The light to Block C's cells flickered on. Each one of the rooms in which D-Class slept where identical. A single steel door, a bed, a carpet-tiled floor, a toilet, sink, and a computer. Yes- a computer. They weren't aloud to upload, post, or create anything, but they could watch movies and play games. Most of the D-Class had been where prisoners in the public incarceration system; making this room feel like a 5-star hotel.  The lights flickered on, and they had a half an hour before breakfast and a moment to themselves.

Their moment of reflection came to end, when dozens of security guards left their own places to organize and move the D-Class to the canteen, where they would be eating breakfast. A loud buzzing was heard, signifying the beginning the day. For many of the D-Class prisoners, this was there first day here. Day one of thirty.

Security at the site all wore the same uniform. Black kevlar and pads over a white jumpsuit with a face-obscuring balaclava, goggles and helmet combination. It was rare to see the security staff without their helmets.


[hider=D-90715, "Jeremy Hammond"]

A gruff voice came muffled through Jeremy's door. "D-90715, breakfast time. Get movin'," the masked man said as the steel door slid open. He would guide Jeremy to the canteen along with several other of his prisonmates.

[/hider]


[hider=D-60100, "Donald Bastion"]

Donald's moment of self reflection was interrupted as the buzzer went off, and an authoritative, masked woman commanded him to follow her and the rest of the prisoners and guards in a line to the canteen. The atmosphere was very gloomy as they walked- no one said a word to Donald or anyone else.

[/hider]


[hider=D-12593, Claudette André]

Claudette's reprieve came to an end when a tall, masked man strongly suggested she follow him in a line to move to the canteen. It was a very persuasive suggestion. No guard ever called an inmate by their name- it was always the dehumanizing serial number stamped in bold black letters on the back of their orange jumpsuits.

[/hider]


[hider=D-77732, Robert Anderson]

"D-77732," a young sounding woman called out to Robert as the door to his cell was opened, "It's time to eat. Follow me." She began to walk, collecting more innmates as the short walk went on.

[/hider]

The canteen food was much better than anything they might have had in previous incarceration facilities. The food was served via a machine that handed out trays of powdered eggs, bacon, toast, and a carton of orange juice. Very simple tastes, but whatever they did to it gave it an adequate flavor that made it pleasant to eat.

The loudest person in the room was D-98970, a bald, bulky white man with a stubble getting into an engaging argument with a handsome chinese man, amused but calmy explaining the matter at and. Meanwhile, D-22141, a woman with brown skin and long dark hair tied into a ponytail, tried to keep from laughing as D-98970 loudly protested that indeed, undercover police officers do have to tell you that their undercover, because cops always have to tell the truth.

"Ryan, I'm telling you," the asian man responded with a laugh in his voice. "That's fake. I wouldn't be surprised if that's something the police made up to give their informants more credibility."

"No no no, Zhang, listen, I know- look, look-" He saw the new arrivals, making eye contact with Jeremy. "You, scrawny, get over here. Tell Zhang here that cops aren't allowed to lie. Tell him. You know it's true, right?" He had a serious urgency about him as if he only had a limited amount of time to convince people he was right.