The Rise of Blackdeep Ch. 01

It was a beautiful day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Jim sipped his coffee as the ferry bobbed gently by the pier. He checked his watch. Things were now officially behind schedule, and he was starting to get stressed. Blackdeep Prison was supposed to run like a watch, but on the other hand he knew the power of wealth and decided to wait. The three new prisoners had arrived last week amid a storm of media coverage. The trial and prosecution of the eponymous heads of Murphy, Murphy and Short, an investments firm that had turned out to be a cover for a ponzi scheme that made Bernie Madoff look like a kid stealing a nickel from his moms purse, had been at the center of attention for the last year and a half.

He shifted his paunchy frame and wished things would hurry the fuck up. Today was his last day as the Boat Bitch, as the job was called. The task was widely known to be the worst in the prison, due to the fact that half of the time was spent in a state of mind crushing boredom, and the other fifty percent was spent either on a boat with only a cage to separate you from the cargo of pissed convicts, or cleaning the boat after it had been occupied by the aforementioned hoard of shameless, seasick, possibly intoxicated men.

At least today wasn't that bad though, as he got to see some of what he craved most, female flesh, The regular crowd of women in the boat were all black, and all dressed like skanks. Normally he didn't care for darker women, but he couldn't help but admire the plump rumps on display. He was practically gawping at them even though he thought he was being subtle. One of the girls glanced at him and said something he couldn't hear and they all started giggling and looking his way. He turned away, embarrassed, just in time to see the Rolls Royce pull up.

The enormous car dwarfed the rustmobiles the other girls had arrived in, and they all had a look of petty jealousy on their faces as the chauffer climbed out and quickly walked around to open the back.

A tall, stately looking women in her late 30s stepped out of the back. Her long auburn hair was done up in a tight bun, exactly the same color as the enormous fox fur coat that covered her entire body, leaving only a few inches of ankle and some respectable beige pumps bare. She carried herself with the air of someone who had gotten want she wanted since day one. She strutted up to Jim.

"I'm Olivia Short. Take me to my husband," she commanded. She was very beautiful in an extremely posh way, with dark, oval eyes, an arrogant aquiline nose and rich full lips. Jim stuttered back,

"Uh, hi Mrs. Short. We're still waiting on a few more, but the boat is ready if you'd like to climb aboard." She gave a disgusted look at the ferry, with its caged cockpit that clearly marked it as a vehicle intended for the transport of criminals, and the whore-looking women already on board. There was a moments silence, then Jim said "...Can I get you a coffee?" as he held up his stinky cup of instacrap. She gave him a withering glare that redefined condescension as he knew it, then climbed on the boat, standing pointedly apart from the other women.

Ten more minutes passed, and he grew extremely agitated. He knew he was going to get in trouble for being this far behind schedule, even though the only alterative would have been to abandon the VIPs. He was starting to seriously consider doing just that when the Bugatti's pulled up.

He stood open mouthed as the two hot pink supercars pulled up next to the Rolls and the beaters the hoes had arrived in. His jaw practically fell to the ground as the creatures inside emerged.

As the first women climbed out of the car the first thing Jim saw was a pair of immaculately toned, lightly tanned legs, from silver roman sandal style stilettoes to mid thigh. Then the rest of the figure came in to view and Jim had to stifle a gasp. It was not the magnificent bust, nor the slim waist and wide hips that promised a wonderful bubble butt. It was her face. As he took in her features, her pale blue cat eyes, her weapons-grade DSLs, her small mischievous nose, all framed by light gold hair, he practically drowned in her beauty. Then he was hit by a sudden jolt as he realized that he recognized that face. He was dimly aware that a raven-haired girl had emerged from the other car, but all he could think of was the blond and the twisting tingling feeling he was getting in the pit of his stomach. As she came within hailing distance he gave a flappy wave and called out to her,

"Hey Jenelle!?" His voice cracked.

Even under their London-fog style coats, Jim was struck by their bodies as the two women sauntered up.

"Jim?" she asked in a tone of amused confusion.

Jim felt adrenaline surge from the pit of his stomach and his legs turn to jelly as the women responsible for both the most arousing and the most humiliating moments of his life approached.

Jenelle Winters had gone to the same high school as Jim Cunningham. She had been best friends with the dark-haired Sasha Kapowski, (who was currently standing slightly off to the side with an amused look on her face). Even then both girls had been gorgeous, and both knew it. They had been the most popular in the school. Jim had not. In fact, he had pretty much been a joke. Jenelle and Sasha spent their four years perfecting the art of manipulating men, then graduated and immediately started digging for gold. They had climbed the ladder of steadily richer boyfriends until one of the suckers had made the mistake of introducing them to his bosses, the Murphys, at an office Christmas party. They had quickly become involved with the much older billionaires, and, realizing they had hit the jackpot, got them to propose. Jenelle had spent the next few years living the trophy wife lifestyle she had always dreamed of in a huge mansion, while her friend Sasha did the same next door.

