Atlas's vision was pitch black. The door he was sucked into seemed to consume him. Eventually, color started to pour in, along with an actual structure. A prison cell appeared in front of him—one he was not familiar with. Its ancient bars were made of a black, almost-but-not-quite metallic material. To his right was a simple cot, and to his left, a sink with no mirror.
He looked down at his usual slender and tall body, only for it to feel slightly unfamiliar. Now, he was a bit shorter, and his hair was pure white, as if bleached by the sun. His black shirt was now replaced with tattered rags that had an ungodly smell, and shoes that looked fit for a peasant.
"Stuck in a prison cell, what a great start," he muttered.
While getting familiar with his new body, a loud sound came from the cell block outside. It was a guard yelling out loud, a set of instructions. At first, it sounded like a foreign language, but a second later, it turned into normal English, as if being translated somehow.
"All prisoners, line up outside now!"
"Cell block D, move."
Atlas heard the prisoners around him start moving to their doors, so he followed suit. As he peered through, he got his first look at the prison. The thing that immediately caught his attention was the guards themselves. These were not normal guards. Each one wore slim, dark armor with a sword on their hip and a crossbow somewhere on their body. They all wore the same ferocious white mask with hollow eyes, making each guard look identical, varying only in body size.
Next, he looked at the prison itself. It was huge. Looking up, Atlas saw high ceilings stretching far above him, with many layers and guards standing on each, watching them.
"Cell block C, move," the familiar guard yelled again, and looking down, Atlas saw the letter "C" carved in front of his cell.
The next second, something unexplainable happened. The cell and its mighty, ancient bars disappeared. It didn't make a sound or dissolve—it simply stopped existing. Atlas had never seen something like it. With a puzzled look on his face, he stepped out onto the letter C, following the others.
Now, he finally saw the other prisoners. To his left was a scrawny, tiny guy, barely 5 feet tall. To his right, however, was the largest man Atlas had ever seen. He stood at least 8 feet tall, with huge, towering muscles. It was as if a titan had stepped into the world—it was seriously insane.
"What's this guy's calorie intake, and how does he maintain it here?" Atlas thought, his first real impression of the man.
Before he could think more, the big guy spoke.
"Hey, fish. After what you did, you're dead."
Atlas tried to turn and see who the big guy was talking to but couldn't find his target. Then, he realized the target was him. He was the one who was dead.
He didn't speak back and instead turned toward the scrawny guy since everyone else was facing that way. Scared, he heard the guard ring out again.
"Cell block C, roll out."
With that, they were off. Atlas shuffled forward at a reasonable pace, trying not to think of the abomination behind him.
As he looked at the scrawny guy, he saw him playing with his hands and muttering to himself.
"This bastard is crazy, isn't he?"
Atlas listened carefully but heard something about "the gods" and "blessed to be." After a while, he tuned it out, chalking it up to a madman rambling.
It was weird, though—the amount of guards around them seemed to grow as they kept walking, eventually reaching a set of stairs. They were on the second floor, so it wasn't too many, but he would've dreaded being on the top floor, if there were any prisoners that high up.
Atlas glanced back again and tried to peer past the behemoth, but he only saw one more person behind him, even though there were many cells around him.
"Well, not all prisons have to be full, I guess."
They reached a doorway that read "Chow Hall." Breakfast was clearly coming. The prison itself was so dark and dreary, with limited barred windows. He could smell the ocean air as if they were on the coast.
Damn, he missed the ocean, even though he'd only visited once. It was magical.
The chow hall wasn't really a hall; it was more of a room with a table in it. The table was wooden and circular, and on it were five plates full of what looked to be food.
Atlas followed the guy in front of him around the table and sat down, facing the entrance with his back to the wall. The behemoth sat down beside him, and surprisingly, the table didn't move an inch, as if the man's might couldn't phase it.
The food looked grotesque but edible, like badly made porridge. There were no spoons, so each prisoner around him simply picked up their wooden plate and drank it as if it were a cup of water.
Atlas wasn't one to miss calories, so he grabbed his plate, fully intending to follow suit.
His hands started to lift the plate, but they were instead sent flying downward, and the food went upwards. Atlas got covered in porridge. The behemoth started to laugh.
"You won't be able to eat with me here, fish. In fact, you won't be able to live, either."
Atlas guessed whatever the guy who had this body did before him was pretty bad. With that, the behemoth took his first swing.