He was glad when the bus finally fucking stopped. Not just because suspension was fucked so bad every pebble sent jolts of pain through his shoulder, but because of the stink. Anger and fear mingled thick in the close air, making him feel his was in a fucking kill zone.<br/><br/>The guards jostled one of the softest pieces of ass out first, already tenderised by the look of his bruised face. Whatever that fucker had done, Santos smirked, it was bad enough to make the guards hate on site. He didn’t look like a paedophile, but then, that would be to the guy’s advantage. It really didn’t take a genius to work out the kid was at the bottom of the food chain before he’d even stepped into the fucking building.<br/><br/>How long would it take for him to get what was left of his pretty beat away? If the rest of the inmates took the same liking to him as the guards had, he might not even last a night.<br/><br/>Santos stood up when it was his turn and stepped out lightly, narrowing his eyes from the sun. It was an ugly place, but he’d not expected a spa. The guy in front wasn’t moving very fast, and the moron even giggled.<br/><br/>The guards had them line up like a stable of whores on show to a john, and didn’t that just rub him all wrong but he couldn’t do shit but stand there. His gaze moved from guard to guard, gauging which he could take head on and which he’d have to be sneaky with. Not that he was stupid enough to try.<br/><br/>Where the fuck could he get a smoke?<br/>