<b> Notes:</b> I've only seen up to season 2 so far (season three to be on its way to me soon ;), so this is set at the end of season 2. Thanks to Tem-ve for the beta read and to Phantomas for making some very helpful suggestions.

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He was fucked. He was fucked and he knew it the moment he suddenly found himself alone in the gym - alone with Schillinger and two of his guys from Block B. He didn't know them, and he didn't care. No warden was in sight, no other inmate. Ryan had been told to come here, had been told that Cyril was in trouble. He had been set up.

"So you want me dead? For what I did to your little idiot brother?" Schillinger asked, his voice friendly and quiet as always, but full of threat. "I'm afraid I have something else in mind. Something else entirely."

Immediately, Ryan tried to get to the door. He knew he wouldn't stand the slightest chance if it came to a fight. Three against one. No, the best tactic here was to back out if he wanted to survive this. Trying to catch them by surprise, Ryan punched Schillinger in the guts, shoving him back against the other two guys and made a run for the door.

They were faster.

Before he could move, before he could defend himself, Ryan found himself being smashed face first into a wall, a glass shard that they got from God knows where pressed warningly against his throat, Schillinger's two guys holding him up against it.

"Don't you dare to move," Schillinger whispered into his ear as he yanked his pants down.

Ryan didn't care, he didn't want Schillinger to control him, he couldn't just stand here and take it. Moving as fast as he could, he wrestled one of his arms free and punched Schillinger into the ribs with his elbow, yanking his head away from the shard, trying to get his other arm free as well. It didn't work as well as he had intended it to and his attempt to flee was brought to an abrupt halt as the man to his right got hold of his right arm. One sharp twist, an audible pop, and Ryan screamed, the pain making him go down onto his knees.

"I said. Don't. Move. Unless you want to end up like Beecher."

Ryan winced as he thought of Beecher, lying in the hospital now, both of his arms and legs broken, unable to move. "What do you want from me, Schillinger?" He asked, breathing through the searing pain that shot down his arm, into his chest.

"Well, I am curious. I wonder if you are as much fun as your precious brother."

Ryan was yanked back up onto his feet while Schillinger quickly dropped his own pants before bringing his hand up and pressing the shard back against his vulnerable throat. "I bet you are."

"You sick fuck. He didn't do anything to you."

"I was merely welcoming him to his new home. And he was so eager to see his big brother... he didn't even object to anything we did. You know, he did it for you, he let us rape him so he can see you."

"Fuck you. Don't you ever fucking touch him again."

"Maybe I will... Maybe I will just get rid of you now. I bet Cyril will have a splendid time, alone, here in this wonderful, sunny place. And we all know who brought him here in the first place. I bet you are proud."

Ryan screamed once more as Schillinger punctuated the last word by thrusting his cock up his ass, holding Ryan up against the wall. Both of his arms were pinned above his head, the other two Nazis making sure he couldn't escape and the long shard was still in Schillinger's right hand. Each thrust, each movement sent new pain through his body, his ass burning, his broken arm on fire.

"You know, your brother wasn't as tight as you are," Schillinger grunted. "I take it he likes taking it up the ass. Did he ever tell you?"

"You are so fucking sick, Schillinger. You fucking Nazi. You're a dead man. Leave us the fuck alone," Ryan managed to get out between the whimpers, between the screams. Then he felt Schillinger tensing and heard him groaning as he came, spilling his semen into Ryan's ass. It burned, the sensitive tissue inside of him torn, bleeding.

Ryan knew it was over now, Schillinger wouldn't let him survive this. And Cyril would be alone in this hell on earth. He winced as Schillinger pulled out of him again. The only thing that kept him upright were Schillinger's guys holding him up against the wall.

"O'Reily, see, I can't quite decide whether or not to let you live. I think... I might let fate decide."

Ryan's scream died in his throat as Schillinger thrust the shard into his side, between his ribs, puncturing his right lung.

"Good luck," Schillinger said, smiling that fucking friendly smile and gesturing to his guys to let Ryan drop down to the floor.

Ryan was crawling across the floor, trying to get to Schillinger while he was still in the room. "You're a dead man," he hissed over and over, before his body protested, before he ran out of air, his breathing only coming in short, pained gasps.

He barely noticed when Cyril found him, he barely noticed when they strapped him to the gurney and rushed him off to the hospital. His last thought before he was put under for surgery was revenge. He would get Schillinger for this.