Jenelle's husband Charles Murphy and Don Murphy, Sasha's husband, were actually unrelated, even though they had the same last name. They had started a business together, which had steadily grown until they came to the attention of the already established old-money Albert Short, who took them under his wing and eventually merged their companies and made them his partners.

Jenelle had opted not to change her name, as she privately thought Murphy was a stupid name, and Sasha had actually taken the opportunity to change her last name to Sterling, which she thought sounded better.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she laughed.

"Uh, I'm a guard," he said unnecessarily, given his uniform.

"Haha how did that happen?"

Jim blushed as the fairly deep-rooted psychological reasons he had for being a guard surfaced. Reasons she, and, to a lesser extent Sasha, had played a key role in.

He stood there at a loss for words until Jenelle made a big show of being awkward and said, "...Okay... Well, we should probably get going, you're running pretty late." With that, she strode off toward the boat.

"Good to see you Jim," spoke Sasha for the first time, her husky voice borderline mocking in tone. Then she turned and followed Jenelle.

They had both known about their husbands corruption, but, as they were directly benefiting from it opted to only get some quiet advice from their lawyers about having things put in their name and making sure they would be unconnected when the inevitable happened. Fortunately it had happened in slow motion, and the corporate thieves had time to transfer most of their wealth over to their wives. Then they had been sentenced and sent to the Clearwell Rehabilitation Institute. There they had visited their husbands regularly, partly out of the fondness that had developed over the years and partly because they knew they would lose everything if they left.

Clearwell had originally been the home of Albert Short's great great grandfather, which was bitterly ironic. However, that meant staying there had not been that bad, as the estate had not lost much of its luxuriousness upon its conversion to a white collar prison a few years ago. They were allowed free roam of the grounds and had a gym, good food and an Internet connection. It wasn't a prison so much as a pretty good resort that you couldn't leave.

They had stayed there for the better part of the year, when a routine inspection revealed the historic buildings had alarming levels of radon and were evacuated immediately. Because of the low threat level of the prisoners staying there, most had either been temporarily released on parole or put under house arrest. Murphy, Murphy and Short had not been so lucky. Their crime had caused such a scandal that the 99% were baying for blood, and no one could stand up to that kind of pressure.

Thus they were transferred to Blackdeep.

Olivia Short stood at the prow of the boat, fingering her pearls and looking at the island with apprehension. Sasha and Jenelle stood nearby talking excitedly about something. She had gotten to know the younger women well, especially in the time since their husbands had been busted, though they were not exactly friends. Unlike Jen and Sash she came from money and had married out of love, and she felt it was necessary to keep a certain distance from the girls to remind them they were new money. Also unlike Jen and Sash she had not known about her husbands wrongdoings until the day the whistle blew. This, combined with her love for her husband meant she was taking things much harder then the younger women, another reason they didn't quite connect.

She saw that stupid little man in the pilots cage, looking fairly ruffled by something.

Then she turned and looked back at the island.

Blackdeep Prison was a much older, and historical place then Clearwater. It was also much larger. The island it was situated on was a few miles out in the bay and had originally been used as an obsidian mine by the natives hundreds of years ago. During colonization they had turned it into a fortress to ward off the invaders, as it was their only source of the obsidian they made their weapons from. Eventually they were pushed back, and the colonials quickly took over. They were astonished at how deep the natives had dug, and at the glossy blackness of the obsidian walls, which they had never seen in the old world. That was when the island earned its name of Blackdeep, and the colonials quickly adopted the fortress as their own and expanded and improved on it significantly using their superior knowledge of warcraft. It was fortified again in the Revolutionary War and underwent some minor changes when it was famously captured and defended from the confederates by a group of escaped slaves for the entire duration of the Civil War. It was upgraded once more during the industrial revolution, and underwent major renovations during the 40s after the attack on Pearl Harbor, when it was rumored to have undergone significant underground expansion for top-secret military use. When it was converted to a prison a few years ago the state had spent millions to bring the whole place up to state of the art, 21st century standards.

The result of this sordid history was a massive and imposing complex that had a jarring mishmash of ancient obsidian ziggurats, cannon-mounted battlements and machinegun outposts, speckled with spanking new guard towers and various dishes and antennae.

Olivia was right to be nervous.

It had long ago established its dominance as the world's hardest place to get in, or out of. As a result when it became a prison it had quickly developed a reputation as home to the country's most dangerous thugs, gangsters, and Mafiosos, from the ghettos of L.A. all the way to the projects of N.Y.C. And now it was also home to three skinny white guys who stole a bunch of digital money with a laptop.

Things were getting choppy now as the ferry approached the famous currents that surrounded the island and Olivia went and sat down as seasickness began to compound with her nervousness, which was not helped by the sight of the black women, who looked as though they might literally be prostitutes. What kind of men were women like these visiting? She was glad her twin daughters Alexa and Penelope weren't here to see what kind of company she was being forced to keep.

The black women chattered away casually, while the two rich girls whispered excitedly and cast significant glances at the pilots cage, where Jim struggled against the current. Olivia queasily tried to find a silver lining as the blackness of the island filled her field of vision. At least it was a beautiful day.

NEXT: THE SHADOW IN THE DEEP