Rick stood in front of the sink, turning on the faucet and letting the water run over his hands. With slow movements, he washed his face, removing the dried blood and bruises that covered it.
Every drop of water that touched his skin felt like a blade piercing into him, yet he only gave a faint smile as he looked at his reflection in the mirror mounted on the wall.
"This is just perfect..." he muttered softly, observing the bruises decorating his cheeks.
The wounds now looked natural, as if they were truly the result of last night's beating by Bruno and his gang.
At the very least, if anyone saw him, they would think he had just woken up from a rough night, not that he had been beaten by the prison guards. Rick splashed his face with water once more, then took a deep breath before stepping away from the sink.
As he walked down the cold, damp prison corridor, Rick grumbled internally.
The work assignment given to him today would once again force him to face Bruno and his lackeys.
It had been three months since he first got into trouble with that group, and ever since then, he had become their favorite punching bag almost every week.
At first, Rick worked in a different area. However, ever since he refused to submit to Bruno, everything suddenly changed.
Just days after his small act of defiance, he received a notice from the guards that his work assignment had been relocated. To his surprise, he was now placed in the same work area as Bruno and his crew.
From that moment on, every day in Ironclad Prison became a living hell for Rick.
He glanced at the guards patrolling as usual, taking note of how they always turned a blind eye whenever he was beaten.
Something was clearly wrong here. It was no secret that Bruno had some kind of privilege in this prison, an exclusive right that allowed him to act however he pleased without fear of consequences.
"Bastard," Rick muttered under his breath.
He was certain there was a dirty deal between Bruno, the guards, and most likely, the warden himself.
As long as Bruno's actions didn't result in death or permanent disability, the prison officials didn't care. If something like that happened, they would have to take responsibility, and that was something they wanted to avoid at all costs. That was why Bruno was free to beat up anyone, as long as he didn't cross the line.
Rick clenched his fists tightly. He would never bow to Bruno like the other inmates. Bruno and his gang could beat him up as much as they wanted, but they would never break him. As long as they couldn't kill or cripple him, Rick would endure and wait for the right moment to turn the tables.
As he arrived at the work area, the sound of rough laughter echoed in his ears, a sound he had become all too familiar with.
There, Bruno's group was already 'busy working' or more accurately, pretending to work.
In the corner of the room, Bruno sat comfortably on a pile of scrap metal while two of his underlings massaged his shoulders.
Some of the other inmates grumbled as they worked, but all heads turned the moment Rick walked in.
"Hey, look who decided to show up," one of Bruno's men sneered.
Bruno slowly opened his eyes and grinned widely at the sight of Rick.
"Our little piglet finally decided to join us," Bruno said, his voice dripping with mockery and amusement.
"How was your sleep last night? Restful?" he asked sarcastically.
Rick remained silent, his expression blank as he stared at Bruno. He refused to be baited by cheap provocations.
"See that?" Bruno smirked, glancing at his lackeys. "This stubborn pig still thinks he's tough. But we know exactly how to break him."
Rick took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew his usual morning routine was about to begin.
Stepping into the Scrap Sorting area, his personal hell for the past three months, Rick was met with the familiar stench of rusted metal and harsh chemicals, mixed with the clattering of iron scraps being moved.
Before him lay a massive pile of scrap metal that needed to be sorted, cleaned, and prepared for processing.
One of Bruno's men, a large bald man, stepped forward and tossed a steel plate at Rick.
"The iron slave has arrived! Hurry up and take over our work, mutt!"
Laughter erupted around him. Rick said nothing as he approached the scrap pile, his face emotionless. He was too used to these insults.
"Look at his face," a scrawny inmate sneered, pointing at the bruises on Rick's cheek.
"Got beat up again? You're like a walking punching bag, Rick!" he jeered with a wide grin.
"A punching bag? I prefer to call him a trash slave," another inmate added, earning more laughter from the group. "Hey, slave, don't waste time. Clean up that metal before our boss gets bored!"
Rick took a slow breath, crouched down, and began sorting through the pile of rusted iron. His hands moved automatically, picking out the usable pieces for recycling.
As always, Bruno's men only did the light work, while the bulk of the labor was dumped on him.
"You know, Rick, there's one thing that could get you out of all this," Bruno suddenly spoke, still lounging on his rusted chair. His voice was smooth, laced with false sympathy.
"I wouldn't even make you work hard anymore if you just did one simple thing," he added, his sharp gaze filled with intimidation.
Rick paused for a moment but didn't turn around. He already knew what Bruno was going to say, it was the same thing every day.
"Just say that I'm your boss," Bruno continued, his smile widening.
"Do that, and I'll make sure you live comfortably here. No more backbreaking labor, no more bruises on your face, no more weekly beatings. And who knows? Maybe you'll even get some perks."
Rick gave a faint smile, his back still turned to Bruno. He picked up a piece of iron and started wiping it with a tattered cloth.
"I'd rather die than bow to you," he muttered, loud enough for them to hear.
In his life, he had never submitted to anyone, and Bruno was no exception.
Not to mention, he now had the strength to fight back, a reason to endure. There was no way he would give up now.
Silence filled the room for a brief moment before laughter erupted once again.
"Hahaha… I knew it," Bruno chuckled, waving a hand at his men. "In that case, make sure he 'enjoys' himself after work."
"Did you hear that? 'I'd rather die!'" one of Bruno's men mocked, mimicking Rick's voice in a high-pitched tone.
"Don't get a big head, Rick. You're just a piece of rubbish being played with here."
Bruno let out another low chuckle. "Well then, do your job properly, slave. I can't wait to see the results of your hard work."
Rick didn't respond. His hands kept moving, sorting the metal piece by piece, but inside, his rage burned. Bruno and his lackeys thought they could keep stepping on him forever. But they were wrong. Their time was running out.
Meanwhile, the other inmates continued to hurl their taunts.
"Oi, Rick, go lift that heavy scrap in the corner. You love hard work, don't you?"
Rick ignored them, grabbing a long rusted pipe and scrubbing it clean. Every drop of sweat reminded him that he was still standing, still breathing, and still enduring.
Bruno looked at him with a triumphant gaze, but Rick was only focused on his work. Only one thing was on his mind now, revenge. And it was about to be realised.