It was all the coyote could hear.
This coyote was born in a concrete jungle, tethered to a cold, rusting chain.
Now this chain, it wasn’t like any old chain. It was alive, almost. Slithering and constricting, feeding off the coyote’s desperation.
It got a sick pleasure out of it, and with each passing day, it seemed to grow stronger.
But it wasn’t alive. The man holding it was, though.
They called him a guard, but he did anything but. He loved his job, the power it gave him, and he strutted around like he owned the place. Got a sick satisfaction from others’ pain.
And the laugh…
Man, have you ever heard a hyena cackle? It was like that.
He’d let it rip every time he saw the coyote struggle, thinking he had us beat. But he overlooked something important – every chain, no matter how strong, has a weak link.
You see, this chain, it wasn’t just steel and rust.
It was a mirror, reflecting the ugliness of the man who held it.
The man who reveled in the pain of others, the man who thought that a station gave him the right to play Zeus.
Reminds you of Max Meadows, doesn’t it? Each link in that chain was forged in his image, representing his twisted sense of power.
He loved to strut around the block, parading his authority with that sickening grin.
But it was just a facade, a cover for the sadistic pleasure he got from our suffering.
His laughter echoed through the halls, a reminder of his belief that he had us all under his thumb.
But he was wrong.
Because every hyena’s laugh carries the fear of the coyote.
Meadows thinks he’s untouchable, but he found out real quick he wasn’t.
He was just holding the chain.
Meadows is cold, indifferent, enjoying the feeling of power he gets from holding us back.
But here’s the thing about chains – they’re only as strong as their weakest link.
See Max, no matter what you think, you’re not the one pulling the strings.
By trying to chain everyone else, you’ve chained yourself, haven’t you?
Your arrogance, your sadism, they’re not signs of strength.
They’re weak links, and they’re starting to show.
Every time you laugh now, I don’t hear victory.
I hear fear.
You’re afraid of the coyote. You’re afraid of what happens when that weak link breaks, and your masters no longer hold you.
I’m afraid to inform you that they let you go a long time ago. Now the coyote is free, and it’s time for your reckoning.
You used to think you were king of this concrete jungle.
That’s how the coyote’s story began.
Now let me tell you how it ends.
The coyote breaks his chains. Because no matter how strong the chain is, no matter how cruel the man who holds it, there’s one thing stronger…
The spirit of the coyote.
So keep laughing while you can, Max. Because when the coyote breaks its chain, it won’t be your laughter echoing through Death Row.
It’ll be your silence.