Anti-hero of a certain comic

After night falls in the prison, the quietness of the day is swept away, and it begins to boil and agitate.

The prisoners in the cell knocked on the iron door and kept shouting "freedom".This was the case in every prison area, with the sounds one after another converging into a wave that was as loud as the sky.

Most of the criminals incarcerated in the Gulag prison system have anti-government tendencies and can easily riot.

The more ferocious the suppression, the stronger the backlash. This can be said to be a common characteristic of fighting nations.

Later, in order to prevent this from happening, the Gulag Administration decided to give the prisoners more time for activities and reduce the high-intensity labor during the day.

The warden also gave special permission to hold "fighting games" in each prison area at night to vent the prisoners' high energy.

The two hours after nightfall when the cell door is open are the "free time" for these violent elements.

Some people tried to escape, but when they crossed the wooden fence, they were shot into pieces by machine guns.

The prison allows prisoners to get some extra gifts under their rules, but once anyone crosses that cordon, the end will definitely not be easy.

Leo pushed open the cell door and felt the long-lost violent atmosphere.

Those strong, ferocious gang members, inmate villains, poured out of the cells like a tide and began to walk towards the correctional facility in the prison area.

"Why are those guys staring at me?"

Leo, who was following the crowd, looked at the old man next to him.

This old Russian man who likes to hold up Stalin's works and was imprisoned for his reactionary remarks is called Victor Reznov.

In fact, he didn't look that old. His cheeks were thin and his eyes seemed cloudy, but they were like the old man and the fisherman in the sea, occasionally flashing an extraordinarily determined light.

"They are all members of the skinhead gang. You just broke one of Valery's legs, and he happens to be a member of the skinhead gang."

The old man Victor held a book in his hand and followed Leo.

He looked up at the other party and said softly: "No matter what you do with Ivankov, it's best not to provoke the skinheads. They are a group of ultra-nationalists, and people like you are very dangerous."

Leo raised his eyebrows slightly. The last time he came here, there were no fighting games or skinheads.

As for the latter, he knew something about it.

These guys who like to shave their heads, wear camouflage pants and have "swastikas" tattooed on their bodies are an alternative continuation of Nazism after World War II.

They advocate the supremacy of white Russians, advocate violence, and even put forward radical slogans such as "Russia is Russia for Russians."

They are called "skinheads" because their trademarks are bald heads and Nazi tattoos.

Their unifying idol is the mustachioed Führer, and the main rally day is the last week of April every year. Hitler's birthday is April 4.

The number of skinheads in the early days was not large, but they have become more active in recent years. The number has grown to more than 5 in various regions of Russia alone. They have gradually become militarized, with a tight organizational structure and a large number of military weapons. Even Chechen militants Not willing to provoke anyone.

"You should pray they don't mess with me."

Leo smiled faintly. He had no interest in playing prison games with these violent men.

Find Vyacheslav Ivankov, who was once the godfather of the Russian gang, determine the specific location of Leila Michaels, who is being held in the women's ward, and then pack her away.

The task is expected to be completed within ten hours if nothing unexpected happens

This is what Leo is prepared to do.

"How do I get to Ward [-]?"

Leo looked at the old man Victor and intuitively told him that there were many stories hidden under this man's weathered face. Unfortunately, he had neither time nor wine now.

"Did you see the bald man in the fight? His name is Lev Kravchenko. He is the best fighter in Ward [-]."

Victor, who was sitting on a bench, glanced at a burly man nearly two meters tall.

"Ward [-] is the most intense place for fighting games. Many prison guards place bets there. If you beat Lev Kravchenko, the boss guarding the block will let you go to Ward [-] to participate in the game."

"that's it"

"that's it."

Leo looked at the dark crowd of people forming a circle and expressed some surprise.

The bald man standing in the middle punched hard and hard. The prisoners who came on stage were no match at all. After a fighting game, the losers were all carried off.

"What benefits does a winner have that makes these people feel like they are risking their lives?"

The guy who just came on had at least a mild concussion, a broken nose, and broken ribs and sternum.

Such injuries are not serious in a prison with insufficient medical facilities.

"Cigarettes, women, vodka, the respect of other people are all good things for a prisoner to go crazy about."

Victor said with a sigh.

"I think you only like vodka. I'll give it to you later."

Leo stood up, strode down, pushed aside the wall of people in front of him, and entered the center of the field.

called Levkra

Vchenko's bald man chuckled, and the tall and tall Leo actually looked a little thin in front of him.

