Ashley Warren drummed his fingers on the back of the car seat in front of him. The driver of the car turned and glared at him.

“Problem?” Ashley asked sarcastically. The driver simply grunted and returned his attention to the road.

“You’re a fantastic conversationalist,” Ashley went on. The driver said nothing. Why should he answer Ashley? It was clear he was taking the piss. But then again, taking the piss was Ashley’s specialty.

“We there yet?” Ashley pressed on. He noted a vein throbbing in the man’s neck and smiled to himself. He loved it when people got mad at him. It gave him a fantastic sense of power.

He gave a light pull on the handcuffs binding him to the car door. They were a lot stronger than the ones he was used to, and the steel was rubbing against his skin uncomfortably.

“Could you put your foot down?” he asked the driver, “These cuffs’re killing me. No pun intended, like.”

Still the driver said nothing, though his face was slowly turning an unattractive shade of puce.

Ashley leant forward in his seat and spoke softly and patronisingly to the driver.

“Parlez-vous l’Anglais?” he asked softly. He may be a thug, but he was educated. You could intimidate people better that way.

Still the man said nothing. Ashley was beginning to get annoyed. People usually reacted by now, either by yelling at him, or by punching him in the face. The grille separating the front and back seats of the car prevented the driver from doing the latter, but surely he would have punched him by now. Huffily, Ashley slouched in his chair and put his feet up on the seat in front.

“Je ne t’aime pas, “ he muttered sulkily.

“Get your feet off the seat!” the driver snapped. Ashley sat forward again, smiling his mocking smile.

“So you do speak English!” he said, “What else can you say?”

“I don’t have to answer to you!” the guard snapped, “I’m not the one who’s facing the chair!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Ashley said, “They haven’t decided that yet! For all you know, I could just be facing a few years in high-security! So don’t go jumping to any conclusions! It’s not nice!”

The driver snarled quietly and Ashley grinned. He got a weird kind of buzz out of antagonising people.

However, his happy buzz was ruined by the driver slamming his foot down and the car grinding to a halt. Ashley was thrown from his seat, and the only thing that kept him from going flying through the separating grille were, ironically, the cuffs he’d been complaining about. Not that he wasn’t going to get a lovely bruise around his wrists. It was the driver’s turn to grin.

“We’re here!” he barked, “Get out!”

Ashley indicated the handcuffs. “Might help if you unlocked me,” he said, his eyebrows raised slightly. With Ashley, this was a warning sign that his temper was slowly wearing thin.

The driver, however, didn’t know Ashley, save for the three hours driving there, and therefore didn’t notice the warning signs. He stepped out of the car and opened Ashley’s door. Pulling the key to the cuffs from his pocket, he dangled it in front of Ashley’s face.

“I could unlock you,” he said teasingly, “But then again, it might be fun to leave you here all night.”

Now Ashley’s cheeks were growing slightly red. If he had any brain, the driver would have stopped there and then. But he decided to push his luck just a bit further.

“See how the roles have reversed here?” he mocked, “Isn’t that ironic?”

Ashley snapped. He lashed out at the driver, his foot catching the man between the legs with a tremendous amount of force. The man doubled over in pain, dropping the key and clutching his bollocks for dear life.

As quick as a flash, Ashley slipped his shoe off and picked the key up in his toes. He tossed it into the air expertly, and it landed in his outstretched hand. He unlocked the handcuffs and stood up.

“I’m going for a walk now,” he said to the gasping driver, “And it’ll be more than your jobs worth if you let me. But if you chase me, it’s gonna hurt like fuck. Go!”

With that, he slid his trainer back on and hurried off. He wasn’t exactly running, but he was walking at a fast enough speed that the poor driver was in agony as he limped after him. Hopping backwards from foot to foot teasingly, Ashley threw his head back and laughed. But this wasn’t a happy, mocking laugh that he’d laughed so much on the way there. This was a different laugh. A cold, satisfied laugh that sent a shiver creeping down the driver’s spine.

Catching up with the pale youth, the driver grabbed a handful of Ashley’s shaggy black hair and began dragging him towards the building at which they had pulled up.

“Let go of me, you fuckhead!” Ashley yelled, his pale face twisted in pain. He kicked out at the driver, but the man held him at a safe distance as he dragged him across the concrete ground.

A few people, mostly young men in grey jumpsuits, had emerged to watch the spectacle. Ashley had begun to let loose a list of colourful expletives, aimed at the driver, who ignored him completely.

Ashley was dragged into an office and flung down on a chair. His handcuffs were returned, as the driver spat in his face.

“If you do get the chair, I’ll be the first to applaud the decision!” he snarled, “Have a nice time, you little shit!”

He stormed out the room, leaving Ashley alone to await a warden – someone else to turn against him.

Ashley slouched in his chair and looked around the room, blowing a lock of dark, greasy hair from his face. The one thing that caught his eye was a newspaper clipping on the wall. It was quite an old clipping, probably from about the 20s.

Capone Caught!

A grin broke over Ashley’s face. Al Capone was his hero. That guy had been a fantastic gangster. He’d committed countless crimes, but all they could ever pin him down on was fiddling his income tax. A bit like Ashley. Up until recently, he’d committed a huge list of crimes. But all they got him for was joyriding. Until the guy died.