Daniel exchanged nods with Katka, who hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture. A promising sign. Despite Katka's prolonged recovery, there was no lingering animosity from the fight - it was evident to everyone that Daniel hadn't initiated it. They had been pitted against each other by those higher up the hierarchy, and their opinions did not matter. It could have been worse; they could have all ganged up on him, kicking him around without a care for whether he survived or not.

With his new strategy of staying alert, Daniel knew he needed to establish connections among the downgraded, a group he had carefully avoided for over five months. He would respond to questions or requests if they arose, but he had never initiated conversations and evaded answering personal questions. When Sennoy is eventually out, his fate would partly depend on the support of the other inmates including the downgraded. They could help him when necessary if not protect him. Svetka could also influence his fate, perhaps by arranging for another inmate to spend the night in the house to serve everyone instead of him, or by persuading Stakhan to take Daniel as his mashka, preventing Bright from claiming him for himself.

Daniel no longer dwelled on the fact that he was sinking deeper – fuck it, enough lying to himself, it was time to accept the reality- he was knee-deep in shit. If it meant sucking another dick, looking into someone's eyes with unwavering devotion, he would do it. He was willing to do whatever it took to secure his freedom and avoid death in the process. Looking toward the distant future, when he would regain control of his life, he was determined to find a way to repay Alexander for the ruin he had caused. This goal fueled him, giving him the strength to confront the grim outlook and preventing him from smashing things - his own head against the prison walls, for example. Sennoy had been right - the desire for revenge helped him endure life's hardships.

If all went as planned, he would be out of the prison a month or two after Sennoy. He envisioned heading straight from the prison to catch a train to St. Pete - to distance himself from Alexander. From there, he would board a plane and start anew... Farewell, dreadful black streak; hello, new life.

Daniel smiled wistfully as he grabbed the bag containing the sewn mittens - the foreman had instructed him to deliver them to the storeroom before lunch. He stumbled when he heard an angry hiss nearby.

"Why the smirk, Dashka? Got Sennoy on the brain?"

"No," Daniel replied, quickly scanning the number of figures surrounding him, counting four pairs of legs, which sent a chill down his spine. It seemed Bright had taken notice of him again after the fight with Katya and wasn't going to miss an opportunity to target him. If they were alone, Bright could let him go after a few kicks, but if Bright had his loyal pack with him, the torment could last much longer. In such situations, Bright typically cornered him while his gang shielded them, purposely speaking loudly to drown out any conversation. There was no use in complaining - Sennoy might have intervened, but Bright would have retaliated even worse.

It was the grind time, the common barracks eerily empty, even the guards stationed just outside, preparing for the imminent influx of inmates. It felt like a trap, a setup. The fucking foreman had colluded with Bright, unexpectedly assigning him to deliver half day's worth of sewing to the common barracks instead of the usual evening delivery by the entire team. Daniel's armpits were damp with sweat, his mouth sour with a sense of impending trouble. Everything indicated that this time, he wouldn't escape with just a few bruises.

"Tell me straight, Dashka, you've contacted Sennoy, haven't you? No need to lie, you won't catch heat for it," Bright grinned, knowing he had Daniel cornered, his crew closing in like a pack of wolves.

"No, never got that close," Daniel squeezed the sack in his grip. "He never touches me, always uses a towel."

"You're feeding me bullshit!", Dashka!" Bright slammed the wall, making Daniel flinch. "Never seen him hanging 'round someone so much before you. He used to be all grossed out by roosters, now he's always dragging you off somewhere. Sennoy's gone all queer for you, fits him right. I bet he's been grabbin' your ass, spill it!"

"He's careful, that's all," Daniel glanced around, hoping for a guard to show up. Should he yell for help?

"You're scared of him," Bright said. "Of course, he could snap you like a twig with just one left jab, that fucking boxer. But you should fear me more, Dashka. Sennoy will leave, but I'll stay. I could send you to gen pop, or I could make you mine. Your choice: get him contacted today in front of everyone or you're dead. Got it?"

Bright's anger simmered, pushing Daniel toward the pantry where he often met Sennoy. Daniel, feeling the pressure, tried to slip away.

"I-I gotta go. They're waiting," he dodged Bright's elbow, yelping as Bright's knee connected with his.

"No escape, Dashka," Bright elbowed him in the chest, driving him into the pantry. The sack snagged on the doorframe, mittens scattering on the floor. Daniel crumpled, struggling to breathe.

"I'll tear you apart and nobody will bat an eye," Bright threatened, drawing his knife. Daniel eyed a pencil on the floor, his only hope.

"Please, I'm not lying. Sennoy... He'll kill me," Daniel pleaded, stalling for time. Panic surged as Bright brandished his blade.

