Impulse (A Victim Of Circumstance)

by dustandroses

Title: Impulse: A Victim of Circumstance Author: dustandroses
Betas: Rowan Fairchild and Ozsaur - my heroes Notes: Written for the Oz Lyric Wheel: 80's Challenge Song: Another One Bites The Dust by Queen Rating: NC17
Warnings: sexual situations and non-com Summary: Ritchie Hanlon contemplates his time in Oz, and relates how he ended up on death row. The first in a series of Death Row stories. Spoilers: Through Season 3, Episode 3 - Legs Disclaimer: I don't own them, but sometimes I think they own me. Feedback: Yes, please. Either here or to Website: Breaking Parole (my OzFic LiveJournal)

(A Victim of Circumstance)

Augustus Hill: Yeah, boy meets girl. That first moment when every corpuscle in your dick is percolating. Of course, not everybody has the same impulse. Losing Your Appeal
(Season 2, Episode 4)

I guess things could have come out differently for me if I wasn't queer, but it doesn't really matter, does it? Cause that's not something I can change, and I don't know if I would want to anyway. I like me. Not necessarily everything I've ever done, but in general I like the person I am. Or at least who I was before I ended up on the Other Side Of The Rainbow. No, Dorothy...I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, either.

All I wanted was to do my time, and get out of here with at least a little piece of my soul intact. I hung out with the rest of "The Gays". We weren't a gang, really, despite McManus' attempts to slap a label on us. Just a bunch of misfits, who hung together out of fear. Self-preservation can be a strong motivating force. We protected ourselves as best we could...did what we had to, to survive.

And there were even some times that were, well, if not easy, at least less horrible. Being in Emerald City helped. Compared to the rest of the prison, Em City was at least a 3 Star Hotel. There was still plenty of misery and pain lurking around every corner, and you could still become dead in just about three seconds flat, but we had our perks. Some days, sitting around a table in the quad, just shooting the bull, you could almost forget where you were for a couple of minutes. That was nice. When you live in fear 24 hours a day, forgetting where you are may be deadly, but sometimes, it's worth it, to give yourself a few minutes to breathe just a little easier.

Maybe it's just a casual conversation or some gossip around the table; a little discussion on who turns whose crank; a bit of speculation on who's got the biggest dick. Hey, you may not ever intend to get within measuring distance of some asshole Aryan's cock, but that doesn't mean you can't check him out in the showers; doesn't mean your eyes can't follow some homophobic Hispanic's tight ass as he walks past in the cafeteria; doesn't mean you can't fantasize about what that repressed but most well-built Homeboy's skin might taste like as you licked your way down those beautifully sculpted abs toward an even more beautifully sculpted cock. You can look, you can dream, you can fantasize; but you should always, always be aware that you should never touch.

Unless you`re getting paid for it, that is - now that's a totally different matter. And one that I keep my distance from. I don't do that shit, it just goes against the grain, you know? Hey, I'm no prude. I've done plenty of things my parents would be ashamed of if they ever knew, but there's just something about selling a part of yourself for cash that just doesn't sit right with me. It doesn't mean I haven't traded sex for advantage since I've been here. Sometimes it's the only way you can get what you need. Especially if what you need is for someone to stop hurting you long enough for you to survive the experience. I'm not happy about those times. But it's part of the survival of the fittest, here in Oz. But I've never sold myself for money. Maybe that's a small distinction, but it's important to me.

Not that I ever looked down on those who do. I have a lot of respect for both Fiona and Spooky - it's not easy being a fem in this place. These monsters in here think you can't protect yourself and you might as well be dead. And they're both still here, aren't they? They're both tough - fighters in their own way. They have to be. Who else have they got? It's just me and Tony. Now Tony - he's got mean friends and connections both here and on the outside that you don't want to mess with. That helps a lot, and I do what I can, too. I won't let anyone get hurt while I'm around. That's what I mean, you know? Our group sticks together - Tony and I do what we can, and Fiona and Spooky carry their part. They hear everything that goes on in this place so we can usually get advance notice of problems coming up. I've even seen O'Reily go to them for news. He may not respect them, but he respects their sources.

So the four of us - we sit around a table and play cards and gossip and carry on. It helps keep us strong. Helps keep us going, you know?

