The Pale Prince

Guantanamo

The tiny cells of Guantanamo Bay were cold, dark, congested places. The small island prison had grown fat and congested with the prisoners within -men who would never see the light of day again void their two hours of recreational activity. The men all came from different backgrounds - terrorists, mass murderers, psychopaths. The entire prison was a bustling, depressed place - the greys of the walls reflecting the resounding feeling that pulsated over the criminals: fear, fear and self-loathing powerful enough to govern the prison system and steer the men under the thumb of the brutal guards, who's actions were hidden from authorities by background security checks and deletions into the system - dummy files in place of the deleted footage. The conspiracy was known; the few who had left Guantanamo Bay and had been sent to other less packed prisons had told the stories, though few people believed them and those that did felt sympathetic until reading the roll sheet, to which they subsequently forgot the conspiracy at all - the people of the UNARC were perfectly content to let the scum - a term deemed not by those who were imprisoned - rot away behind bars for the rest of their days; some saw it as a mercy that the criminals did not deserve.

Behind the bars and in the administrative rooms were the dormitories for the young guards - mostly composed of Russian, Chinese and Korean's (the small nation having been absorbed into the Chinese Tri-State much like Japan to the American Tri-State) - who felt that they would be able to keep the peace in a place of ungodly chaos. A large quantity of the Russian guards had gained prior experience within Siberian Gulags and many of them had transferred from the freezing cold prisons - the locations still in use, commissioned by the last Chinese President of the UNARC to begin operations once more - to the warmer climate of the bay, enjoying the perks that the workers gained from the prison that was truly described as 'the closest thing to hell on Earth'. The guards protected the prison and subsequently their pride viciously - there was no room for 'bad behaviour' in 'The Bay'.

There was one prison cell in particular however, that stood out amongst the rest. Unlike the other cells everyone avoided this one, frightful of infection or another made up horrific death that could befall them if they came into contact with the creature that lay within the cell. The tiny room that housed the prisoner was - like the others of its kind - grey and simple, with water running down the walls due to the cell's depth and its closeness to the ocean; in the corner of the small room there was an almost defunct toilet with a dirty sink sat in the corner like some form of unwanted yet oddly decorate ornament - the dull, dirtied white gleaming brightly against the dark concrete walls. A slap of the grey material sat at the other side of the room with a neither clean nor dirty mattress sitting atop it. A pillow - largely empty of its innards - sat at the head of the bed, whilst a sheet was sown harshly upon the mattress, the cream covering covered by an almost equally thin quilt.

Unlike the other cells however, this cell went further with its security, its rules designed for only the most dangerous criminals - in this case, the most dangerous criminal to ever live; the cell itself was largely formed of Carbon Fibre- the material being shifted and manipulated in order to reinforce the grey material - and was fixed a series of steel cables that led down to a separate chamber at the bottom of the Prison Facility. The area was clean and well kept - something that had been requested by the prisoner on the day of his arrest and condemnation by the strongest man to ever live and something that was largely questionable considering the state of the rest of the penitentiary - and led to several separate rooms. Instead of being allowed to interact with the rest of the prisoners, the guilty party in question's chamber was drawn down into the separate chamber, where his own facilities awaited him. A separate guard unit - specifically armed with rubber bullets and aggressive pistol-like weaponry that ejected sound-waves built to paralyse entire crowds of trouble makers, including but not limited to violent protesters and prison outbreaks - were employed to guard this separate area and subsequently the prisoner who lived within it, the utmost care being given to make sure that the contents of the cell didn't escape from its capture or - as some regarded it - its containment. There was no recreational time for this particular prisoner; no chance of the prisoner making any friends within the jail or joining one of the many gangs that had been set up over the years and generations - there was only the sterile security of his cell and its extension, the only sure thing that the prisoner had.