Im A Guard Stationed At A Secret Government Prison の小説・ストーリー

"Guards. I called my special guards inside to carry her out, and I signaled to them to do the usual. Arrrrrhrhrrhh…. ! They took her outside as she screamed so loudly while my special guards beat her up. This is the black market prison; no one is special, male or female. But what about this AK-407? Was she so special? "Come over here; call Gaurd 001 for me," I said to my servants.

Michael‘s POV In the grim confines of my cell, the air hangs thick with despair. The stark, gray walls echo the chilling stillness that surrounds me, a constant reminder of my isolation. Yet, amidst this dreary solitude, my status ensures a degree of untouchable authority—courtesy of my old friend, Officer Jenkins. His subtle nods and discreet passes of extra comforts affirm that, even here, my influence lingers, warding off any potential threats or discomforts from less sympathetic inmates.

The towering gates of the maximum-security prison loomed ahead, a foreboding sight that signaled the beginning of his incarcerated life. Upon arrival, the air crackled with authority as officers meticulously followed protocols to admit Ejay into the highly secure institution. Each step within the facility was shadowed by vigilant guards, their watchful eyes a constant reminder of the severity of his confinement. As he passed through multiple checkpoints, heavy doors sealed behind him, locking away any remnants of freedom he once possessed. Ejay was ushered into a cell within the confines of the maximum-security prison, the iron bars a stark testament to the formidable nature of his lifelong

Kiara gritted. The guard laughed out. "Did you say government?" He asked. "Hey guys! She just said government will catch up with us!" The other guards laughed too. But soon his laughter turned sour and an angry expression crossed his face. "Government doesn't have a say in this Imperial!" He snarled at her. "Let me have a burger, this child is hungry.” Kiara said to him. "Sure your inmates will all get food but you won't be getting any." The guard said.

I believed it led to the row of cells, and so obviously, there was a guard stationed outside the door. He hadn’t seen me yet. His eyes were closed, with his head leaning back against the wall. A few strands of dirty blonde hair fell over his forehead. One hand was placed firmly on a gun. ‘Turn back now,’ a harsh voice whispered in my head. I should listen. It wasn’t like the guard would let me past him, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to see Maximo’s locked-up prisoners. I had come here to remind myself of the dangerous man I was dealing with, to not get carried away. And I’ve gotten that.

“Let’s do this. It would be best to know if they have fixed him or if they have more work to do.” Onyx leads me to the third floor, which hosts many rooms. In front of each door is a guard. “Are these all prisoners?” I whisper. “They are, but their mental health on most of them holds them captive the most. They will all be freed when they are well again.” He comments as he stops in front of a door. “Will you stay with me?” I look into his eyes, and he sees I am nervous. “I will not leave your side unless you demand it.” “Thank you.” I kiss him softly and nod to the guard before me. The movements slow before me as the guard steps to the side, swipes his card, and opens the door allowing me ac

And with that, he walked toward the convoy—not just a man returning from war, but a husband returning to the woman he fought the whole world to protect. He was her sword. Her shield. Her vengeance. And now. he would be her peace. Meanwhile – Maximum Security Detention Facility, New York City 3:12 PM – Holding Cell C4 The metal door clanged shut with the sound of a sentence carved in stone. Adrian St. Marc lay unmoving on the side of his cot, clad in a plain orange jumpsuit, wrists handcuffed in front of him. The cold metal dug into his skin, but he didn't move. His eyes stared forward, blank but calculating.

I work as a security guard at a luxury residential complex. My daily routine is simple but demands attention to detail. I register visitors, patrol the grounds, help residents park or move items, and handle occasional emergencies. One morning, a man suddenly showed up at the security booth. He wore an expensive suit and a luxury watch—clearly one of the wealthy residents. He placed a paper bag full of cash on the table and said: “Could you do me a favor in the underground parking garage? Afterward, this money is yours.”

Boredom would definitely kill me before my captors did. I sighed and got up from the bed. If I was going to be a prisoner, I might as well explore. “Ahhh,” I shrieked the minute I opened the door. There was a man there. He had on a suit and glasses, looking like one of those FBI secret agents people. “My God you terrified me.” He pursed his lips hard. “Hello miss. I am your personal guard when the Bosses aren't around.” A guard. Why did I think I was alone here?

Inside, Orion prowled with growing excitement, sensing freedom approaching with each step. “What about my personal effects?” I asked, playing my part. “Already transferred,” replied the guard briskly. “Standard procedure.” We moved through the prison with purposeful efficiency, the guards exchanging brief nods with staff we passed. I noted with hidden satisfaction how several regular guards seemed oddly unfocused, movements sluggish, eyes glazed. Drugged, most likely—not enough to render them completely incapacitated but enough to dull their perceptions. As we neared the security checkpoint between cell blocks, I tensed slightly, but the guard at my side gave an almost imperceptible squeeze