"Get up or..." Bright flicked his switchblade open, freezing Daniel with fear.

"Please," Daniel's heart raced as Bright pressed the blade to his chin, the threat palpable in his eyes.

"I'm gonna tear you apart like a hot dog, Dashka, and ain't nobody gonna do shit about it. You rat out to Sennoy, you're dead meat. I'll slice you up slow and then finish you off," Bright snarled, undoing his pants as Daniel eyed the door longingly, knowing he was stuck. It was a standoff, no way out. Sennoy'd made it clear from the start he wasn't sharing, so he would be thrown to general population. If he told Sennoy, Bright would cut him up, no doubt. Everywhere he looked, dead ends.

"Get up, strip," Bright ordered, flicking out his switchblade. "That's a lesson for you, you're getting too cocky under Sennoy's protection."

"Please, don't," Daniel pleaded, buying time as he rolled on the floor. Sennoy warned him he was being watched, but by who and was he seen being pushed into the pantry? Lunchtime would be his chance, the entire zone will pour in and he will scream for help.

His fingers stumbled upon something thin and long as he felt around until he finally caught hold of it. He traced along its length, trying to identify it, then suddenly stopped as he realized what it was - the pencil. It must have fallen from the foreman's belongings when...

"Get up cock sucker. Or..." Bright flicked out the knife, blade glinting menacingly- obviously, sharpened with passion. "Why don't I just cut something off? Would you like that?"

"Please," Daniel murmured, weighing his odds of survival. Panic gripped him, paralyzing him like prey facing a predator. His chances of making it out unscathed were slim, almost nonexistent. He tightly gripped the makeshift weapon, feeling as vulnerable as a mouse cornered by a cat. The narrow escape route seemed to vanish before his eyes.

Bright squatted down, placing the knife blade flat against Daniel's chin, compelling him to meet his gaze. Daniel gazed blankly into the stray, unsettling green eyes devoid of humanity. The icy touch of the blade sent shivers down his spine, igniting a wave of panic that reverberated in his ears. Abruptly, his neck seared with a sudden heat, dampening with sweat. Daniel struggled to suppress a groan as he remained locked in a stare with the deranged man upon whom his fate hung precariously.

His mind buzzed with confusion, anxiously seeking an escape route. A trickle of sweat ran down his neck, contrasting with his turbulent thoughts, seeping into his clothes. Then it hit him. Bright just told what every pakhan is afraid of... It was right there in front of him. All he needed was to swallow his pride, rise to his feet, get closer the door, open it, and deliver a blow to Bright's face. A single strike, and Bright would plummet to the depths of the caste he relished tearing apart. But would Bright survive among those he had brutally raped and nearly beaten to death? It was a valid question. A strange calm washed over him, allowing him to breathe freely, feeling liberated.

"Alright. Can I just stretch a bit? Or maybe moisten it in my mouth first?" Daniel batted his eyelashes, offering a seductive smile, and reached out gently, letting go of the pencil that was no longer needed. "Please."

"What?" Bright, caught off guard by the unexpected compliance, blinked in confusion. A complete system failure. Total freeze. Exactly what was needed.

"I'll do what you want. Today, during lunchtime," Daniel, maintaining a soft, inviting smile, got up and touched his zipper. As Bright stared at him in confusion, still squatting and stunned, Daniel moved a step closer to the door. "Should I close it, perhaps? There's a rope for roosters, I won't touch the handle. I'd rather Sennoy doesn't walk in. He's watching over me. Hopefully, he won't catch on."

"Yes, shut it," Bright exclaimed, then grinned suggestively, locking the door. "You're one crafty bastard. Always shy, eyes to the ground, but deep down, you're a real piece of work. I get why Sennoy's changed his tune all of a sudden. You looking for a tougher boss?"

"Maybe I am," Daniel replied, licking his dry lips and batting his eyelashes. He knew he was good-looking, so much so that even straight guys would stare, feeling defeated afterward. Bright was no different; he eyed him greedily, bit his lip.

"You enjoy being fucked?"

Daniel, clutching the rope, shook his head uncertainly. Sounds came into focus from afar, footsteps and muffled conversations echoing down the long corridor. Time seemed to slow, stretching like taut rubber. His heart thudded loudly at irregular intervals. Daniel exhaled sharply and swung the door open, stumbling backward. Bright, still wearing a fixed smile, flushed crimson like all redheads when he realized he'd been tricked. He lunged forward, throwing a punch, but it was too late. His crew, not wanting to attract attention to the pantry, thankfully backed off. The other inmates murmured in their usual rumble, confirming what had just transpired. Daniel dodged a fist that narrowly missed his cheekbone and swiftly struck Bright in the ear with a deft, cat-like motion, touching pakhan with his bare hand. Exposed for everyone to see.

