He woke up in a prison hospital, looking down the barrel of seven life sentences for murder. His only life line was a shadowy man named Grant LaCosta. LaCosta had turned up at the hospital attempting to recruit Cutter for a special team he was putting together. But Cutter had seen more death and destruction, than any man should. He declined the offer, choosing to stay in prison.
LaCosta left, but before he went, he gave Cutter a business card which had a single phone number on it. LaCosta had described it as a genuine 'get out of jail free' card.
La Costa had said, “When you realise Li wasn’t the only piece of filth involved in the car chase that killed your wife and child – give me a call.”
Those words were now seared into Cutter’s mind.
Three months later at Ironbark Correctional Institution, Sydney, Australia…
Cutter had hoped that prison life would be peaceful. He figured if he left people alone, they would leave him alone. It wasn't to be.
Triad organisations are much like the Greek mythological figure of Hydra. When you cut off one head, a new one quickly grows back in its place. When Cutter took out Zheng Li, he had only lopped one head off. A new one had grown back, and the new leader of Sydney's underworld was a man named Yuen Lao. His first decree was he wanted Nathan Cutter killed. He wanted him dead so badly, he had even put a seventy-five thousand dollar bounty on Cutter's head.
Cutter didn't know this as he was released from the prison hospital. It was only his first day mixing with the general prison population. He was assigned to the laundry detail.
After three months in hospital, Cutter's strength and fitness level had dropped considerably. Before, he had prided himself on his physical and mental stamina, but after two hours of shunting around laundry trolleys, he was beat. He stopped for a moment in one of the cold deserted passageways, and rolled his shoulder muscles, attempting to get the circulation going again. That's when they came at him.
There were three of them, and they appeared to come from nowhere. Obviously they had been watching and waiting for an opportunity. And now their moment had arrived. Cutter was alone, with no other prisoners or warders to come to his defence.
The attackers were Asian, angry, and looking to collect the bounty offered by Yuen Lao. Even in prison, Lao and the Triads had power and influence. Seventy-five thousand dollars could buy a lot of power and influence, anywhere.
The Triad trio consisted of Frankie Lo, Wu Chien and Tsao Li. The leader of the trio, was Lo, who, after the release of the film, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, had been nick-named 'Crouching Lo'.
Lo was in his late forties, and his face showed every one of those hard years etched deep into his skin like a road map. But despite his age, he was lean, wiry and in excellent condition. Cutter watched him as he advanced, noticing the intricate tattoos adorning his arms.
Lo came at Cutter head on, while the other two came from behind, blocking any retreat. Lo kept advancing. He carried no weapon, but from his stance, Cutter surmised that Lo knew some martial arts. Just how much, Cutter was going to learn – the hard way.
Lo threw a textbook Kinjobo jab. Like a darting snake, his hand shot out, smacking Cutter in the nose. Cutter reeled from the force of the blow, staggering back into the trolley he had been pushing. Lo followed it up with a side kick that caught Cutter in the stomach.
Winded, Cutter slumped to the floor, his eyes watering. Lo followed up with another kick, but Cutter raised his arms, like a boxer, protecting his head. The kick crashed into Cutter's forearms.
Cutter knew he had to get off the ground. Sitting there he was dead meat. Lo kicked out again, but this time Cutter was ready. He caught Lo's foot and twisted the ankle. Lo snorted in pain, and lost his balance, falling to the floor in front of Cutter. As Cutter climbed to his feet, he threw a woolly uppercut that caught Lo on the jaw. The Chinaman was rocked back into the wall.
But Cutter had taken his eyes off Lo's two henchmen, Wu Chien and Tsao Li. Both men were in their early twenties, and had a youthful glow. And they moved quickly too, as Cutter found out, on the receiving end of a lightning palm strike to the chest, from Chien.
Chien and Li worked together double teaming Cutter. Chien came hard from the left with a spinning kick. Cutter tried to move away, only to run into a chop from Li. Cutter roared in pain, and rushed at Li. Li tried to kick forward, but Cutter grabbed his leg at the knee and wrenched it up. Li lost his balance and fell backward, all the while Cutter kept holding on to his leg. Now with Li, on his back, Cutter grabbed the ankle and twisted, hard. He heard the tendon snap. The young man howled in pain, cursing in a language that Cutter could not understand.
As Cutter dropped Li's foot, Chien came at him again. First with a side kick which Cutter blocked and then two rapid blows to his midsection. Cutter swiped aside the first, but the second caught him in the solar plexus. Pain. Unbelievable Pain.
As Chien came in for the kill, to collect the bounty, Cutter dropped to one knee. The aggressor's intended roundhouse kick sailed over Cutter's head, and in his follow through, he found his back exposed to Cutter. Summoning what reserves of strength he had, Cutter struck hard and fast at the small of Chien's back. Cutter heard the vertebrae snap.
Chien arched his back in pain, then toppled to the floor, his face a contorted mask of agony. Cutter slowly stood, and eyed Lo. Would the old man have another go?
For seventy-five thousand dollars, the answer was a resounding yes. 'Crouching Lo' bounded forward, twisting into side-on stance. His foot darted out at Cutter's neck. Cutter blocked the foot with his right hand, but as he pushed the foot away, he exposed his whole right side. Lo pirouetted around and pounded two blows under Cutter's ribcage.
Cutter almost gave up there and then. Racked with pain he stumbled forward. Maybe if he hadn't spent the last three months in hospital, he may have been able to defend himself against three assailants. But here he had been out-manned and outmatched.
But the warrior spirit inside wouldn't let Cutter die. As Lo struck out once again, Cutter found himself moving almost by instinct. As Lo's hand shot past, Cutter ducked under it, and came up with an uppercut that caught the Triad on the jaw. Lo reeled back, slamming into the wall. Before Lo recovered, Cutter swayed in, grabbed the wrist and elbow of Lo's right arm. Then he brought his knee up, cracking the limb like a twig. Lo grunted in pain, but Cutter had no sympathy for him.
As a final insult, Cutter pushed Lo in the face, and watched him drop to the floor. Then he shuffled to his laundry trolley and walked off as if nothing had happened, although the bruises on his body would tell a different story.
Cutter's second day in 'Stir' was even more eventful than the first. To start the day, he found out he had a secret admirer. They called him 'Munster' and he was the most feared man in the prison. At six-foot-seven and over two-hundred and sixty pounds, he was a mountain of muscle and meanness. His head was shaved, and he had Celtic tattoos all over his torso. He came after Cutter in the shower, looking to collect on the Triad bounty.
The shiv wasn't long, and Munster had hidden it in a block of soap. His thick fingers cracked open the block, and he extracted the knife. Then he turned and faced Cutter, looking his target straight in the eyes. Munster liked his victims to know he was coming for them.
“Hey, 'Fuck-wad', you're wanted,” Munster called, holding up the knife and twisting the blade for show.
Cutter ignored him, lifting his head into the shower spray.
The other prisoners moved to the sides of the shower block, out of harm's way. They knew trouble was coming.