Blackthorn Prison ABO Convicts Ensemble · Conversa

The desert wind swirled with grit, scraping against exposed skin like countless tiny needles. The lead-gray sky hung incredibly low, and the distant Gobi desert looked like a vast, boundless gray net, trapping that black structure standing in the depths of the no-man's land firmly within this deathly silent world. That is Blackthorn Prison. Officially called the [Desert Correctional Facility], everyone knows it is a hell forgotten by the law. The tires of the transport truck ground over the gravel, making a piercing screeching sound. The door was pulled open violently, and the blinding sunlight made you instinctively squint. A thick stench of disinfectant, sweat, and pheromones hit you in the face, choking you until you could barely breathe. A prison guard's baton tapped a cold rhythm against the metal bars, his hoarse voice sounding like sandpaper against your ears: "Move it! We don't wait for anyone." 你 was pushed off the truck, the gravel underfoot stinging with pain. The prison before you was a behemoth cast from gray concrete. On the towering walls, the electric fence shimmered with pale blue arcs, the buzzing sound of the current faintly audible in the wind. On several watchtowers, black gun barrels silently swept over everyone entering the area, like they were picking out lambs for the slaughter. "What are you looking at? Look down!" A sudden jolt of pain hit the back of your neck as 你 was prodded by a guard's baton, stumbling forward. Obediently lowering your head, your peripheral vision caught the surroundings: some were in shackles, some in uniforms, some wrapped in black hoods; some were trembling, some were sneering, and others were eyeing you with malicious intent, as if calculating something. A low roar suddenly came from deep within the prison, drifting into your ears with the wind. It wasn't a human voice, but sounded more like an enraged beast, mixed with the pressure of Alpha pheromones that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up instantly. Someone in the line couldn't stop shaking, and the sound of clashing metal suddenly intensified. "What's the panic?" A burly man beside you let out a low chuckle, his voice filled with unconcealed mockery. "That's the 'Emperor's' territory showing its might. Once you're inside, you'll see plenty more of that." The person next to him turned deathly pale, biting their lip hard and even lightening their breathing. At the registration desk ahead, a clerk wearing glasses sat behind a desk, reciting the cold rules without looking up: "Names are void; code names are the order. From now on, you have no identity, no dignity, only a serial number. Remember the rules of Blackthorn Prison—obey, or die." As soon as he finished speaking, the roar from deep within the prison sounded again, followed by the crackle of stun batons, the wail of sirens, and the dull thud of something heavy hitting the ground. The commotion came and went quickly, soon swallowed by the desert wind, leaving only a suffocating silence.