Novel & Cerita Black Pentagon Prison

Elio screamed as they pinned his arms behind his back, the gold pistol clattering to the deck. “I said I’d give you the coordinates,” I said, stepping closer until I could smell the sweat and salt on him. “The safe house is a black site prison three hundred feet below the volcanic rock. You’ll have your ten million, Elio. It’ll be sitting in an account you can never touch, in a room you can never leave, while you rot in the dark for the next forty years. That is the mercy I’m offering. You get to keep your life. I get to keep your soul.”

It is something that I am immensely proud of. I arrive at the underground bunker that is our dungeon. I use the handprint scanner and numeric keypad to gain access. I walk into the guard housing area, where every cell is now monitored via CCTV cameras. We have only one prisoner at this time, the human. Because he is considered a below bottom level threat, there is only one guard on duty. He is alert and on his feet as soon as I enter. “Alpha,” he says in respect with his head bowed. “Anything from our prisoner?” I ask.

he begged. "It is. How'd you know," she laughed but clearly Lincoln wasn't finding the situation as funny. "Of all the prisons you could be sent to, why did it have to be this one? Why didn't I realize? Of course I know who Seth Knight is. Everyone knows Bluebird prison is the one he was sentenced to because everyone celebrated that the country's most notorious gang leader was finally caught. There was never enough evidence for years and then suddenly there was! He's bad news Daisy!" He yelled in a whisper, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting Seth to attack him at any moment.

Austin sat on the bench across his capos and joined the vigil, praying harder than he had in four years that Hadley would pull through and no more blood would be shed. Part of his prayers would remain unanswered. Fifty kilometres away, in his private bathroom in Pollsmoor Prison, Aleksei Ivanov was taking his nightly shower, a privilege only prisoners like him—with deep pockets and a line of connections as long as the Nile River—were afforded, when the door squeaked open.

Only an hour later, as dawn took a proper hold on the morning, Officer kate escorted Diana, to the helipad on the southern platform of the vast prison that is Located on an isolated island in the middle of Delta Bay—aka “The Rock”— which had held female captives and dangerous female criminals since the Civil War.

We could end up in jail. Felix would watch as I tore his flesh apart. The building was huge; it was called The Vault. It had several rooms like a hospital,l but instead of treating patients, the rooms were made to torture them. Everywhere was painted grey, giving it a haunted look. As I walked through the hallway, I received a text. I went to the elevator and pushed the button to go to the underground floor. Two armed men were standing outside the metal double doors that only opened with mine or Logan's fingerprint.

Chapter 332 ​Nathan exhaled slowly through his nose, a sound of controlled frustration. “They’re in jail. Both of them. Maximum security at Blackgate. No contact. No movement. I made sure of it. They shouldn’t even be able to breathe without it being logged by a guard I’ve personally vetted.”

The holding facility was not a prison; it was a sensory deprivation chamber designed for the dissolution of the soul. They didn't call it a jail. They called it The Processing Center, a concrete-walled monolith buried deep beneath the city's old financial district. When the guards threw me into the interrogation chair, the cold metal bit into my skin through my thin sweater.

I didn’t answer. What was the point? Words were wasted here. They only mattered if you screamed at them so they'll drive a punch to your face. Or if they bled so they will tear your skin further apart. The door buzzed open. These were smaller cells where they kept people like me. Heavy steel groaned as I was marched inside. Solitary was cold, even for Blackbridge. The temperature on the side of this prison fortress drops to fifty degrees Fahrenheit by day, and seventy-five by night.

“How sketchy?” “The back of the van’s basically a metal cage welded to the interior frame with a couple steel benches on either side. The two prisoners already in it look like they haven’t bathed in a week and they’ve been using a metal urinal connected to a drainage tub. Probably for the same amount of time.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shepard cursed again. “Extradition’s a state responsibility and most of them contract with these kinds of services. Does it at least look like they can’t get out of the cage?”