Prison Of The Dead Novels & Stories

"He tried to escape from the prison and caused a fire, and then died instantly in the fire." "I will come to pick you up tomorrow," declared Channing. "Okay." It was raining early the following day, and the entire city appeared to be covered in a blanket of grey. Channing was at Stella's side when she appeared at the Prison of City N door, all black from head to toe. They explained their reason for being here today to the officer at the registration counter. The prison guard then led them to the location where the deceased's bone ashes are kept, saying, "These are the relics and bone ashes of Jeffrey Radomil. You can sign here and then take them away."

He looked at the prisoners and pointed at the insect soldier, saying, “Listen up. All of you have one chance to fight him. Whoever survives will be pardoned.” The death row prisoners were overjoyed. They were all ruthless criminals who had enough blood on their hands to fill the sea. Now, all they had to do was survive against this creature to be pardoned for all their crimes. How could they not be excited? “I’ll go first!” a burly man with a bald head stepped forward and spoke in a booming voice. He was none other than the top-ranked murderer in the prison who could crush a locomotive with his bare hands. It had taken a lot of effort to capture him in the past.

I asked, remembering all the screams we heard. Kohen sighed softly and reached for my hand. We were in the front yard because it felt a little suffocating inside. I was filled with worry over Olga, Crawford and Henry. I was worried about what they'd do next. I am more worried about my friends than myself. “All the prisoners and guards in the maximum prison were wiped out. They were burned alive, and some of them died a gruesome death. I'm certain that Crawford managed to form another team of psychopaths, and that bitch is one of them.”

A deafening boom ripped through the underground kingdom. The golden eyes vanished beneath a storm of silver light. The chains wrapped around something enormous. Something beyond imagination. The city trembled. The jailer stood motionless. Holding. Containing. Enduring. Then came a sound I never wanted to hear. A snap. One chain broke. The noise echoed like a thunderclap. Then another chain shattered. And another. And another. The prison was failing. The jailer's light brightened desperately. More chains appeared. Thousands more.

“Your silver poisoning has seeped into your bones, and your wolf soul is dormant. You won’t live long. “How long is your sentence? Three years? Perfect. You’ll die not long after leaving Silver Prison. No need to dirty the cell with your corpse.” I reached out and touched my pale reflection in the mirror. Tears slid silently down my face. “Daniel, if I die, you’ll praise me for finally behaving, won’t you?”

“There was an assault. Clean. Fast. No security feeds survived, and over forty guards are confirmed dead. Reynolds is no longer in custody.” A sharp pain pulsed behind my eyes. “That prison was underground,” I muttered. “Built to contain the worst of the worst. There were only two ways in or out—and both were death traps.” Micah nodded grimly. “Whoever orchestrated this knew that. It was inside help. The escape was executed using one of the facility’s backup helicopters.” Of course it was. I turned my back to them, staring out the window, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. Reynolds was out.

The prisoner woke from his slumber, the sound of the prisoner's heavy breathing was clearly audible inside the cave, and if one could see what was happening outside, one could, excuse me, shit his pants. The prisoner slowly stood up, black goo ran over its massive body as more poured out from the mouth located in its abdomen. It heaved labouriously like a cat trying to throw out a furball, only this time it was a massive abomination. After a few minutes of heaving, a massive amount of black goo began to spray out of its mouth. Chunks of its decomposing innards could be seen flying with a large amount of black goo that was slowly painting the cylindrical prison walls black. Its eyes that were

Death Soldiers V Third Person’s POV Lyor and the soldiers that entered the dungeon hurriedly scoured the remaining prison cells that went deeper and darker as the pathway became wider. Lyor felt strange as soon as they saw the hanging prisoners on stakes that were just left there unattended, but his face quickly crumpled in a terrifying look as soon as a guess flashed in his mind. The prisoners that were left unattended outside their cells were merely tied by a rope on the stakes, and they could easily escape if they want to, especially since they look lightly injured from their appearance.

Everyone was holding it together for the sake of the mission, but I could see the cracks forming beneath the surface. The holding cells were just a few steps away from the main command center. Inside, there were several metal cages, each holding an infected individual—some barely conscious, others still struggling against their restraints. I could hear the occasional growl or screech, the sound of the infected reacting to the presence of outsiders.

I counted everyone I killed till it was one hundred and forty-nine of them were dead. Then I turned the lights back up. And it was a river of blood. I turned around, grabbed my phone, and dialed Damien's number, and when he answered. “It's done,” I said, and he immediately ended the call. I turned and made my way back to the door when I heard footsteps. I didn't bother turning around to know who it was. “You aren't going to kill me?” He asked. I turned to see Primo standing there, and when he saw me, his eyes widened.