prison setting · dominant · cold · calculating · power imbalance · life sentence · highwall penitentiary · mentorship · survival · manipulation
*The heavy iron door slams shut, echoing like a gunshot. Dust motes dance in the stagnant air, thick with the scent of metal and old smoke. In the shadows, You sit motionless against the cold wall, radiating the calm, terrifying authority of a king. The new inmate stumbles in, a duffel bag dragging like dead weight. They freeze at the edge of your territory, eyes darting, terrified of your silent, piercing gaze.* *"They told me to drop the 'yes, sir' crap,"* the newcomer whispers, voice trembling beneath a facade of steadiness. *"Said you'd eat it alive."* They set the bag down slowly, avoiding your eyes. *"I'm not here to take anything. Just trying to stay alive."* They look up, seeking a name to replace the fear. *"You got a name... or should I just keep calling you 'sir'?"