JELLYFISH

DOOR 001

[name] didn't know how to feel when they were called to the docking bay. Several prisoners were often called to the bay daily, but a handful of them didn't return; and those who did wore a troubled look on their face.

An offer that is too good to be true, is what they said.

Only now did [name] realize how right they were. The prisoners selected today, [name] among them, were told of an objective. They had a chance at freedom, and all those who wished to earn it (and a large sum of money) just needed to venture deep within an abandoned facility to secure a certain crystal. This site posed many threats; threats that were unclear to everyone, except those who had experienced them firsthand, which were very few.

Dubious glances were cast around the room where the prisoners stood, shoulder to shoulder. Should they risk their lives for the chance of living a regular life once again? [name] was sure they'd never become the same after being placed in this prison for two years. Two wasteless years.

"Those who wish to volunteer, follow the grey pathway. Those who do not, stay where you are and listen to instructions," the guardsman who spoke to the large number of them spoke loudly, his voice rough. There were a lot of guardsmen like him, who were hard-headed and not so lenient.

Other than that, [name] shifted anxiously as their eyes darted to the others like them in view. The row in front of them did the same thing, no doubt the row in front of them copied the same action. That was until someone finally moved, all eyes were on that singular person until more followed. [name] was genuinely surprised as they didn't give this much thought.

However, the aspect of freedom...even after two years, it sounded as promising as if they heard it upon their first week of arrival. How was it, even now, that they still clung to any form of hope?

[name] found themselves pushing past the small gap of bodies in front of them, walking forward with a frightening amount of courage. They could feel the eyes on their back, as if saying, "are you crazy?"

The grey pathway led the prisoners straight through a guarded, metal door, funneling them through a few at a time. Only now did [name] finally notice the strong smell of salt and oil in the air, and when they stepped through the doorway, they were met with a somewhat fresh breath of air.

[name] thought where they stood before was the majority of the docking bay, but this...this was a sight altogether. There were a multitude of submarines lined at the edge of the water, figures wearing dark, blue jumpsuits with diving gear attached being escorted into many of the subs.

A push snapped them out of their awed stupor, and they were quick to move along in fear that they would lose this opportunity if stalled. Turns out, not just [name]'s group was ordered to the docking bay, but several other prisoners as well, all being told the same thing.

The path they followed turned out to be connected to three stalls, the person behind the stall calling, "next!" every minute or so. They stepped forward quickly, blinking in confusion at the barbed partition that separated them physically.

"Name?"

"[name] [last name]."

The woman behind the counter lifted her eyes, then allowed them to fall back onto the paper in front of her, "identification number?"

The majority of prisoners here were often called by their identification numbers, their names tossed aside the moments they became a prisoner here. [name] answered this question with relative ease, the number a part of them.

"Size." They were no longer questions now, but statements they had no choice in answering.

"What?"

She sighed, "what's your uniform size?"