DORAN, LI CHI AND THE ASIANS who remained back in A-Block witnessed more than forty dead massacred Blacks biting the dust in the open yard — it was a field day for the laughing Ramirez and his Hispanics while they fired in automatic...

"Keep coming you Niggers — eat my bullets you pieces of black motherfucking shit — Hajja you bitch, you are dead today!"

Li Chi soon glanced across the Hispanic compound and saw three figures climbing the wall of F-Block — he recognized the shrewd culprit...

"That looks like Jensen over there — the coward is trying to desert fighting by jumping over the wall."

Doran observed the trio who were traversing on the roof of F-Block — running towards the nearby watchtower...

"Maybe not — Reeves is trying to hit and take out the tower."

Li Chi then turned to Wu Leong — and he gave a similar command in Chinese. "Get a few of the boys and go up the roof of this block — and go take out the other tower guard."

The coup de main Blacks finally penetrated B-Block — where Ramirez and his surviving gang were holed. A fierce gun battle salvo was extended with heavy casualties on both sides inside the building.

"Ramirez, we are out of bullets!" cried his lieutenant and Ramirez too was on empty — the Hispanic leader shrieked to his men after seeing the nearing Blacks' decisive victory...

"Let's run!"

Capt. Olsen who sanctioned the weapons for them had allotted the Latinos with limited bullets supplies so that they would fight the Blacks to their death — she wanted to get even at the warden — by having her spic lover-boy dead in prison yard battlefield...

The handful of Hispanic survivors ascended up to the higher tier using the stairs — the Blacks now occupying the entire ground floor of B-Block. The Jamaicans were laughing while they fired at the remaining handful of their foes ascending...

"See dat, Mon, Ramirez is running away — like a headless-chicken hoe!"

Hajja stepped up, and he ordered Zinga...

"Get the men and go after them — but, bring me back Ramirez alive!"

Zinga the Black loyalist assembled his Jamaican posse — they pursued after the fleeing Latinos.

*

Reeves reached the edge of the roof, but the watchtower was twenty-foot higher — it was also forty feet away from where he stood — they could not get a clear shot at the tower-guard above.

After seeing the situation, Marlin walked away, leaving the other two androgynous behind, who were now arguing whether to go down to the yard ground and then scale up the wall of the tower — it was the only rational option even though it would be time-consuming.

"Where is Marlin?" Reeves looked behind at the slanting roof.

"Oh fuck, did he fall off the roof?" Troy was worried...

Then, they found Marlin's bobos and they both looked around — and he was not in sight. They searched on the other side of the roof and spotted Marlin had deviated — and was now balancing himself on the taut power-cable line that ran across the yard...

He was half the way walking on the cable like an acrobat on a tightrope...

"Marlin! What, is he crazy?"

"Shh, don't break his concentration..."

Reeves said calmly, as he held onto Troy's arm to silence him — they both noticed the imperturbable blond youth was in the deep zone of focused concentration — laying each careful foot down and advanced in lithe...

The doughty blond truncated closer, and the next plumbed forward about ten feet towards the tower wall — he gripped firmly onto the watchtower's wall. The hanging Marlin then started to scale up, with sturdy grips on to the vertical surface...

"Holy mother of the Monkey God!" exclaimed Troy in disbelief, seeing the blond now halfway up with simian-like legerity.

They both watched in the fascination of Marlin's agility, and the inner-strength that he possessed — unknowing to both of them were those years in isolation in the cell, where Marlin had daily perfected his enlightenment in the Eastern disciplines and exercises of mentally, physically and spiritually.

*

In a similar situation, Wu Leong and six Chinese triad members were on the rooftop of C-Block — and they too could not get a clean shot at Guard Preslie Baker who was perched on the nearest watchtower.

One of them cursed aloud — and Preslie turned back, looked down at the seven Asian shemales on the roof of the block below her...

"Hello there Chinos, come grab some tofu..."

Her machine gun opened fire and killed the loud-mouth Chinese — while the rest took cover and returned fire.

At the other watchtower, Marlin clambered in a hurry to the top before he jumped inside — he sneaked, wrested the surprised guard from behind, with a choke-hold. He snapped her neck with a vigorous twist.

Marlin picked up a high calibre rifle and looked into the scope...

He saw Guard Preslie Baker's back turned while shooting at the Asians on C Block's roof. Marlin had to kill the experience trained sniper when she was in laxity — and not cognizant that she was his target...

Marlin pulled the trigger — his neophyte's shot missed — and so did the consequent firings...

