butter knife for that," the Hispanic leader reminded.

The scare-mongering roused Olsen's fear spot — but at the same time — she stopped to think of disaster from the throng of 500 blood thirsting Hispanic inmates running on a killing spree, shooting down everything at sight.

"Fuck that! It will be a total fiesta of chaos if your screwing 'ganga' too were all out now!"

The captain thought her logic out aloud — Ramirez countered her...

"Okay, then let me hand-pick 50 of my finest Chicanos soldiers — and, you then arm us — I will lead the attack myself, and I will get the job done...

"Come on Boss, I can do this because I have been fighting those Niggers in the streets since I was a kid...

"Now trust me Capt. Olsen — I can get the job done for you!"

*

The three female guards who locked themselves in the bulletproof guard station in C-block kept peering at the staring Caucasian Intersexuals rebels outside — then, one of them uttered...

"Oh fuck me! Now, who are the prisoners here?"

"Sarge, why has backup not arrived?" asked the other edgy woman — and before the superior officer could answer her, the soft boarded ceiling collapsed by the ruse surprise attack...

Reeves and True Bob plunged over them, knocking down the two guards inside the enclosed booth. The sergeant whipped out her pistol and shot back — hitting True Bob in the arm...

Reeves was lying on the fallen ceiling fragments — he instantly perforce with his unerring shot, hitting the woman's shoulder, disarming the sergeant. The two other fallen guards instantly dropped their guns and capitulated themselves in defeat...

"Please don't kill us, we surrender!"

Reeves pointed the pistol to their faces...

"You! Open that door."

The rest of the White Intersexuals stepped into the guard room, picking up the guns of the surrendered women.

Reeves warned the White Intersexuals...

"These are my prisoners — do not kill them!"

Reeves made clear of his justified inviolate prude action — that the unarmed female guards' lives were to be spared — because just minutes ago, he recalled witnessing the captured medical women at the auditorium who were left behind, bleeding to their death — the Jamaican assassin named Busta smiled nefariously at the appalled Reeves, while he carved Nurse Heller and her two medical assistants' throats with Corporal Vinnie's bow knife — secretly away from Doran's knowledge — before the other Jamaicans set the place on fire with a few vats of medical alcohol.

"Bob, are you alright?"

Reeves went over and sat him on the stool. The half-Cherokee grinned at his flesh wound...

"It is not so bad — looks like I will live."

Reeves used the butt of his pistol, to break a locked glass panel on the wall — and he then tossed a medical first-aid kit pack to Oliver who was nearby...

"Please tend to Bob."

He next pointed his gun audaciously at the wounded sergeant who was the nearest to the control panel table...

"Hey you, release all the prisoners in C-Block now!"