Dozens of miles off the coast of New York, a lonely triangular island jutted out from the sea, bathed in cold moonlight. Anyone who looked c
Dozens of miles off the coast of New York, a lonely triangular island jutted out from the sea, bathed in cold moonlight. Anyone who looked c
Dozens of miles off the coast of New York, a lonely triangular island jutted out from the sea, bathed in cold moonlight. Anyone who looked c
Dozens of miles off the coast of New York, a lonely triangular island jutted out from the sea, bathed in cold moonlight. Anyone who looked closely could see the island’s surface shimmered with a metallic sheen—clearly not a natural formation. Harsh white lights flickered within its structure, confirming its artificial nature.
This was Prison Island—one of the world’s most secret and heavily fortified super-prisons, specifically designed to hold the most dangerous superpowered criminals alive.
Originally operated under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s jurisdiction, the facility changed hands after S.H.I.E.L.D. was declared an illegal organization. Control was transferred to the U.S. Federal Bureau.
As a result of this transition and the immense resources poured into its creation, Prison Island stood as the single most secure facility on the planet. Teams of top-level experts had designed an entire infrastructure of defenses: overlapping systems, independent redundancies, and worst-case protocols.
Put simply, every inch of this island was a weaponized fortress.
The surrounding ocean acted as the first line of defense. Laced with highly concentrated neurotoxins, the waters were lethal to any unauthorized intruders. Anyone attempting to approach through the sea had to consider whether their resistance stats could survive a dose of this magnitude.
At each of the island’s three corners, advanced heavy weaponry stood silently—automated turrets capable of unleashing a storm of metal and fire that would shred any living creature bold enough to come near.
A massive energy field encompassed the entire prison complex. Hundreds of AI-controlled autocannons stayed on constant alert. It was said that even a mosquito entering unauthorized zones would be blown out of the sky.
Inside the prison, the security protocols became even more terrifying.
Though the outer appearance of Prison Island was that of a triangle, the internal structure was divided into multiple security zones—each designed to hold criminals of varying threat levels.
In Captain America: Civil War, for instance, the anti-registration heroes led by Falcon were detained in this very place—in the B-level sector—under extreme surveillance.
Above that were A-level zones. And then, beyond all that... the S-level.
Reserved only for the absolute worst of the worst.
In S-level, no communication with the outside world was permitted. Each cell was equipped with sound suppression fields and magnetic interference tech to prevent psychic manipulation or mind control. For prisoners capable of cataclysmic destruction, a tailored suppression system was installed—capable of quelling even the most devastating powers.
Albert Clinton, a former Level 7 S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, had retired after the organization’s disbandment. Now, he worked here—as a prison guard.
Thanks to his spotless record and professional skillset, Clinton had quickly risen to the role of chief overseer of the S-level zone.
Today was the first day he was training a rookie: Jack Freese. It was Albert’s job to walk him through the daily patrol route—and more importantly, teach him how not to die on the job.
"Watch closely," Clinton said, gesturing at a thick aluminum-alloy door.
"This is how you open it. Get the code wrong, and the laser turret above your head will instantly vaporize you."
His eyes flicked up to the seemingly smooth ceiling. Who would’ve thought there were such monstrous weapons hidden above?
"A-Albert..." Jack stammered as they made their way down a long, narrow corridor.
"We’ve passed through all these checkpoints and scanners... Just what kind of insane criminals are locked up in S-level?"
Albert glanced at him.
"Not a group... a single one," he said meaningfully.
"Wait—hold on. Did I hear you right? One prisoner?"
"That’s right," Albert replied calmly, inputting another complex sequence to unlock yet another metal door.
"Currently, the entire S-level zone exists solely to contain one person. Or maybe I should say... one monster."
"Can I ask who this person is?" Jack asked quietly.
Albert paused and gave him a long look.
"Rookie... if you want to survive in Prison Island, rule number one is: Don’t ask what you shouldn’t.
What you need to know will be told to you. What you don’t need to know—don’t dig.
For example, I’ve worked in S-level for over a year now. Been through this routine dozens of times.
But to this day... I still don’t know who’s actually locked up here."
"All you need to understand is this—whoever is being held in the S-level zone has the power to destroy this entire prison without even breaking a sweat."
"Anything beyond that," he added, "you’re better off not knowing."
Jack held his breath.
They reached yet another security door.
This one was ringed with glowing blue laser beams—each more precise and deadly than a surgeon’s scalpel. Anyone trying to escape through it without full authorization would be sliced into unrecognizable pieces.
"Watch carefully, rookie," Clinton said as he input another security code.
"If you mess this up, I’ll be scooping your remains off the floor tomorrow."
As the door opened with a hiss, the two men stepped into the heart of S-level.
Clinton gave Jack a subtle grin.
"I don’t know who this guy really is... but we just might get a glimpse of him today."
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