5 the warden


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The heat clubbed him in the face as they shoved him outside.  Relatively cool in the bath-house, outside the air almost grabbed Ka-Lan by the throat.  The dry air stung at the inside of his nose.  Only wearing a pair of bedraggled shorts, the sweat was running already.

What was this dump?  Free of the hood now, he squinted into the glare.  Some run-down concrete barracks  ..  were those bars at the windows?  Some prison?  Dry, arid, the earth beneath his bare feet baked-hard.

Another rough shove projected him down a dirt track between unkempt vegetation gone wild.  A  couple of men spotted him, dressed in tattered shorts too.  Other prisoners?  Muscular, bedraggled, filthy dirty.  They eyed him as he passed.  His hands trapped behind his head.

Their guard cracked out a whip and they went on their way, casting an eye back at him as the prisoners were quickly moved on.  Looking over this new member to join their club.


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