MORE WARNING SHOTS WERE fired from one of the watchtowers at the tumultuous unarmed Hispanics who climbed the fences — they retreated away, running back into their respective cells in Block-D and E, where some gathered hardline guards in the blocks, aggressively enjoined...

"Move in, you brown shits! Get in fast now!"

The inimical Latinos faced the besieging by more prison guards inside with the pointing rifles — others forcefully leading them into their cells with rotang whippings. The electronic locks clanked when the barred doors closed — cooping them all up like village chickens once again, like yesterday's lockdown...

Ramirez was hemmed in rage inside his dwelling oubliette, by the indignant talion made by the Captain of Guards Olsen, who disliked him and his countrymen. He then spotted the distressed Capt. Olsen coming on the floor — communicating back-forth, both on her radio and cell phone.

Olsen was seen by Ramirez as a coward in this times of danger — peered out of the window, giving orders at the blitz attack by the Blacks outside and dispatched guards through the radio — while at the same time — reporting the oppugn ground situation to Warden Graves of the riot, happening below her top floored office...

The warden scarify back in return, with vehement castigation...

"That fucking Judas Priest had got me fucking fooled — and, you Olsen, you idiot — how can this insurgence happen — were you fucking sleeping on the job!!? This is entirely your fault!

"Dammit, what is the fucking casualty rate out there, you fool — spit out the numbers?" the maladjusted warden cried out again in the phone-speaker.

Capt. Olsen answered over in discomfit...

"I am afraid more of ours than them — I estimated there are about thirty of the rebels on the loose out there in the yard — but, I am locking all the spics up here — so that, we can only deal with the Black rebels out there."

"You dumbass, with that dirty-dog, the fucking monk is on the loose! You should have deployed all your guards securing the Blacks fucking cell-blocks — the Niggers are the ones attacking us now out there, not the spics Olsen, you fucktard!"

The livid warden then sneered more insults by humiliating Olsen's prison security failure — and now, she had to call Governor Harris to notify the incident of the riot — and next, draw the culmination for control measures fast...

... before the handful of the mutineers escalate the breakout situation, into a full-scale takeover of Tombscradle...

She opined both instructions and career-threats, to her Captain of Guards...

"Keep those insurgents at bay from the IMU and also, don't let them go near to any of the Blacks cell-blocks — and also, that fucking Preacher — Olsen, you better fucking deal with him now — and if my butt is on the line, then your fat ass is on the chopping board too!"

The angry warden was in a snit at her office when she back-palmed in flail, knocking down the pile of official prison report files from her desk — it clouted even the family photo frames to the floor...

She grabbed the office telephone receiver with her eyes still outside the window — scrutinizing at the feral Negros who had now penetrated and reached A-Block — after intense combat with her prison guards on the ground...

She needed the external help to contain this messy pandemonium which was led by the anarchist Preacher — who had cozened her — and launched his machination of insurgency, that was happening in the flesh outside her office window...

This situation had never transpired in her career before — and now she anticipated the officious Governor Harris would definitely blame her for the farce — and, her inability to control the servitude rioters will be in the report later to Washington.

This may then terminate her working-contract soon — and it would definitely end her career in disgrace in Texas's award-winning penitentiary; after all those hard drudging years, she contributed to making it possible.