Accompanied by a string of metallic clashing sounds, the prisoners in the cell began to rise one after another, lining up by the door, waiting for the prison guard to open it and take them out for some air.
In Bruce's cell, there were only three people. He purposely waited for a while, letting Bane stand in the front while he and Donn stood at the back. Bane was the first to bend down to pass through the narrow cell door. Bruce, trailing behind, paused for a moment and said to Donn in a teasing tone: "Without Big Dog, who are you going to run to?"
Donn swallowed nervously, looking somewhat at a loss. It didn't take Bruce's reminding for him to realize that he was the most easily bullied in the cell, exactly like how Jimmy used to be.
But unlike Jimmy, he hadn't formally joined any gang. Big Dog was his only backing, and after Big Dog's death, he didn't even have a chance to join any gang. His two cellmates clearly had no intentions of looking out for him, leaving Donn in utter fear.
Not to mention the Bandaged Murder Demon - even though he seemed a tad indifferent, he hadn't shown any aggressive behavior so far. But his new cellmate, Bane, appeared to be a violent freak, much more muscular than Big Dog. If Bane were to pick on him like Big Dog did with Jimmy, Donn would stand no chance of surviving even the first round.
Seeing Donn's expression gradually turning into terror, Bruce silently turned his gaze away, following the prison guard out of the cell.
Once they reached the recreation yard, Bruce didn't stop. He headed straight towards a group of seasoned serial killers in the prison and sat down in a corner unnoticed. Although he didn't communicate with anyone, his presence alone made his identity known to the other gangs.
Few in the prison dared to mess with these killers. Other convicts were after profit, but these killers murdered for the mere thrill of it. Most of them suffered from pathological mental illnesses. Conflicts between gangs typically didn't escalate beyond a point, but a mentally ill madman would definitely kill ruthlessly.
Moreover, these lunatics weren't interested in dealing with drugs or cigarettes. Most of them didn't smoke or drink, leading a healthy lifestyle with a fine physical condition. Their only hobbies were reading books or newspapers. Hence, they had no conflicts with other gangs, coexisting peacefully.
"Do you have any newspapers?" Bruce looked up at a thin scholarly looking man and asked.
"You guys can't all depend on me." The scholar complained with a frown, occasionally grimacing and twitching his shoulders, showing symptoms akin to those of post-polio syndrome.
"I'll try to smuggle in a couple of journals next week," Bruce, sitting on the ground with his hands resting on his knees, announced. His words attracted the attention of those around him. They all turned to look at him, so Bruce added: "But don't expect the latest ones. They can't figure out those complicated serial numbers."
Despite Bruce's remarks, people gathered around him, shifting the conversation focus to the latest academic achievements they had seen before being jailed. While Bruce casually chatted with them, his gaze remained fixated on Bane at the edge of the recreation yard.
This incredibly muscular big guy naturally attracted the attention of all the prison gangs. What the gangs lacked the most were two types of people - someone inconspicuous who never drew the attention of the prison guards and looked unlikely to stir up trouble for conducting contraband goods, and someone who was constantly causing trouble, displaying their violent temperament, and appeared intimidating, which helped them safeguard their contrabands.
Bane was clearly the latter. His physique was among the most robust in the entire prison. Based on his muscle mass alone, he looked like an augmented human, even without considering the tubes running through the back of his head. This kind of violent convict written all over their faces deterred potential aggressors and was naturally most welcomed by gangs.
The Border Gang and the Neo-Nazis sent their men tentatively towards him. The Black Gang backed off temporarily but also showed some interest. The remaining people all focused on him, curious about who would end up recruiting this powerful Beast.
The Border Gang was the first to send a Latino towards Bane. Bane, still sitting on the ground, didn't move when he saw him approaching, but focused his gaze on him under his mask.
Bruce knew clearly the sheer pressure Bane's gaze could exert. The Latino slowed down noticeably as he neared Bane, Looking stumped and forgetting the words he had prepared. He simply stood about two meters away from Bane in a daze.
Suddenly, Bane stood up. The Latino instinctively retreated two steps in fright, drawing a round of snickering from the crowd. They didn't understand the overwhelming pressure of standing under the shadow of Bane's enormous figure and simply thought that the Border Gang were a bunch of cowards, scared even before any actual action.
A ringleader of the Border Gang could not sit still any longer. He had to save face and pay for his subordinate's embarrassingly poor performance. So he called two of his cronies, swaggered over to Bane, jerked his chin towards him and said in English with a Spanish accent, "Hey, big guy, why didn't you greet my buddy?"