"So, tell me Fiona...which one would you choose?"

"None of them, Tony, none of them! Those bikers are all so ugly. I hate those tattoos."


"Oh, sorry, Spooky! You know I love your tattoos...there's a difference! You have well chosen...accents of ink. But people like that Hoyt, for instance...that's just ugly. No definition, they're all just jumbled up can hardly tell one from another! That's what I hate."

"Besides, Hoyt is just as ugly as sin."

"Very true, Tony. But have you gotten a look at the size of his dick? Oh, My God!!!"

"Oh Spooky, stop, stop, I can't take it! Just the thought!"

"Well, I'd do him, a flash!"

"What about you, Richie? Richie?" I look up - they're all staring at me.


Tony repeats: "What about you? Who's on top of your list of the most fuckable but forbidden pieces of ass in Oz?"

"Oh, I don't know, Tony...they all look pretty fucking ugly to me, lately."

"Don't believe it sweethearts. I know who Richie secretly moans over in the middle of the night. Remember, I share a pod with him. I know whose name he whispers in his sleep."

I'm shocked. "I whisper someone's name in my sleep? Who?" I really have no idea who Spooky is talking about. We all get that enigmatic little look he's so fond of - one eyebrow raised. "Oh, you are so full of shit! There's nobody I moan over at night. I think I'd know."

"What about him?" He uses his chin to point over to the table where the Aryans are sitting half way across the room.

"What? Those assholes? Which one?" Tony has a definitely biased opinion of the Nazis...I can tell he's a little disgusted by the thought.

Well, so am I. The Aryans have as little respect for queers as they do for blacks and Jews. Although it won't stop them from fucking a man if they`re in the mood. I guess as long as they're not on the receiving end it doesn't count, huh? Assholes is right. But I know who Spooky is talking about, now. He caught me staring at him in the shower just last week - gave me all sorts of hell over it for a couple of days. Marky Mack. Good looking, dirty blonde, well hung and full of attitude. Yeah, Spooky's right. I'd fuck him in a heartbeat.

"Yeah, ok, I'll admit it. I'd do him. If he weren't a Nazi, that is."

"Who? Who?" Tony is so impatient sometimes. Spooky gives us that smile again. "Oh, come on Spooky, just give us the fuckin' dirt!"

"Marky Mark."

"Marky Mack" I correct.


Fiona puts in her two cents worth..."I can see that. He's hot."

"Yeah, well he's Richie's, so hands off!"

We all laugh, it's just silly. There's no way it's ever going to happen. I'd never get that close to him, anyway - I hate those fucking Nazis. But it can't hurt to look, right?

I hate this life, sometimes - most of the time. This world. This - Hell Hole called Oz. But it's better than the alternative, right? `Cause death? That's about as permanent as it gets. There's no coming back from that one. I've had plenty of time to think about that, sitting here on Death Row. Me and Shirley, we've talked about it some, but she doesn't really like thinking about it, so I don't push it. But I do think about it. I have so many questions. I just wish I had some answers. I really need to stop worrying about it, though. I'll drive myself crazy like that. I'm most likely gonna find out soon enough anyway. Sooner than most of the other sorry sons-of-bitches around in this place.

When I first saw them in my pod I should have turned around and headed in the opposite direction. Gone to the library, or the computer room, or just hung out at one of the tables in the quad. But I dunno, something in me said "Dammit, that's mine." It's not like we have much to ourselves in this place and anyone stronger than you or with enough backup can take anything away from you at any time. But I was never one who stood down from a challenge. I was never a bully, but I was strong and I could fight. I stood up for myself. On the outside, I'd earned the respect of most of the punks in my neighborhood because I wasn't afraid to take a punch and I could give as good as I got.

So, I entered my pod and changed the course of my life irrevocably. I didn't know it at the time, of course. All I knew was they were in my pod, in the one space that belonged to me in this ugly place. Ordering me around, acting like big shots. Then Mack told me to suck his dick. Hell, maybe if he hadn't been a Nazi; if he'd asked nicely; if he hadn't brought his goons along for enforcement; maybe I would have. But not like this. Fuck that.

