Years in isolation, surrounded by vicious, unstable criminals. Never knowing when you'll be attacked—or when the guards will turn on you at your weakest moment. But this prison? It's different. Only the strongest, or the maddest, dare to survive here.
"Welcome, prisoner. This is your new home. Yet, there is a chance for freedom. Blood, sweat, and steel will be your tools. Survive long enough, prove your worth, and earn your release by completing the ultimate task: building the cage that imprisons an Eldritch God.
What happens after that—no one knows. Enlightenment? World peace? Global enslavement? The end of all existence? Perhaps all of the above. But your path is clear: survive, fight, and toil in the shadow of madness. Only then will you be free. Are you ready to face hell and claw your way back for your freedom, prisoner?"
That dreadful speech echoed inside the shipping container, mixing with the restless clatter of chains and the thick stench of rust and human waste. The cold, pitted metal floor beneath my bare feet gnawed at my senses, grounding me in the grim reality of my new life. There would be no denial, no fantasy to escape into, only brutal, unforgiving truth.
A light tap on my shoulder snapped me from my thoughts. I turned to see a boy—barely a teenager—with a nervous smile etched on his face. "What do you think will happen when we get there?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
I shrugged. "Whatever happens, don't look weak or desperate," I replied. "They'll eat you alive."
This wasn't my first time in prison. But even I felt a gnawing fear clawing at my resolve. The devil's bargain we had made for the faint promise of freedom weighed heavily on all of us. Most of us had life sentences or were waiting for death row. To dangle freedom in front of us, like fresh meat in front of starving dogs, was a cruel genius.
But what other choice did we have? Wait for a justice system that might prove us innocent—decades too late? Or try to escape, knowing the odds of dying in the attempt were far higher than success? And even if you did escape—where would you go? How long could you run before the hiding became its kind of prison?
My thoughts shattered as the container doors screeched open, flooding the cramped, filthy space with blinding light. Chains clinked and rattled as we were yanked forward, stumbling into the unknown. Someone cried out in terror, their sobs swallowed by the stark sunlight.
And then that voice boomed again, deep and unyielding.
"Welcome to Deadman's Reach: The Workshop.
You've all been given a knife, five cans of food, three bottles of water, 250 credits, and three jumpsuits. Some of you will be assigned to specific jobs based on your backgrounds. Remember this: your bodies and souls belong to us. You die when we decide.
A chemical cocktail now runs through your veins, suppressing your primal urges. In simple terms, you've all been chemically castrated—for the greater good. Overpopulation is not a concern you will face here. Welcome to hell. We hope you survive the experience."
YOU ARE READING
The Kiss of The Deep:: Deadmen's Reach
Science FictionA woman on death row is taken to an underwater prison that is built to imprison a Lovecrafting God if she wants her freedom she will have to kill, steal, and make powerful allies to get it will she lose her sanity or humanity, in order her to surviv...
