Prisoner's Deal With The Devil

It was my first time playing a game with my girlfriend, and I felt pretty proud of how things went. But just as I was about to start another round, a team of federal agents suddenly kicked down my door. I barely had time to ask what was going on before one officer slammed me to the floor and cuffed my hands behind my back.

They tore through my house and “found” piles of artwork, stacks of cash, and even two heavy weapons. According to them, I was some guy named Jimbo “Jimmy K-47,” and they insisted I had no chance of reducing my sentence. I didn’t panic. I believed that, even if I landed in prison, my father would pull strings like he always had.

But I was wrong.

This time, to protect the family’s business interests, my father made a deal with the prosecutor. He told me that if I pleaded guilty, the judge would give me four years. I hated the idea, but under his pressure, I agreed. So in court, I admitted to everything — only for the judge to suddenly claim I had possessed heavy weapons for personal gain… and sentence me to ten years instead.

That’s when I realized the truth: the prosecutor had double-crossed both me and my father.

Months later in prison, a guard suddenly escorted me to the medical room. Inside stood the same prosecutor who betrayed me — and a female federal agent. She said she’d been monitoring my time inside and discovered I’d built alliances with every major gang and even started my own business. They admired my ability to blend in anywhere.

They wanted me to get close to a serial killer — one who had murdered multiple girls, but whose victims’ bodies had never been found. They needed information, and in exchange, they’d cut the remainder of my sentence. It was tempting, but I also knew that the wing where this killer was housed was filled with the most unstable inmates in the entire prison. I refused on the spot.

Before leaving, the agent handed me a file.

That night, I read it. The killer had murdered more than a dozen young women. All clues pointed to a man with a thick beard — but no bodies had ever been recovered, making conviction nearly impossible.

Conflicted, I visited my father the next day to ask for guidance.
His advice shocked me even more.