So I swung on him. It was intentional. I knew it would cause enough trouble to get a hack's attention. And then I would be rid of them. I'd have to be careful and not get caught by myself for a while, but I figured I could weather this one out. What I wasn't counting on was the bikers. When those Nazi goons grabbed me, Whittlesey was there in a heartbeat ready to pull them off, but then those goddam bikers started fighting and Whittlesey disappeared. Mack hit me hard in the gut and I went down on my knees, staring right at his crotch. I'd been aching for someone to touch for a while now, and now that I had the chance all I wanted to do cut the bastard's dick off and feed it to him. Ain't that a kick in the balls.

When Mack told me he and Schillinger killed Vogel, I wasn't surprised. Who the hell else is going to string up some poor Russian guy by the feet and carve Jew on his chest? Everyone knew it was the Aryans even if no one had any proof. I've wondered many times since why he told me: was he bragging to his buddies? Was he trying to impress me? Was he trying to build his reputation? (Tell the queer and the whole prison will know in a week!) I don't know. It doesn't matter now anyway, does it? He told me and my life's never been the same.

They pulled me back into the corner near the bunks and Mack zipped down his pants. He's giving me this running commentary on how he's seen me eying him in the much he knows I want him. And as Mack's pulling out his dick, I'm wondering what the hell happened to Whittlesey. I found out eventually that she'd been knocked unconscious - hit her head on the wall when one of the bikers pushed her; so the guards were all dealing with that mess while Mack was shoving his dick down my throat. I let him do it. At that point, I was afraid not to. I mean, he was in a vulnerable spot right then, I could have done him some harm. But if I did, I knew I'd be dead in no time.

The sudden fear of death overcame me for a moment and I thought about making this good for him. Really showing him what I could do. I'm not without skills...I can bring a man to his knees with just my tongue. But would it guarantee that I wouldn't get killed? No. And I was so pissed off right then: pissed off at the guy holding me down; pissed off at the guards for not paying attention; pissed off at this fuckin' prison for letting things like this happen; pissed off at my fellow inmates for watching it and not saying anything (because you know some of them were watching); and last but not least, pissed off at me for thinking I could protect myself, and getting myself into this situation in the first place. So I did nothing - nothing at all.

Mack fucked my mouth, shoving my head back and forth over his dick. You could tell he wasn't happy. He pulled out of my mouth and squatted down next to me. He stared in my face for a second or two. His eyes were ice cold. He ran a finger along my bottom lip. He smiled at me and a chill ran down my spine. "If you don't start sucking my dick," he whispered, "I'm going to have to kill you. You know that, don't you? I won't do it right now because there are too many people around, but I'll get you. I'll slit open your belly and pull your intestines out and strangle you with them. Is that what you want?"

It didn't make any sense that he would do something horrible like that for such an insignificant crime as not sucking his dick, but the moment I looked in those ice cold eyes, I believed him. So I did it. I sucked and he laughed and told me I was a good boy. It wasn't the first time I'd sucked some guys cock to save myself injury. And I thought even then that it probably wouldn't be the last. But it was the worst. Yeah, it was definitely the worst.

I heard one of the Aryans say "We've gotta go! Come on, come on..." But Mack just kept shoving his dick into my mouth. I heard him grunt hard, then he pulled out of my mouth and I felt his come hit me in the face two, three, four times. It was in my eyes, my nose, my mouth, dripping off my lips. I couldn't see anything. I heard him laughing as he zipped up his pants - felt him walk around me and leave; and I just knelt there on the floor. I couldn't move.

Someone touched me on the back. I just curled up on myself, hoping they'd go away. I felt something wet on the back of my neck - I jumped and raised up my hands to protect myself. Then I realized it was a washcloth and I was hearing Spooky and Fiona's voices. They started washing my face and talking to me softly - telling me it was alright - that everything was ok. Well, they were wrong about that. It was anything but ok. But the sound eased the pain a bit, and it gave me something to concentrate on. I needed that. It gave me some comfort.

You'd think being on Death Row would be the worst experience a man could ever have. You'd be wrong. There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man, but the worst is to take away a man's pride, his belief in himself. That day will live with me for the rest of my life, what little there is left of it. It's what wakes me up shouting at three in the morning. It's what I find myself thinking about in the middle of the afternoon. It haunts me. Every. Single. Day.

