The night's breeze blew softly against the Kulze jailhouse, cooling its cells by making its way through the iron bars in each of the cells' opening. Two officers attempted to relax as they went through the nightshift; however, the incessant moaning and groaning of a guest did not allow the jail's hosts to enjoy their snacks peacefully. This guest, was, in fact, the only convict in the tiny jailhouse. He made as much noise as if all the seven cells were sold out.
"Shut up, Colledo!" The fat officer shouted from his ergonomical chair. "Don't make me go there and rip you apart!"
The "guest", sitting in the cell's only bed, gazed boldly through the iron bars at the officer. "You'd be lucky enough if you can get out of that chair."
"I'll show you!" The officer sprung from his seat, but was quickly detained by his thin colleague.
"Don't do it, Routew! He's just taunting you - remember what the doctor told you about your high blood pressure!"
"Yes, officer," said the mocking prisoner, "listen to the little "girl" beside you, "she" knows what's best for you."
It was the thin cop's turn to threaten their "guest." "Stop it, Colledo, or I'll have you shocked!"
"Shocked!? I'm already shocked I have to spend the night with two morons like you and the 'cookiee monster!'"
The lean officer did not even think twice. He rose from his chair and walked towards the boisterous convict, with the baton in his hand. The expression in his face confirmed the felon's deductions: he was about to be beat up the criminal until silence could be achieved. The "guest" heard the noise of the keys as the policeman got closer and closer, but did not move: he remained in the bed, with his head supported in the window's iron bars. A very old school jail, so to speak.
Suddenly, the "guest" uttered a long shriek; this was muffled by the key's noise as it unlocked the cell's door. It seemed as if he had been subject to the officer's taser right in the neck, even though the officer still stood outside the cell. Colledo, whose black, thin dreadlocks covered the grimace on his face, panted without stopping. He did not even notice the officer enter the cell and walk up to him.
"You seem worried all of a sudden, "Flashy"," said the cop as he played with the bludgeon. "Isn't that what they called you?"
"Y-Yes, th-that's it." The "guest" could not even thinking about lying or arguing. He did not know what just had happened to him. Stillness was what he wanted the most now, but the cop was not willing to give it. The latter started hitting "Flashy" with cudgel, as violent and reckless as he could be. All the pent-up anger was slowly purged in each of the blows. Colledo screamed in agony everytime he was hit; his cries becoming fainter as he was struck more and more.
"Now you'll learn to respect my bro-" The officer did not want to believe his eyes. "W-w-w-what-t the...!" The prisoner had vanished right before him! The lean officer trembled, while the fat Routew almost had a stroke; unless it was a collective hallucination, both agreed that "Flashy" disappeared. The latter, still lying on the bed from the beating, made no noise. He too noticed something had happened: the dreadlocks in front of his eyes looked like they were part of the bed's blankets. He lifted his hand and noticed how it changed from white cotton to grey paint, which was the paint of the cell's walls.
"Flashy" was puzzled: he had not been high or drunk in days. Did the grievous pain in the neck result from a drug injection? But then, who could have injected him? He was the only person in the cell at that time! Besides, his senses had not been affected! He could hear the officers saying "Where did he go?" and some profane exclamations.
The "guest" decided to make a move: he was not going to stay there when he has the chance to evade! He waited until the two officers got close enough to each other; then, without noise, the human chamaleon sneaked behind the two officers. Two weak cries were uttered by the officers as they fell on the floor, having been knocked unconscious by their own tasers. "Flashy" hesitated no more: he had something special. Something very special. Without thinking twice, the outlaw, now back to his natural appearance, took the cops guns and their car's keys, left the jail hastily and got in the police car. The motor roared, the gears shifted - a long ride was about to begin.