Location: Unknown, underground cell.
Elliot Amom seemed unrecognizable at this moment. The once haughty and confident Elliot looked like someone else. He was thin, to the point that he looked as if he would die of starvation at any moment. His skin was pale, sickly, and there were wounds on every corner of his body. His arms were handcuffed to two pillars, and his legs no longer had the strength to support their own weight.
His black hair was large, yet incredibly dirty, with various bits of dried mud, insects, and lice. His shackled hands were raw from having to bear the weight of Amon's entire body. His clothes were almost gone, only an old rag covered his crotch. Elliot was 5.9 feet (1.80 m) tall, but he looked much smaller and more insignificant and pitiful to anyone who saw him at this moment. For 6 years Elliot was imprisoned, enslaved, and tortured, in this underground prison. For 6 long years, he was traumatized, both physically and psychologically.
Elliot did not always live in this deplorable condition. From his adolescence to his early adult life, Elliot was a great fighter in underground fights. He was almost unbeatable. His fighting style was reckless and could not be easily deciphered. Elliot never learned a fighting style, he never had a teacher, everything he knew, he learned by fighting, and getting beaten.
But one day, he let fame go to his head. When he was 18, before an important fight, he was called to talk to one of the big shots in the underworld. From dealing to selling weapons, he was involved. He tried in a friendly manner to convince Elliot to lose the fight, that this would be beneficial to everyone.
Elliot thought that such a figure was being friendly to him because he feared him. Thinking he was invincible, he refused the figure, saying he would never lose. Elliot forgot one simple thing, but that people who possess some power, whether physical or monetary, at some point always forget.
You can't win forever. Elliot won that fight, and when he was going home with a fortune in his pockets, he was ambushed and attacked. He didn't have time to react, they were all armed. No matter how strong you are, your body is still human. Elliot received the fight of his life, and they even broke his right leg, the leg that he used to win that fight.
In the hospital, Elliot received the news that his tibia had fragmented into many parts, and even after many surgeries and physical therapy, Elliot would never walk again without a cane. Elliot found it difficult to accept his new reality, and went into a deep depression, gaining weight and losing contact with all his friends and relatives.
After a year of isolation, Elliot received a phone call that his brother had been murdered. Elliot once again found himself sinking into the pit of despair. Although it had been a few years since they had seen each other, they were both very close as children, and were separated only because his father separated from his brother's mother, causing his father to move to another country.
Elliot, after the funeral, made up his mind that he would give his nephew a good life. And this is when everything started to collapse even further in Elliot's already fragmented life. Having moved to his brother's country, Elliot found himself in a hostile environment, people who looked at him strangely at all times, and an eerie feeling that he was constantly being watched
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His nephew was only one year old at the time, and Elliot was overjoyed, despite his loss, to be able to make sure that his nephew could have a better life than he and his brother had.
One day, while he was in the park with his nephew. Elliot was kidnapped by hooded men, and he was taken to an underground cell. And this is where a 6-year-long hell began in Elliot's life.
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Presently, Elliot, who already seemed to be at the gates of death, was looking at his surroundings. After 6 years, he already knew where each wall was, where the bars were, and what the steel bars of the grid looked like.
The room was not large, only a few square meters. It had a steel grid, and the whole cell looked like it had been sloppily made. The cell was full of drips and rats, there were no windows or air vents, the place stank of feces and urine, and because there was no air vent, the air was incredibly horrible in here.
A steel door separated this room from the other cells, as far as Elliot remembered. Beside Elliot, there was a sheet full of holes and dirt, this was his bed when he was not handcuffed to the wall.
Staring at that steel wall with his one remaining eye, Elliot's malnourished body shivered with cold, and soon he began to cough. He knew that his life was coming to an end. But instead of feeling sad, he was happy. Very happy.
He couldn't stand living in fear anymore. Waking up in fear that someone would beat him up simply because he had nothing better to do. Getting the only meal of the day filled with urine from the prison guards, and having to force himself to eat in order not to starve to death. He could no longer stand the psychological and physical torture. Elliot became a broken man, and what kept him from committing suicide by biting his tongue is the fact that they cut his tongue out when he first tried.
Why did they do this to him? He hardly knew anyone in this country. All he wanted was to take care of his nephew and the wife his brother left behind. He knew that his brother did not lead an honest life, but it is impossible that someone would torture him for 6 years simply for revenge on his brother, who was already dead.
While thinking about how he would be freed from all the pain and suffering, the fluids in Elliot's lung caused him to start coughing, and from the force of the coughing, he began to bleed. Being locked up and unable to move freely, Elliot began to struggle as he coughed, causing the chains of his handcuffs to make noises and alert the guards.
The steel door opened, and a 6.2-foot (1.89 m) a tall man entered the room. He was bald, had a stern face, and was muscular. Looking at the cell and smelling the odor, he frowned at the scene. Seeing Elliot choking on his own blood, his first thought was not to help, but to draw his gun from his holster and finish him off that instant. As he thought about how much simpler his life would be if this happened, another man asked from outside the cell.
"Is he dead yet? Hey, Brance, how can you stand the stench from in there? If he's already dead, let's just call those guys! We'll finally be free!"
The bald man, Brance, finally woke up. He dropped the gun, which at some point he had started to hold, and walked out of the cell with slow steps. His boots were now dirty with mud, something he swore he would make Elliot pay for. Maybe he should have Elliot lick his boots, and at mealtime, he would make him eat some old shoe.
"He is still alive, but he is about to die. We should call the doctor, she'll fix him up enough, so he won't die." The bald man replied.
"Can't we just leave him to die? I mean, just pretend we didn't see his condition and-"
The other man was interrupted by a stern look from the bald man. The bald man looked like he wanted to smash the other man's face into the wall.
"Are you an idiot? I'll tell you how you got transferred to this place. The guard, who worked here, decided to rape the cripple, and then beat him so badly that he narrowly missed death. You know our orders, we can do whatever you want, as long as you don't kill the cripple. For breaking the rules, the guard was used as a toy for a month, before becoming food for the head guard's animals. Don't think nonsense and call the doctor!" The bald man said.
The other guard froze and turned pale, he nodded in agreement and quickly left to find the doctor. The bald man looked once more at Elliot, before closing the steel door.
In this complex of underground tunnels, in a pristine white room. A beautiful white woman 5.7 feet (1.74 m) tall, wearing a white lab coat, was sitting in a common office swivel chair while reading a fashion magazine. She had long black hair that went down to her buttocks. Her straight black hair seemed to cascade beautifully down her body. Her breasts were large, and even though they were covered by a burgundy roll-neck blouse, it was not possible to hide those two mountains. Her long legs were inside dark jeans, which did little to hide her true shape. Still sitting down, it was possible to see those round buttocks that would make any man see more. Her face with delicate features had a focused gaze on her black eyes, which were behind reading glasses. Her full lips moved slightly as she continued her reading.
The door opened abruptly with force, as the guard entered quickly and without caring about her manners.
"Doctor Jeanne, this is an emergency! The cripple-I mean prisoner 13-is drowning in his own blood!" The guard threw in all the information at once.
Hearing this, Doctor Jeanne quickly forgot about the guard's rude act, stood up, grabbed a briefcase from her worktable, and quickly left for Elliot's cell.
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