Inspired by: ORANGE IS THE NEW BLACK.

You know it, babes.

Goddamn it Rey. You're SUCH a fuckup.

Her hands were trapped in sheer metallic casings, cuffs that were there to remind the woman of how unlucky she was. She didn't do it. She didn't…This wasn't fair! She couldn't help that she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She only followed the shadows of her own footsteps as she followed a line of other inmates, convicted of evils of possibly something worse than she could ever imagine.

There was no way she belonged here, Rey kept reminding herself. She looked up in the glaring ball of light that almost blinded her, then she looked back down. Out of her own thoughtless movements and a single spot-filled vision, she bumped into a heavy woman with a wide girth and rather pungent body odor.

"You bitch—you did that on purpose, didn't you?" She snapped back, pulling on the link of chains that connected the entire row of women.

"No—I—" She was stammering back at the sight of such an intimidating person. She was possibly three times her size—if she counted both the height and weight. "I didn't mean to, I just—" She found herself making excuses, stuttering even more as she was possibly seconds away from being shoved into the ground.

"Ladies—" The correctional officer interrupted, and as she spoke, her voice seemed very fitting for a woman packed with more height than any man she'd ever seen. She was impossibly tall. Maybe a foot and a half taller than Rey herself and had a very built frame. Maybe they hired her because she seemed so threatening, she thought. In contrast, her face was soft and pale, expressionless, her eyes light blue and her hair platinum blonde, decorating her face in light wavy wisps. Her black nametag read in white, "Phasma", across her tightly strewn uniform.

"I saw the girl in front of me do it! She tried to trip her!"

What a liar….! Rey, in shock, turned around to look at a woman who appeared slightly older than she was, her mouth agape. No one was tightlipped here whatsoever.

"No need to quarrel amongst each other." Officer Phasma noted, giving a good inspection over the troublemaker she seemed to have in her midst. "You're going to spend a lot of time together, so I suggest you two get along as soon as you can. Here, in the Mandalorian Correction Facility, we have no tolerance for physical altercations. If I catch you two bickering amongst each other again, you'll find yourselves in the Security Housing Unit. Am I clear?"

She had no idea what the Security—ehh whatever. It didn't sound like somewhere she'd want to be. Rey glanced over her shoulder at the woman she thought she could be friends with, and stared at her a little bit longer than she should (a form of intimidation perhaps) and began walking again with the group. A lone soldier already trapped between two enemies. This was going to be rough.

As she entered the bland building, she read any and all signs she could lay her eyes on. Of course, "Mandalorian Correction Facility" was well read as it was pasted against a brick wall that seemed to be crumbling as she trudged along, its large black letters were above the entrance. It was proof that she was in here for real. This was reality.

People can't get jumped here, right? Aren't there guards posted all around? Either way, she couldn't attract a lot of attention. That's how she'll be able to make it out of here alive. So when she walked in, a fresh blast of cool air hit her skin and a various number of hungry eyes found their way with hers. Both male and female. She was considered fresh meat. Being hidden so well by the large women surrounding her, she obviously shouldn't be as appetizing as her fellow inmates in line—but she was wrong.

Wait. Wasn't this supposed to be a female only detainment facility? Did she hear the judge right?

The view Rey was given was an obvious distinction between genders. One side and one side throughout the entire building, split between each other in a clear cut manner. She was positive that whoever was in charge put prison cells near a common walkway so that new jailbirds would be scared into being obedient. And she thought right when all she could hear cat-calls from women reaching out to her to get a taste of a new girl.

A lot of those hands seemed to avoid the rather large woman in front…so in a way, she tried to use her body as a barrier. As they stopped at a dead-end, they were forced to group up in into a single file line and had their cuffs removed. Phasma snapped cream latex gloves on each hand and crossed her arms, remembering the face of each and every woman in line with her today.

"Alright ladies. Take it all off."

The inmates, including Rey, were all confused and looked at each other, wondering who was going to do what. If anything.

"I said take it all off. We're conducting a body cavity search before you get your finger prints." Her head swept side to side, looking each and every one of them in the eye—looking for a sign of weakness she could capitalize on. "We check for weapons or anything deadly really—so that none of you knuckleheads harm me or anyone else on your way out of this prison. Just be lucky that I'm your officer today. Now. Take it all off before I send you to Snoke's office."

Snoke's office? Who was that? That name didn't sound too appealing.

Well, time to lose the shirt. The jeans so liked so much. Her converse. If she were allowed to cry, she would. But here, she couldn't show any signs of weakness. What was the sentence they gave her? Three years?

Oh god.

Why?

Here's a little drabble of something I don't even know exists yet. Am I taking someone's AU? Or what? If I am, I'm sorry. I just sincerely want to let you know that these ideas sprang from the top of my head as I was re-watching OITNB.

Should I continue? Let me know. :)