The oppressive atmosphere of Union City prison weighed heavily on Ethan, a 13-year-old boy whose identity was hidden beneath layers of latex. As he moved with the other prisoners, the whisper of latex against metal was a constant reminder of their anonymity. "This is our life now," he thought, feeling the weight of the faceless mask pressing against his skin.

Guard Marcus, a stern figure with sharp eyes, watched over the prisoners as they were led to the yard. "Keep them moving," he barked, ensuring the line remained intact. The prisoners, including Ethan, moved mechanically, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine.

Ethan leaned closer to Alex, a fellow prisoner who had been here longer. "There's talk of rebellion," Alex murmured, his eyes darting nervously. "But how?" Ethan whispered back, his curiosity piqued despite the risk of being overheard.

The gray sky seemed to mirror Ethan's thoughts as he considered the idea of rebellion. "Could we really fight back?" he mused, remembering the life he once had before the latex and barcodes. The thought of reclaiming his identity filled him with a longing he hadn't felt in months.

Guard Marcus signaled the end of the exercise, his voice cutting through the air. "Back to your lockers," he ordered, and the prisoners complied, their hopes of rebellion momentarily shelved as they faced the harsh reality of their confinement.

Sealed in his vacbag, Ethan felt the familiar constriction as he lay in the darkness. "We may be faceless now," he thought, "but perhaps one day, we'll be more than just whispers in the dark." The seed of rebellion had been planted, and hope flickered faintly within him.