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Beckett wakes up abruptly as the guard shoves open his cell door. He's been awake for what feels like days, unable to sleep amidst the ever-present fear of being taken to court at any moment. His clothes are dirty and wrinkled from weeks of wear without laundering. The other inmates around him exchange glances, silently commiserating as he's led away through the maze of bars and steel doors.

When they reach the courthouse, guards roughly push him into a holding cell where a dozen or so others await their fate. Beckett looks around nervously, wondering how they could possibly owe enough money to end up here. The air is thick with tension as people whisper about their own cases and wonder who will be next.

After what seems like an eternity, the judge finally takes the bench and begins calling names. When Beckett hears his own name called out, a lump forms in his throat. He stands up slowly, feeling dizzy from lack of food and sleep, as guards on either side of him lead him into the center of the room.

The prosecutor steps forward, presenting documents detailing Beckett's alleged debt. It seems impossible - there must be some kind of mistake. The judge looks down at him sternly, informing him that he has been found guilty and must serve time as a debtor slave until his debts are paid off. Panic begins to rise in Beckett's throat; this can't be happening to him. He tries to protest but is quickly silenced by the bailiff.

As the judge pronounces sentence, Beckett feels hot tears streaming down his face. His life as he knew it is over; from now on, he belongs to the state. The sklavenhalsband

The courtroom falls silent as the judge pronounces his sentence. Beckett feels a tightness around his neck and chest as he's led back to the holding cell, now wearing an unfamiliar sklavenhalsband made of cold, unforgiving metal. He collapses onto a wooden bench, unable to process what has just happened. The other debtors offer him sympathetic glances but say nothing; they know all too well that speaking out of turn will only earn them a worse fate.

Hours seem to stretch into days as Beckett waits to be taken away. When the guards finally arrive, they bundle him onto a transport truck and take him to what he can only imagine is his new home: a bleak facility where the inmates are trained and conditioned like animals. As the truck pulls up outside, Beckett forces himself to stand tall despite the stiffness in his aching limbs and tries not to show any fear or weakness. It's the only way he'll survive here.

The guards roughly shove him through a set of double doors and into a dimly lit room. A woman with sharp, cold eyes stands at a desk nearby, inspecting papers and making notes. "You must be Beckett," she says curtly, not even bothering to meet his gaze. "Take off your clothes." Stunned into silence by her abrupt demand, he simply stares back at her in disbelief. The woman sighs impatiently and waves a hand toward the floor. "Now!"

Hesitantly, Beckett begins to undress. His movements are slow and stiff as he struggles with the realization of his situation. As each item of clothing falls to the floor, a new sense of vulnerability washes over him. He feels naked not only physically but also emotionally; his dignity is gone, replaced by an icy chill that creeps through his veins. The woman at the desk watches him impassively, making notes on her clipboard as if he were nothing more than a piece of meat about to be inspected.

When Beckett is finally standing there in only his underwear, she looks up at him and speaks again. "You have a decent enough physique," she says coldly, "but you're obviously not used to this kind of work. Tomorrow, you'll report to the training facility." Then, without another word or even a glance in his direction, she returns her attention to her papers and ignores him. Beckett swallows hard against the lump forming in his throat and does his best to keep it together as he's led away by guards toward an uncertain future as a debtor slave.

Beckett slowly follows the guards through the maze-like facility, feeling small and exposed in his underwear. Each time they turn a corner or pass through another set of doors, he can't help but wonder if this is it - the end of any hope for freedom. The place reeks of fear and despair; every sound echoes with the anguish of those who have already lost everything.

As they approach what appears to be a gymnasium, Beckett's heart sinks even further. He knows what happens here all too well; he's seen it happen to other inmates during his time at the facility. They're trained like animals, their bodies pushed to the limit as they learn new skills and techniques meant to make them more efficient workers. The thought of enduring such treatment fills him with terror, but there's no escape; he belongs to the state now, and they will use him however they see fit.

The guards shove him roughly toward a group of other debtors standing in front of what appears to be their new instructor. Beckett takes a shaky breath as he tries to steel himself for whatever horrors lie ahead. The man standing before them is tall and broad-shouldered, his face adorned with several days' worth of stubble that only serves to make him look more intimidating. His eyes scan over the group, assessing each one individually before fixing on Beckett with a predatory gleam. "Welcome," he says, his voice cold and empty as a grave, "to your new life."

Beckett swallows hard, feeling the lump in his throat grow even larger as he tries to speak. "Please," he manages weakly, "can you at least tell me what I've done wrong? Why am I here?" The other debtors exchange glances but say nothing; they know better than to question their own fates. The instructor raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer to him.

"You don't need to know the details," he says curtly. "Your job is to learn how to serve your time as best you can. Now, follow me." Beckett hesitates for a moment before reluctantly following the man deeper into the gymnasium. As they walk, he notices rows of exercise equipment lining the walls: free weights, treadmills, stationary bikes, and more. The air is thick with the sound of clanging metal and heavy breathing.

The instructor leads him to a small group near the back where some of the other debtors are already warming up. One of them shoots Beckett a sympathetic glance before returning to their exercises. As he begins stretching alongside them, he tries not to let his fear show on his face but can feel it etched into every muscle and bone. The instructor watches him for a moment before nodding almost imperceptibly.

"Alright then," he says at last, "let's see what you're made of." And with that, the training begins.

Beckett hesitantly follows the instructor's orders, doing his best to keep up with the exercises and maintain a straight back despite his growing exhaustion. Each muscle in his body screams for relief as they push themselves harder than he ever thought possible. The other debtors grunt and pant around him, their breath coming in ragged gasps.

As the training session wears on, Beckett begins to notice a pattern: those who show the most initiative and dedication are rewarded with fewer chores and even occasional praise from the guards. He tries his best to emulate their behavior, knowing that this is his only chance for survival. His muscles ache and burn, but he refuses to give up.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of grueling exercises, the instructor calls out, "That's enough for today!" Relief floods through Beckett as he drops to the ground, his body trembling from exhaustion. He watches as the other debtors slowly file out of the gymnasium, heading toward their respective cells for another long night of restless sleep and terrifying dreams.

"Beckett," the instructor says calmly, "come here." He swallows hard, not sure if he's done something wrong, and hesitantly approaches the man. The instructor takes a step closer and studies his face carefully. "You did well today," he says at last. "I think you have potential." Beckett feels a jolt of hope course through him despite the desperate situation he finds himself in. The instructor continues, "Tomorrow we'll start teaching you how to use tools properly." A hint of a smile touches his lips for the briefest moment before disappearing just as quickly.