Guard Preslie Baker realized the cross-section shots were coming from the other adjacent tower — and she placed the machine gun down on the rack — and picked up one of her two sniper-rifles.

She positioned herself, peering through her scope...

She spied the blond-haired Marlin on the tower instead of a female tower-guard. Preslie grinned before she pulled the trigger. Her shot too missed but it was close — Marlin took cover — more near-hitting relinquish blasts were wrecking the towering pillar, and ricocheting around with zings.

The tower guard was grunting in her own frustration when her weapon chambers emptied — she tossed the prison-issued rifle down and...

... picked up her old faithful Beretta rifle — that she once employed in winning her gold medal — in the 2012 London Olympics Games...

'So the shemale wants to play.'

She loaded a fresh clip and talked into her walkie-talkie...

"Hey you, golden-boy, you sure got balls!" She was amused by her game-hunting thoughts...

Guard Presley switched on her iPod to the Olympics' medal giving ceremony event — and places it to the 2-way radio...

Marlin heard the recorded cheering from his end...

The sniper next slipped on the gold medal ribbon on her neck proudly; she was determined to give her prey a bang for the buck as the nation's once Olympic champion shooter, that she once was — with her intention of planting a bullet between the convict's eyes...

The Intersexual hunter who a moment ago who wanted to snipe her down — was now the hunted...

Marlin heard the Olympic announcement crackling further from his side via the dead guard's radio device — he knew the sniper was trying to psyche him when he then next heard her...

"Are you a good shooter, Blondie? Come, try me..."

The only shooting experience he had was when he was twelve — at the amusement arcade, where he used to take Suki, his once girlfriend back then in Washington D.C. — hoping to win her a stuffed animal toy — to impress her and to get laid.

But, this was the moment of truth for him — where he was on a watchtower now and was not in a games arcade — the prize was to kill the enemy — and not to score blowjobs...

The opponent he now mettle to face was a proven expert sniper — with his past discernment that she was a precision sharp-shooter, who accurately target practised with birds on the wire in the squall season. He was at the disadvantage now — so, he would have to need a different mindset to kill an expert...

'How?'

Some random thoughts came into his head, during their desperate game of wits and quickness...

'Can she nail a fish called Marlin?'

It was his piscine nickname, his guardian Dr Jane Morris had given him because when he was growing up — he was as slippery as a fish in getting out of badly behaved situations back then — and also, it was in memory of the doctor's late husband — who was an avid deep-sea angler; whom Marlin had only known him through the photographs...

Jane Morris had sometimes quoted her husband's words to him many times — about the virtue of patience in fishing — to counter his instant gratification demands in the past. Subsequently, the Buddhist faith that he converted into later in life and, had also had taken him a phase further, even deeper with the practice of that similar virtue of patience...

He reloaded a new clip that he found near the dead guard's stool. Every inmate below in the prison blocks watched the two of them trying to outdo each other. Marlin stood up behind the bulwark — he positioned the rifle-butt onto his shoulder, stared into the magnifying scope and he spotted Preslie Baker equally in the similar ready position and was peering back on her own scope.

They both fired in successions...

Marlin had the advantage of the east tower, where the morning sun was in position behind him — but, it was glaring for the champion who was in the adjacent, looking into the rifle scope...

The sun also caught the Olympic gold medal that she wore — a gilded glint — was spotted on Marlin's scope...

He focused on the glittering flash — and pulled the trigger...

His shot fell flat, and Marlin then took a half-step to his left for cover before Preslie Baker shot back at him. She also missed and cursed to herself, which he heard on the two-way radio...

Marlin lingered in patience just like Jane Morris had imparted — lagged in the perseverance of patience — he focused for the next glint of the gold medal, reflected from the sun — and he then took a rigour chanced shot...

Guard Preslie Baker was thrown back to the back wall — she fell over, knocking down the hanging photos of herself. She laid on the floor of the watchtower in a semi-seated position — gasping deep for breath, and peering numb at her own blood-splats on the Olympic medal ceremony photos-frames, scattered down beside her...

There was a hole in her gold medal that hung over her diaphragm — Marlin's shot had hollowed her prized medal into a smoulder ring...

She heard the Star Spangled Banner anthem on the iPod with the sound of the crowd cheering both at the medal receiving ceremony at the stadium in 2012 — and also, from the rebel prisoners below the watchtower...

The voices from the Tombscradle blocks were all celebrating Marlin's efficacious marksman hit.

The recumbent former Olympian was dying slowly, by the borrowed seconds on the floor — gasping hard with a large messy exit-hole on her back.