Prison brutality wasn’t just from the guards.
A hulking Klie with a chitinous exoskeleton suddenly lunged at a smaller prisoner, slamming him into the wall. The crowd cheered, their voices rising like a pack of wild animals.
Xavier’s pulse quickened. He needed to get out of here—now.
But before he could move, a Draconian with scales like polished obsidian stepped into his path, his slit-pupiled gaze locking onto Xavier.
"Fresh meat," he rumbled, his voice like gravel. "You look lost."
Xavier didn’t answer. He just stepped back, his fingers curling into fists.
The Draconian grinned, his teeth glinting in the dim light. "Good. Run."
And then he lunged.
Xavier barely had time to react before the Draconian’s fist crashed into his jaw, sending him sprawling. The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices rising like a storm.
Xavier’s vision swam, his head pounding. But he forced himself up, his fingers curling around a broken piece of metal on the ground.
The Draconian charged again—and Xavier dodged this time.
The metal sliced across the Draconian’s scales, drawing a line of dark blood. The crowd fell silent.
The Draconian snarled, his fists clenching. "You’re dead."
Xavier didn’t wait. He ran.
Xavier’s lungs burned, his legs screaming in protest as he sprinted through the prison’s labyrinthine corridors. He wasn’t built for this—his stamina was nonexistent, his body more suited for books than brawls. But fear? No. He wasn’t scared. He just refused to lose.
The Draconian roared behind him, his massive frame shaking the metal walkways as he gave chase. Xavier darted through narrow gaps between rusted pipes, slipping through spaces the Draconian couldn’t fit. The prisoners who had been cheering for his pursuer now hooted and hollered for him, their voices echoing through the prison like a war cry.
"Go, human!"
"Slippery little rat!"
"He’s got him on the ropes!"
Xavier’s breath came in ragged gasps, his vision swimming. He couldn’t keep this up forever. His legs wobbled, his speed slowing to a stumbling jog.
Then he saw him.
A prisoner sitting alone in the shadows, his presence radiating danger like a black hole. The other inmates gave him a wide berth, their eyes flicking away as if afraid to even look at him.
Xavier didn’t hesitate.
He veered sharply, collapsing beside the man with a dramatic gasp. The Draconian skidded to a halt, his scales bristling as the crowd booed him into retreat.
Xavier turned his head—and froze.
The man was terrifying.
He looked to be in his late fifties, but his body was a patchwork of cybernetic enhancements, each one more intimidating than the last. His left eye glowed a cold, electric blue, the iris flickering with data streams. His right arm was a sleek, black alloy, the fingers ending in razor-sharp tips. The back of his skull was exposed metal, the wiring beneath pulsing faintly. His feet were reinforced with hydraulic pistons, the toes ending in retractable claws. Although their functions were disabled in the prison.
His face was a maze of scars, his remaining organic eye a piercing, icy gray. His jaw was reinforced with titanium plating, the teeth beneath sharpened to points.
He turned that gaze on Xavier—and smirked.
"You’ve got guts, kid," he rumbled, his voice like gravel. "Or a death wish."
Xavier swallowed hard.
He had just traded one predator for another.
But at least this one wasn’t chasing him.
Yet.
"Neither," Xavier responded. "I just needed a place to sit."
The man’s lips twitched.
And then, to Xavier’s shock, he chuckled.
"Smart," he said. "Stupid. But smart."
Xavier exhaled, his body sagging in relief.
Everyone called the man, Bull. But Xavier wasn’t sure if they called him Bull because of his build, or it was actually his name.
Xavier sat in silence beside Bull, the man’s cybernetic eye flickering with data streams as he observed the prison’s nightly chaos. The other inmates gave them a wide berth, their eyes darting away like nervous prey.
Then—a chime.
Not the usual metallic clang of the prison’s bells, but something deeper, more sinister. A signal.
The prisoners froze mid-conversation, their heads snapping toward the sound. Even Bull stood, his hydraulic limbs unfolding with a hiss of servos. And no one seemed to be scared of him anymore.
Xavier hesitated, then followed as the crowd shuffled toward the common ground, their chains rattling like a death march.
The inmates formed a loose circle, their voices a low murmur as they cast their votes. Xavier watched, confused, as numbers flashed on a holographic display projected from a rusted console.
When his turn came, he panicked— he didn’t know what to do, he had no idea what the voting was for. But his instincts told him to go with the majority, and voted for XBE 32, the number with the most tally marks.
The crowd dispersed, their boots clanging against the metal grating as they moved as one toward the cell block.
Xavier trailed behind, his pulse quickening as he realized the truth.
XBE 32 wasn’t a number.
It was a cell.
The inmates surrounded the cell, their faces a mix of anticipation and grim satisfaction. Bull stepped forward, his cybernetic fingers flickering as he plucked a chip from his skull—a neural bypass, Xavier realized with a jolt.
The chip slotted into the console with a click.
The force field vanished.
Inside, a young man—early twenties, his face gaunt with fear—cowered against the wall. Bull signaled his head and the prisoners surged forward, dragging him out by his arms. And then, they took him somewhere.
Xavier’s stomach twisted.
Bull turned, his gaze locking onto Xavier. "You coming, kid?"
Xavier hesitated.
He stood there and watched. He wasn’t sure if he should follow them anymore. Maybe the best choice was for him to get back to his cell and get some sleep.
But curiosity got the best of him and he ended up following them.
Because if he wanted to survive this place, he needed to understand its rules.
And right now, the rules were written in blood.