Huntah Huntah

The prisoners would be in a prison van. The windows were mere slits in the walls, and the glass used was bullet proofed. Their hands were cuffed, but there were seats for them to sit down on. They were not wearing their original clothes, instead an orange one which flashed their ID.

Jet would look down on the ground, as the van was heading to the prison. He kept murmuring stuff like "I shouldn't have done this." and "It's their fault, not mine." to himself.

"Ah shuddup." A cop from the front said, a wall of wire separated him from the rest of the prisoners, "I can barely hear myself think over yer stupid mumblings." He took a bite from his donut.

Jet heard the cop and looked at the wall of wire that separated him and the cops. He then quieted down and stared at the van's ceiling.

"Hello," a charismatic voice greeted, it came from a man, rather handsome with his hair combed back. He sat on the other side from Jet. "What are you in here for?"

"Stuff I regret doing." Jet simply said. "...I destroyed important political sites, waged war on some governments and took the lives of many innocent people." He then looked up at the man.

"You?" He asked him.

"Man, you're in here for rad stuff, I couldn't compare to that," he laughed lightly, "I robbed a bank but I wasn't good at it."

"Hey, it's okay. Robbing a bank isn't that bad, I wish that's what I would do if I was to be sent here. And besides," Jet too chuckled for a bit. "That means your sentence shouldn't be that long and you'll be out in no time." Jet sighed. "Freedom is taken for granted and we aren't grateful for having it until it's too late."

He looked back again at the man. "So, how long's your prison term?"

"Oh? You don't know?" The man looked confused, and then a looj of realisation crossed his face, "Kakin doesn't have Yorkian prisons. We've been sold to a company, and their going to squeeze us dry."

Jet's eyes widened for an instant, but they quickly returned to the usual, sad shape they had. "I see...They're going to lock me behind bars, they said at first."

Still, living in jail or being a slave is the same thing, it's just under different appearances. Kind of like synonyms, such as "Hard" and "Difficult", or "mistake" and "error"."

Jet scratched his ear for a second. "It's only fair we introduce ourselves. I am Jet, Jet "Nefarious" Hussein. You?" He asked the man for his name.

"Oh my name is T-"

"OI!" The same guard shouted, he hit the wire with his bat, it made a twang sound, "I'm tryna listen over here!"

Jet quickly turned to the guard when he shouted and hit the wire with his bat, making a sound.

"Not the ideal place for a conversation, don't you think?" He quietly murmured to T.

"Agreed." The man said to Jet, "we'll just have to wait."

The van rolled down a road, and in front of it was an imposing building. The building was a drab grey, bars covered the small windows. It squatted like an ugly toad in front of a massive plantation. A fence ringed the entire thing, there was a yellow sign in front of it which warned that the fence was electric.

In front of this monstrosity, gates opened with a clank and ushered in the van, before they closed. They were in the prison grounds.

Jet looked around the building, it was a desolate place that reflected his life now. He did nothing but follow the other prisoners, as they were all leg cuffed.

They trailed out of the van in a line. Guards watched over the prisoners, batons in their hands. Once they got inside, a man, ugly in appearance would greet them. "Strip." He told them, "for inspection, we have to determine whenever or not you're healthy."