A hush fell over the room. Bright, shaking his head in disbelief, slowly comprehended what had occurred. His face drained of color, turning ashen. His eyes, once bright green, now seemed like dark voids, consumed by stress-induced dilation, leaving only blackened sockets in their wake.

"Fuck, he got contacted..." Lemon, Bright's own lackey, breathed out in shock and disgust, recoiling at the sight. Bright turned helplessly towards Lemon, attempting to say something.

Daniel stood tall, his pride evident as he vibrated with triumphant fury, his grin widening in gloating satisfaction as he looked upon his vanquished adversary. That was it, Bright, once pakhan, was reduced to nothing. And into the world emerged a downgraded, a rooster, a piece of crap without the right to speak, only to be beaten, raped, and kicked under a bunk. The same realization dawned on the downgraded souls who had huddled against the wall, the despicable cohort to which their recent tormentor now belonged.

Amidst the stunned, suppressed silence, a vicious, hoarse howl pierced through. Svetka was the first to charge in, followed by the others who rushed after their leader, pushing Daniel with their shoulders in their frenzy, consumed by blind, animalistic rage. Bright frantically pulled out the knife, attempting to ward them off, but Palka, who had once spent a week hospitalized, threw himself at Bright's feet and brought him crashing down.

In a flash, the chow hall erupted into chaos, filled with shouting, whistling, and the thunder of boots. Daniel glared angrily at the pile of bodies under which Bright had vanished, his nostrils flaring with frustration as he breathed shallowly and rapidly. The sensation was intoxicating as if he had been injected with the finest quality drug, flooding his veins with euphoria. He savored the feeling, relishing the stolen opportunity fate had granted him to rise above the grim reality of prison life, indulging greedily in the sight of Bright's downfall. But he knew he should enjoy the moment as the inevitable reckoning would soon follow.

And retribution arrived.

A forceful blow to his ribs, crunching beneath the weight of a heavy boot. A scream choked in his throat, stifled by a merciless kick to his thigh. They descended upon him, the troops led by the king himself, their expressions grim and stern, delivering the punishment fitting for the outlaw rooster. Daniel locked eyes with Sennoy as he crashed to the ground, a trace of triumph still evident amidst the agony, only to be met with a shocking sight. In the familiar gray depths, he had so often gazed into, there was now fury and... a hint of apprehension. He felt a jolt of satisfaction as he realized the potential threat Sennoy perceived in him, forced to acknowledge the danger he posed. But his joy was short-lived, replaced by searing pain as Sennoy delivered another blow to his thigh. He needed to explain quickly, to quell the violence before Sennoy could execute him in front of everyone, preventing further abuse by other roosters. Dodging another kick aimed at his face, he yelled desperately, trying to make himself heard amidst the chaos. His voice sounded strange, tinged with agitation, desperation, and fear.

"He ordered me to contact you today! Threatened to cut me if I refused! I had no choice!"

Sennoy, poised at the edge of tension, his stern features sharpened to their utmost, poised to strike, to crush, to kill, believed immediately – his brows shot upward, eyes widening with acute apprehension of the danger that was there but didn't materialize. With a wave of his hand, he halted his men, easing the tension in his shoulders, and sank down onto the ground, placing his hands behind his head like other inmates who lay prone after blows from batons. Guards clad in riot gear swiftly subdued the crowd with forceful blows, getting them to the ground.

"All right then. You live for now. At least until tonight's sit-down."

Daniel shut his eyes, feeling the overwhelming exhaustion closing in, overshadowing the recent thrill. He shifted onto his stomach, disregarding the throbbing, searing pain in his side and thigh, clasped his hands behind his head, and gazed ahead. The only inmate who didn't worry the authorities was the battered Bright. Daniel's gaze lingered on him almost absently - the swollen, bloodied, barely recognizable face of his adversary had lost its menacing significance, much like Daniel had lost his fleeting happiness. He had only exacerbated the situation; now, he could face retaliation following the outcome of the sit-down. Whether Sennoy would defend him remained uncertain.

As they stood up, Sennoy murmured, his gaze fixed nervously on the disoriented followers of Bright, "Head to the house. Lay low until evening. I'll get you out of work for today. Andron, make sure he gets there."

"All right," Daniel, searching Sennoy's face for a glimmer of encouragement, sighed quietly and hurried off. The queue at the serving window dispersed, creating a bustling pathway, allowing him passage, whereas before he'd been forced against the wall, letting everyone else pass. Those who used to ridicule him, confident in their superiority, now eyed him with fear. Daniel stole glances at them, feigning humility with his head bowed, yet relishing their apprehension nonetheless. His hunger for triumph, reawakened, savored their fear, storing it in his soul as a satisfying residue.

Another victory, this time authentic. Not orchestrated by anyone.