The pathway to incarceration.
Walkways of grief. The floors had a coating which concealed the grey concrete. A vast stain which glistened in the dull light overhead. It was blood. Old blood. Human blood. Triskani blood. Doshan blood. The blood of Free Space mixed together to form a discoloured path that led into the heart of this place.
Screams. Chants. Jeers. All the noise of the living resonated from within. It echoed up the halls. A vast approaching tidal wave of sound.
Jaradin Tun followed the others in line ahead of him. Bound. Condemned. Those ahead and behind were from all worlds of Free Space. Some, most likely, deserved to be here. Others, may well have been innocent. Innocent like Jaradin.
He wasn't a criminal. He didn't deserve to be in a place like The Hilbricks. Hilbricks. It sounded ugly. The Hilbricks Institute, they called it. Most knew it as The Bricks. No getting out of there.
Years ago, someone he knew had been sent there. Ontia-Pren eG Cerian, a Mulu. Stopped for flying beyond a skyway. The ZPD found that he not only didn't own the speeder. And he was in possession of an irregular amount of a controlled substance. And, he had an unregistered weapon. The made an example of him. When asked where he went, the reply would be, The Bricks. That answer caused looks of pity. No more questions. No condolences. Just a shot of pity before changing the subject. Jaradin would often wonder what became of him, but life moves on quickly. Time spent wondering was wasted after all, so eventually he just forgot about him. He's dead now.
The shuffling came to a halt. The first person stopped, which rippled up the line.
"Doors!" A guard shouted.
That call was answered by a buzz that drowned out the noise of the other prisoners, for a moment. The churning of old steel followed. Which allowed the noise to come stronger than before.
What was once in the background was no too great to ignore. Thoughts unclear and as muddled as the inaudible wave of speech. The shuffling continued. There was solace found in the fact that he wasn't first in. But, it didn't make much difference as the entrance eventually became visible.
All cells were open. The building stretched upward. He didn't count them. He didn't want to look. The walkways above held prisoners, watching the fun. Sneering faces staring down. He didn't look. Something thrown caught someone a few rows ahead. They fell to the ground holding their face. He saw a flash of blood. The line continued. More shuffling.
He drew closer to the person writhing on the ground. A glance was met with one eye that begged for help. They were Human. Younger than him. Already maimed. Jaradin looked away quickly and carried on. There was nothing he could do. Even if he could, he wouldn't. If it happened beyond these walls he wouldn't.
People in line ahead were directed by the guard heading their journey. People veered off to find their place. The shuffling would continue, and they were brought further into the hall. Soon, it was his turn, and he followed the finger toward a cell. The bars were a frame of an open door. Beyond the door, he felt safer than being in the centre of this place.
Jaradin didn't look at the others in his cell. He stood to the side, with his back against the wall, and watched as the line continued on.
The person struck still lay on the floor, holding their face. Projectiles still being thrown at them. Each strike brought on cheers from beyond. Eventually a guard grabbed them by the back of their shirt, raised them to their feet and walked them forward following the line.
From here, he could see the walkways above. The second floor had cells like his. The third, made use of energy as well as steel. He couldn't see the very top, but assumed security tightened the further up the place went.
