Wallace laughed.
"Fair enough."
That afternoon, Warden Marcus Hale summoned Alcides.
Wallace was asked to accompany him as a witness.
The warden sat behind his desk with a thick file open.
"Mr. Mercer."
Alcides looked at him.
"You've used several names."
"Yes."
"Your legal name is Alcides Mercer."
"Yes."
Hale turned a page.
"You were a professional boxer."
Alcides remained silent.
"Thirty-seven victories."
Wallace stared.
"Twenty-nine stoppages."
Alcides lowered his eyes.
Hale continued.
"You were the light-heavyweight world champion."
Wallace whispered:
"The Quiet Storm."
Alcides looked at him.
"You know the name?"
"Everyone knows the name."
Hale closed the folder.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Alcides answered quietly.
"Because that man is dead."
Wallace looked confused.
"What happened?"
Alcides stared through the office window.
"I made a mistake."
The Quiet Storm
Wallace spent the next week in the prison library researching Alcides.
He found old sports magazines.
Newspaper articles.
Photographs.
There he was.
Young.
Powerful.
Focused.
A championship belt around his waist.
The headlines called him brilliant.
Unbeatable.
Cold.
A fighter who never wasted movement.
Wallace found a video still from his final championship defense.
Alcides stood across from an opponent who was nearly twenty pounds heavier.
The opponent swung wildly.
Alcides slipped every punch.
Then ended the fight with a single counter.
Wallace understood.
The man in Cell Block D wasn't merely trained.
He was exceptional.
But the articles eventually told a darker story.
Alcides's younger brother Gabriel had been killed during an armed robbery.
A suspect named Marcus Vane was arrested.
Alcides didn't trust the legal system.
He confronted Vane.
The fight ended with Vane permanently injured.
Alcides was arrested.
His career ended.
The championship was stripped.
His fortune disappeared.
He was sentenced to prison.
Wallace found him in the yard that evening.
"You killed a man?"
"No."
"You almost did."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Alcides stared at the concrete.
"My brother."
Wallace sat beside him.
"Tell me."
Alcides took a long breath.
"Gabriel was younger than me by four years."
He smiled sadly.
"He was the funny one."
Wallace listened.
"He handled my business. He traveled with me. When I became champion, he was the first person I called."
"What happened the night he died?"
"He went to buy groceries."
Alcides stopped.
"Two men tried to rob him."
Wallace said nothing.
"Gabriel fought back."
"And?"
"They shot him."
The yard seemed quieter.
"I found out who did it."
Wallace looked at him.
"Vane?"
"Yes."
"And you went after him."
"Yes."
"Did you plan to kill him?"
Alcides shook his head.
"I planned to scare him."
"What happened?"
"I lost control."
Wallace understood.
Alcides continued.
"I had spent my entire life learning how to hurt people."
He looked at his hands.
"When Gabriel died, all that training became a weapon."
Wallace asked:
"Do you regret it?"
"Every day."
"Then why don't you hate yourself?"
Alcides looked at him.
"Because hatred is another prison."
Wallace didn't answer.
Alcides continued.
"I can't bring Gabriel back."
"No."
"I can't erase what I did."
"No."
"So I have two choices."
"What are they?"
"Spend the rest of my life becoming the worst thing I ever did."
He paused.
"Or become something better."
Wallace nodded slowly.
"Which one are you doing?"
"I'm trying."
That answer stayed with Wallace.
Meanwhile, Deacon was preparing another attack.
This time he wasn't alone.
Four men waited for Alcides in the laundry room.
The cameras there were broken.
Deacon smiled when Alcides entered.