Jim Ansone, known to most people as 'Dark' was sitting in his sell under the bright lights they constantly used to keep him at bay. It was tiring being in such high contact with it though today at least they didn't focus a beam onto him which was a relief. Dark sat up on his wooden bench that they called a bed and tried to look around but seeing as his cell was designed to play light tricks to make everything completely lit, so he wouldn't have anywhere to hide, he wasn't able to see into the hall. After listening for the door to close on the other end of the small cell filled hallway he whispered "Anyone sick of this place yet?" They could see him threw the glass that reflected the light onto him like they were looking threw a window. The guards had to have constant visibility to the prisoners as they walked by. He waited for an answer, hoping that at least one person will speak up. He had been sick of this place since day one. It was out of control, the prisoners were mostly animistic and followed their 'masters' like it was the only reason why they lived and the guards were extremely abusive. He had some street credit however. He was known for being the first one to escape and two of the people he had ran with got away safely, while he gave himself up to protect them. He didn't regret what he had done however, he did get a couple of people to safety and at least he knew they could start new lives and hopefully would keep their promises to come back everyday to pick them up at the spot he had held off the guards, the last place they had talked, though he doubted after all these years they would still be coming.