As a key member of the skinhead gang, Kravchenko didn't waste any time and pounced directly with his huge fist.

"Beat this Yankee until he cries in his arms."

This is what the bald man was thinking when he punched.

嘭

In just one round, the most capable man in Ward [-] fell to the ground like a bitch.

"Who else"

Taking back the leg that was stepping on the bald head, Leo looked around and asked loudly.

Ten minutes later, Leo came to Ward 10.

The prison guard following him had hot eyes. This was not due to any philosophical atmosphere, but the ecstasy of seeing a money tree.

This somewhat unfamiliar young man easily defeated five skinhead thugs in Ward No. [-]. The process was so simple that people suspected it was a match-fixing.

"I'm going to sign you up for a cage fight. You stand here and don't move."

The prison guard responsible for placing bets for his colleagues warned that he was not worried about Leo taking the opportunity to escape unless the other party could outrun the bullets.

Then there will be no problem of finding people. The prison will be inspected every three days, and prisoners staying in other prison areas will be placed in solitary confinement.

Leo didn't care whether the prison guard went to buy oranges or place bets. He looked around and couldn't help but marvel.

The leisure area of ​​Ward No. [-] is a three-story cement building, and the roaring noise can be heard.

The prisoners were shouting wildly, like spectators watching a boxing match, and the focus of their gaze was a huge welded iron cage, more than four meters high.

The three floors above and below were opened in the middle. On the top floor stood patrolling prison guards armed with electric batons. Not far from the building, cold gun muzzles poked out of two security sentries.

The so-called betting is a joint business between the warden and Ivankov. Both parties regard it as a boring pastime.

"I want to see Ivankov and tell him that an old friend is here."

Leo went straight to the second floor and said to the thug guarding the door.

The ferocious looks of these violent men did not scare him.

In less than 2 minutes, Leo saw Ivankov on the top floor in a noisy and shouting atmosphere.

This former Russian godfather, a legendary figure who received the title of "The Thief of Laws", was tall and tall, with eyes like falcons, and an old face full of wrinkles, as if cast from copper and iron.

"Leo White, you damn little bastard"

The old man enthusiastically stretched out his hands and hugged Leo who came up. He laughed and said, "You look much more handsome in prison uniform than in a high-end suit."

"Ivankov, I haven't seen you for a long time and you are still so energetic."

Leo returned the greeting warmly. The old man in front of him may be the most famous godfather of the Russian gang.

Most of the current gang bosses are his disciples.

Ivankov was born in Georgia, the former Soviet Union. He had been unruly since he was a child. He dropped out of school early and joined a street gang. It was common for him to go to jail.

It was precisely because of this experience that Ivankov later became a black marketeer. During the Soviet era, the tough regime suppressed the space for gangs to survive, and prisons became a good breeding ground for gangs.

So he saw the opportunity and frequently visited major prisons. He started by selling tobacco, alcohol and other items. After his network expanded, he gradually developed into selling arms, counterfeit currency and drug dealing.

As the business grew bigger and bigger, a huge underground kingdom was gradually built firmly inside and outside the high walls.

However, it is a pity that in that era of political turmoil and changes, even though he became the godfather of the Russian gang and received the title of Gulag Thief, Ivankov was still arrested.

Even after the collapse of the Red Empire, he was still imprisoned in the Gulag prison for some reasons.

"What are you going to do again? The last time you showed the people of the Giant Elephant Gang and the Sun Gang, you left such a deep impression on them that many of them applied to change prisons and left."

Ivankov said with a hearty smile, without the majesty of the gang godfather at all.

"Find me someone, Laila Michaels, who should have been imprisoned here half a month ago."

Leo didn't hide anything and made his request straight to the point.

"Half an hour."

Ivankov nodded and gave a few instructions to a thug next to him.

He patted Leo on the shoulder, and the two walked to the edge of the stands, watching the brutal fight in the iron cage.

"There's a new guy here who fights really hard. Are you interested in going down and having some fun?"

"I just knocked down a few bald men in Ward [-]. Ordinary guys don't interest me."

Leo shook his head slightly. He was here to perform a rescue mission, so he couldn't be as high-profile as last time.

"Seeing that the big black guy didn't have a real name, he was named Bendtner. The inmates in the prison called him Bronze Tiger."

Ivankov pointed at the black man standing near the iron cage. The other man seemed to sense it and looked up at the young man on the high platform.