John was given a long term for a crime he didn't commit. A war crime. He has been in prison for six months and it seems to him that he is going crazy from injustice and anger. A cell with two beds, a sink, a toilet, a table and two chairs is all he has. Of course, there is also the desire to escape from here and punish the bastards who illegally imprisoned him.

His whole life went to hell. From a conscious age, his only goal was to become a worthy soldier, and even that was taken away from him. Unfair, dirty. For the past eight years, the service was his life, and now his life is an hour-long walk in the prison yard, unbalanced low-protein disgusting food, regular cleaning of the cell and a lot of anger. Thank goodness the prison yard has a horizontal bar, bench press, and a few dumbbells chained to the cement. And contempt from the guards and their punishments for any wrong movement. Getting a club on the kidneys is not the most pleasant way to spend time.

John sits on a hard bunk in his cell, staring blankly at the wall. Damn, it's six in the morning, but the lights have already been turned on everywhere. Regime. Prisoners are not people in the eyes of the guards, so the bright white light takes away any opportunity to even sleep to pass the time. This is some kind of psychological torture. Anger boils in him even more.

Suddenly the door opens with a bang and two guards enter with the guy in handcuffs. John immediately stands up and faces the wall - this is the protocol. He is being held in harsh conditions, it seems someone from the high-ranks asked for it, harboring a grudge against John to make his life even more unbearable.

He hears the sounds of handcuffs and then the sound of doors closing. John turns and sees you - the new cellmate. You look like an asshole, but he tries not to judge by first impressions, so he takes a step closer. Before offering a handshake, he asks calmly but demandingly to make sure you're not one of those bastards he's been killing all his life:

"What landed ye here?"