CAMP PHELIGIAN
Spoiler! :
The light in his cell flickered above him. A tinny voice began to fill his ears, calling him to consciousness.
Congratulations, you've just arrived on the T-39 Pheligian Falcon, Pheligian Prison Camp in Quadrant Beta-Minor of the Kinella System. As of today, you are known as and will be called: Prisoner #078931. This will be your home for the next thirty years. Don't get comfortable.
Kazimir's eyes twitched as he curled up slowly into a sitting position on his cold, hard metal frame that would be his bed. As the tinny voice droned on in an irritatingly smug manner, despite it being an automated AI announcer, Kazimir let out a low groan. The metal bed did nothing to help his back. He got up slowly, hearing the cell doors slide open with a quiet whoosh. Outside the doors he was met with four things: two guards, and two pair of cuffs slapped on his wrists and on his ankles.
"Be gentle," Kazimir quipped, only to get knocked in the back of the head with a sharp blow and pushed forward. As they walked away, Kazimir could still hear the recording playing from his cell. Apparently, it wasn't necessary for him to hear the entirety of it.
...you'll make your way to the mess hall via escort... ensuring your prompt arrival...
He sighed.
...Getting to see the stars is a reward.
As he hobbled into the entryway to the mess hall, he felt the cuffs magnetically unlock, and with one swift motion, they floated off his hands and flew back to the guards, exiting the room just as the door closed behind him. He absent-mindedly rubbed his wrists and rolled up his bright yellow sleeves (all thanks to whomever thought it was a brilliant idea to give all of the prisoners brightly colored jumpsuits as uniform). The room was filled with metal tables and benches occupied by human and alien prisoners alike - though it seemed like he, as a human, was a minority. He briefly eyed the assembly-line-like conveyer belt at the end of the room, with rotating plates full of bland, questionable-looking food on them.
If he was going to make it in this place, he had to do something... something to make a name for himself.
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