So the next day some other Aryan dick thinks it's his turn, and I realize that if I let this go I'll be an easy mark for every prick in Oz. I'll never have a moments peace. I'll end up some asshole's prag; wearing makeup and getting fucked up the ass and loaned out to his friends, or maybe even rented out to whomever's got the price. No fucking way. I have to stand up to them - I'm not taking that shit from anyone. So I shove him, and he's too close to the rail. I try to grab him. But I can't hold him - he slips from my hand. And McManus plays tough: "You're gonna be charged with murder." That's when I tell him what Mack said about him and Schillinger killing Vogel.

When that Nazi hack Metzer came to visit me in the hole, I knew my life was over. I didn't want to die. I never realized exactly how fiercely I wanted to live until it all got taken away from me. I suddenly went from a possibility of parole in 5 years to the possibility of the death penalty, and at that moment I realized exactly how desperately I wanted to live. There was always a doubt in my mind - some little piece of me that just didn't believe the Aryans would really keep their side of the bargain and let me live if I somehow managed to avoid the death penalty. But it was definitely better odds than being shanked in the back while I awaited trial over that dumb-fuck Aryan.

So I confessed to the murder of Alexander Vogel. What the hell did I have to lose at that point? I didn't have anything - so in the end I had to take the chance. I'm sure it thrilled Mack and that fuck Schillinger to no end to have the queer confess to their hate crime against a Jew. Kill two birds with one stone, huh? Two for one sale, guys...don't delay - get your victim here...they're going fast!

You'd think I'd get real satisfaction when I heard that Mack died when that tunnel collapsed during his escape attempt. I was jubilant at first. Racking up the score of dead Aryans and laughing: "Another one bites the dust!" It was a very personal victory. But in the didn't make any real difference, did it? I was still here. Still faced with the death penalty. And now that half of the Dynamic Duo that had actually committed the murder I had confessed to was dead, that left even less chance that someone would discover, or admit that I was innocent.

I had a different dream last night. First night I hadn't dreamt about Mack in months. Still couldn't get rid of the Aryans, though. It was that other fuck, the one that fell. It all happened in slow motion, and in the weirdest noise, like we were in a vacuum or something. No sound at all. I saw myself shove him and he went over the rail and just flipped. I reached to grab his leg. It swung away but his arm was still trying to grab the rail while he cart-wheeled - feet over head. I grabbed for his arm, but I couldn't get a grip even in slow motion, it happened so fast. He was just gone and I watched him fall and hit the ground with a loud and very final thud. I realized that was the first sound I'd heard in a long time.

His body was in such an awkward position. As I stared down at it, I kept thinking that I could reach down and touch him from where I was, way up on the second floor. I wanted to straighten out his body. Pull his shoulder out from under him, lay him flat on the floor with his arms at his sides, instead of stretched out so unnaturally - one in front and one in back. He just looked so -- uncomfortable. And I wanted to fix it.

The same way that I had wanted to stop his fall. It was an automatic reflex - an impulse that I didn't even think about; I just reached out and tried to grab him. I thought that maybe if I had intentionally tried to kill him, or even refused to try and stop him from falling - then maybe I wouldn't feel so pissed off about being on Death Row. But I did try, I didn't want him to die, just to leave me the fuck alone! Is that so much to ask? I didn't kill him. And I didn't kill Vogel either, despite my confession. Like I told Shirley - I'm innocent. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was just a victim of circumstance.

Another One Bites the Dust
by Queen

Steve walks warily down the street,
with the brim pulled way down low
Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet, machine guns ready to go
Are you ready, Are you ready for this
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat Out of the doorway the bullets rip
To the sound of the beat

Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust
And another one gone, and another one gone Another one bites the dust
Hey, I'm gonna get you too
Another one bites the dust

How do you think I'm going to get along, without you, when you're gone
You took me for everything that I had,
and kicked me out on my own

Are you happy, are you satisfied
How long can you stand the heat
Out of the doorway the bullets rip
To the sound of the beat


Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust

There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man And bring him to the ground
You can beat him
You can cheat him
you can treat him bad and leave him
When he's down
But I'm ready, yes I'm ready for you
I'm standing on my own two feet
Out of the doorway the bullets rip
repeating the sound of the beat

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