Night had fallen and the prison bus idled in the Court House yard in the middle of Harden City. The last two prisoners were teenagers been transferred from the state juvenile facility on the outskirts of the city to the state prison upstate. They had been in court appealing their sentences and they had lost. An overweight guard waited by the bus door as the first of the prisoners was lead out. This guard was called Fatso by the two prisoners already on the bus, and he eyed the young prisoner coming towards him.

The prisoner had turned eighteen a week before. He had Asian features, he was tall, with the body of a track runner- he had obvious muscle, but he wasn't bulked up like some of the kids that came out of Juvie.

"Come on, you Chinese prick," said the guard leading him, a rail thin man nicknamed Stretch. he pulled the prisoner forward, trying to make him walk faster than the leg restraints would allow.

"I'm Korean-American, you racist prick," the kid growled.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Stretch said lazily.

"Mike Cho, armed robbery and assault," Stretch said when they reached the bus. Fatso checked his list and checked a name off, then signalled a junior guard to take Mike to a seat.

"Where is the other one?" Fatso asked, wondering if he had time for a smoke.

"I'm getting him in a few minutes. They had to find another pair of leg irons," Stretch said, flicking open a pack of smokes and giving one to Fatso. With his free hand, he flipped open a file and showed Fatso the photo. It showed a kid with coal black hair and dark blue eyes, with the barest hint of a tan.

"Anton Dubrovsky. Eighteen years old. American with Russian parents. Six years into a twenty year sentence for murder," Stretch said, flicking the ash from the end of his cigarette and taking another long drag.

"So, he will make four for transport," Fatso said without much interest, taking a drag of his own cigarette.

Stretch ambled back inside a few minutes later and came back with Anton Dubrovsky. He was a little bulkier than Mike Cho. He didn't fight Stretch as much as Mike had done, but he muttered swear words in Russian. He was sat beside Cho. Anton craned his head round and looked at the two other prisoners. One was a middle aged man with shoulder length, greying brown hair and he was sitting opposite him. The other was an elderly Latino man Several rows back.

"I take it your appeal didn't go so well Mike?" he asked as the junior guard locked the door between the first and second row, and Stretch made himself comfortable in the first row.

"Shut the fuck up," Fatso shouted as he wedged himself behind the wheel of the bus.

Mike and Anton grinned at each other.

"Tell you what happened if we get bunked together," Mike grinned.


Fifteen minutes, they were traveling over the Moran Bridge which connected the civic centre of the city In the borough of Dukes, to the island of Birmingham. From there, they would travel through the Roseman tunnel, arriving in the borough of Scofield and drive upstate. But things didn't go that way.

Anton was chatting to the long haired man opposite him. His name was Paul. He was , in his own words, "an old hippie who had gotten done for having some fine herbage for my own use." Mike was rolling his eyes at the story. The elderly Latino man, who had been looking pissed off the entire time, suddenly smiled when he noted two black vans pull closer to the bus as they neared the bridges centre pullers. It all happened so fast, Anton wasn't totally sure how it all went down, but suddenly, the bus had stopped, and was stuck between two black vans. Several masked men forced their way onto the bus.

"A'right dickheads, give us an excuse," one of them hollard, raising a shotgun as Stretch went for his weapon. All three of the guards raised their arms, and each was knocked unconscious curtesy of the butt of a shotgun. The wire mesh door was opened, and the Latino man was escorted to the front of the bus. Once he was free from his cuffs, the keys were thrown back. Anton snatched them out of the air and undid his own chains.

By this time, the gang had moved to the van parked behind the bus, but Anton took no notice of what they were doing. He got down on his belly and rummaged under the drivers seat, fishing out the Colt Detective Special Fastso kept hidden in case of emergencies. It wasn't the first time had ridden Fatso's bus, and Anto knew the gun was illegal, so Fatso wouldn't be reporting it stolen.

"Hey, kid," said a voice from the door. It was one of the gang members. "If I were you, I would get out of here quick."

He jabbed a finger at the van in front. Anton got to his feet, peering at the fan. It was packed to the brim with explosives.

"Don't follow us back into Dukes. You got two minutes before that thing goes off, and four until the cops get here," the gang member warned, before he took off running.

"Mike, Paul, time to move," he called out. Both Mike And Paul were free now, and they had heard the warning the gang member had given. All three jumped off the bus and ran towards Birmingham. They made it to end of the bridge before the bomb went off. They watched as the centre of the bridge collapsed in a huge fireball. It was then Anton saw the genius of it. The prison bus and all bodies on board would be destroyed, or at least so,utterly damaged that there would be no way to tell who had died in the blast, especially when whatever remained would now be sinking to the bottom of the river with several tons of shattered concrete and steel.

"We need a car. Three guys in prison clotes are easy to spot on foot," Anton said. Mike smiled.

"Leave that to me boss," he said. He jogged off and returned a minute later with a rusty green station wagon with a dull red rear passanger side door.

"Yeah, that's not noticeable," Anton scoffed as he slid into the passanger seat.

"Well, they ain't looking for us yet," Mike replied, as he laid a had on Anton's knee, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"Dudes, I know a good place we can lay low for a while," Paul, said as he slid into the back seat.

"Sounds good. Is it far?" Anton asked as sirens started whaling in the distance and a light rain began to fall


It would be several hours before the local PD discovered that they had been hacked, and that all traces of those who were been transported on the bus had been deleted. No one knew what had happened, since the few drivers who had been on the bridge and had survived hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. Since it was dark out, they couldn't send divers down. By this time, Anton, Mike and Paul were safely secured in a little garage come apartment and grow house on the edge of the Red Light District that Paul had purchased under a false name and that the cops knew nothing about. None of them knew what they should do in the morning, but for that night, rest came easy.

Authors note: What do you think? Partly inspired by the intro to GTA 3, but not a GTA fanfic. This is my own tutors that draws inspiration from several places. Hope you enjoy.