"I didn't see that he wanted to greet me," Bane grumbled. He clenched his bicep muscles and roughly pushed away the Latino standing before him. He walked up to the white ringleader, pounding his chest and said, "You should know that, even before the leg irons are electrified, I could twist off your heads."
The ringleader let out a cold laugh and said, "Then you'll be locked in a solitary confinement cell with no daylight. Don't even think about fightin', big dummy, unless you want to be tortured for a lifetime by the special confinement measures Amanda crazy woman set up."
Bane exhaled harshly through his nostrils, staring blankly at the ringleader and said, "What the hell do you want?"
"We just came to say hello to you."
"Now that the greetings have been exchanged, piss off."
"Something is off." Bruce with the red eyes turned to look at another him and said, "Bane's behavior just now was different from when I first met him. He acted like a brute with no brains."
"Perhaps he wanted to disguise himself as a brute." Bruce with the blue eyes squinted and focused on Bane's movement, saying, "Tensing the muscles helps to show off the arm circumference and highlight a sturdy body. Leaning back with chest out when standing is to emphasize masculine features. His hands aren't guarding himself but are kept on his sides, showing a fearless spirit."
"He constantly reinforces his physical characteristics, and with short sentences and straightforward words, he blurs the way he talks, making people think he's a simpleton with a strong physique. See, the Border Gang fell for it, didn't they?"
"Why would he do that?" asked Bruce with the red eyes.
"If it were me, facing a group of strangers in a hostile environment, I would hide my most vital weapon as my trump card."
"Even though he already has such a strong physique, he still believes his intelligence is more important?"
"Perhaps his intelligence is even stronger than his physique." Bruce with the blue eyes stared at the tubes behind Bane's head and said, "From the rough technique of the doctor who implanted those tubes, one can see that he is not a valuable experimental subject, and is very likely just an early pharmaceutical testing model."
"This type of model won't stay around for long." Bruce with the red eyes continued his hypothesis, "Those labs conducting illegal human experiments periodically dispose of these disposables, yet he not only wasn't destroyed, but also escaped the lab with these broken tubes and even got connected with Amanda."
"I have no doubt that Bane exploited Amanda. He made Amanda believe that he's just a reckless Big Guy, an easily manipulated killing tool, which is why he ended up in a regular cell."
"If his goal was to escape, then he could have left long ago. Amanda was deceived by him and didn't use special strict containment measures against him. The security force of regular cells is a joke to him. Judging from the muscle volume in his legs, he can even jump over the electric fence. So why hasn't he left?" Bruce with the blue eyes said, puzzled.
"Bane must have a special target for staying around on purpose. We need to find out what he really wants to do first, then we can proceed with the next step."
As his words fell, Bruce with the blue eyes disappeared. He stood up from the ground and asked the scholar across him while wearing glasses, "I'm going to the medical room to change the bandage on my face tonight. Any suggestions?"
"Nurse... there are old newspapers in the cupboard on the right side of the nurse station." The scholar stuttered, "It's used by those drug addicts as packaging for smuggling drugs, but we need it. Can you get it?"
Bruce nodded, another convict who looked like a farmer and was quite strong stepped forward and said, "They mostly use last month's newspapers. If you can get them for us, then whoever's story is written on the newspaper will help you. I guess it's likely mine. So, what do you need?"
"I need a prisoner list."
"Deal."
On the way back to the cell, Donn wanted to talk to Bruce several times. Bruce noticed his intention, so he walked faster and left him far behind, not giving him a chance to talk at all.
The time is not ripe yet, Bruce thought as he lowered his head to observe the gloss on his handcuffs. The scent brought by fear was not dense enough; fermentation had not yet to begin, the wine was too sour to drink.
Listening to the crisp sound of chains scraping against the ground, Bruce started to recall. When did he also start making this cruel joke about comparing the aroma of fear to wine? Why had he just been socializing with a group of serial killers, without any anger toward their crimes. Instead, he just felt contempt and impatience, even missing his drinking and poker friends?
Personally manipulated Jimmy to kill Big Dog, planned to use fear to pressure Donn, and had a pleasant conversation with serial killers who had over a dozen lives on their hands. Yet, Bruce didn't even spend a minute searching for any potential guilt in his conscience. He just mocked that Gotham's news was always way more exciting than their stories about him. Joker's jokes were also way funnier than theirs.
In the narrow and dark corridor of the prison, this young man walked forward with a calm face, with a steady pace he walked back to his cell and calmly sat on the bed like returning home. Bruce indeed started to miss home a bit.