Devil's Prison

Chapter 1: Hollow Restraints, Tight Leash

His shackles on his neck and wrist prison and strangle him as it drags his body lifeless on the marble finish of the corridors bathed in red, brown and black. His restraints were as tough as tungsten and were thick enough to stop a tank shell. One by one, his senses are brought back, only to be welcomed by anything but good.

The first to come was his sight. The dim-lit room and the narrow halls darken his vision, more ways than one. His eyes were on the two men clad in white and black overalls who were pulling on chains attached to his shackles.

Next was his sense of smell, greeted by none other than the aforementioned metallic blood mixed with the smothering presence of faeces and a thick odour similar to oil. Combining the three scent made him near-collapse in unconsciousness as it was bad enough already.

Then, the ringing started as his hearing became present. At first, the buzzing was loud as if muffled the sounds of the obvious rattling of the chains restricting his movements. But as time passed, the conversation of both men in white began to form clear in his ears.

"You heard about the captain replacement referred by The Watch (a.k.a The WATCHLIST) to transfer here by tomorrow?" The first raised the topic as he glanced towards the second.

The second turned towards him with an uncomfortable look as he returned his gaze forward, "Heard it plenty. Enough to make me nauseous. I guess it's better than having no one to take charge of command."

"Are you serious?" The first pulled out his pack of cigarettes whilst chuckling, "You really trust those who came from the capitol? It's The Watch!  Like most of the inmates that are in here have either correlation to The Watch and or were experimentations by The Watch itself..." He rambled as he bit onto the cigarettes, lighting it up with one hand.

"You... Think too much. We're just guards like we have any say in the decisions made by the administration. It's not like The Watch has made this place to experiment on their subjects." The second guard rebuttal the argument brought up nonchalantly.

"Jamie, stop." The first guard spoke, "stop being boring."

"How bout you stop being annoying, MARCUS?"

now he got names, but not his. Jamie and Marcus. Those two names are alien to him, he has no recollection to anyone with them so he proceeds to check them off as irrelevant or not noteworthy. As they come to a double door built big and bulk as from his point of view, might be harder than he thought to break down. Standing stationary beside the vault-like doors was a woman in her early 20s, wearing an identical outfit to the two men in white. She greeted them by a fix of her glasses and a tap on her clipboard. Her hair is tied up into a bun as it pops out her fair skin and her red glossy lips.

"Yo, Laurey." Marcus greeted as he snuck his hand into his pockets, pulling out a piece of paper. Another unfamiliar name.

"It's Lauren, and FYI it's Corporal Lauren for you." The woman spoke as she twirls her pen in his direction, "Who's the new guy?"

Marcus looks at the paper that he pulled out from his pockets, "2... 0... 6? Tier 5, Block uh... "

Jamie snatches it out from his hands, "Are you actually stupid? It's upside down. And also there's no such thing as tier 5... Yet. It's 905. Tier 2, Block D."

Lauren checks her clipboard to validate the report whilst she glances from time to time at Marcus' cigarette. Now he knows what he is called in this place, 905. It's better than nothing at least. But now he has more information to understand; tiers. For now, what he can grasp is there is no more than tier 4 and he is currently tier 2-- whatever that might mean.

"Thanks, Jamie. You may enter," Lauren said as she opened the doors to let them in, but at the last second as their walkthrough, Lauren takes the cigarette from Marcus' mouth and throws it on the ground without a second thought, "Need I remind you that you can't smoke in this area?"

Marcus clicks his tongue as they pass Lauren as he silently mocks her by repeating her words.

As they stop at the entrance of the public halls, Marcus and Jamie released the chains but left the thick cuffs on his hands and neck. By that moment, 905s pain receptors start to process as the burning and awkwardness of the cuffs start to kick in as 905 jolts in pain. There were prisoners who looked at him and continued to do what they were previously doing but some took interest in him.

He looked down to see his overalls, which was a white and black t-shirt with the numbers: 905. It was good quality and is made with a resilient type of fabric that would ensure no tear and wear. Another guard approached him as he brought him to his cell at the furthest corner. He passed the mess hall which had most of the current prisoners sitting in groups, usually two or three. The mess hall wasn't cramped but wasn't entirely fancy either. As they pass through the mess hall, 905 stumbled upon a branching path which connected blocks and facilities. What piqued his interest the most was the 'reformation centre'. Passing through the hallways and paths, 905 seem to pick up the location of security cameras and detention wards. As he couldn't remember what his personality was before getting put into jail, observing his surroundings-- seemed natural to him.

As they arrive at his cell, shared by another inmate, the guard pushed him in as he locked the door.

"Stay here," the guard said, "There will be others coming for you soon. I don't want any of them getting hurt, you hear me!?"

905 nodded. He didn't speak as his throat felt parched and bruised but was he always like this? Or did he had no means or interest in vocal interaction? Either way, the guard left,  leaving him in a cell with one ceiling lamp in the centre of the room. It seems 905's cellmate is 611 as it was written on the bed.

After a few lazing minutes, a few men came and demanded 905 to come closer. He did what he was told as to not anger the guards which were along by their side. One of them was wearing a lab coat whilst displaying his workers ID in front.

"put your hands to the side," the man said as he takes out his notebook. This man had circular glasses and a lab coat whilst sporting black gloves. The man wrote down a few notes as he noticed 905's eye. He stared longly at 905 and stashed his notebook back into his pocket, "I'll also need to cover that eye of yours."

The man left after thanking 905. The guards unlocked his cell and looked at him, "rest for tonight. Tomorrow will be a big day for you."

905 sat at his bed while deducting his analysis. For now, he has to abide by the rules and see how everything goes out. But one thing for sure, he needs to escape. He not only needs a plan but allies. And the first person he must befriend might be the person who will be living under him fro the rest of his life here.

And the guard was right, tomorrow will be his 'big day'. But this was an understatement.

A really big understatement.