Ace's eyes lit up as they snatched the sporks from Rhea, but they kept their attention on the conversation at hand.

"I'm Ace!" They never introduced themself as Acacius. It was rather a tragic name---at least, it was according to the rest of their planet.

Ace decided rather quickly that the food before them was more important than this so-called 'Sy'. The Shah seemed harmless enough. What didn't, though, was how delectable that hamburger looked.

Extra company at meals. This was getting to be a theme, then. Marius squinted at Kazimir, trying to decide if he'd started being nicer to people in secret, since it was the only explanation he could think of for why people would be approaching them all of a sudden.

No, it probably wasn't that. Very mysterious.

"Didn't realize the burger was a crowd favorite," he joked, glancing around the table at everyone who seemed to be... almost enjoying their food, as strange as it was to him.

Rhea hummed in agreement, playfully poking at Ace's burger with her spork. "E-17 ensures that the burger is actually grilled like we'd find outside of the Falcon, so I'd say it's a given that people prefer it to the slop." She stopped poking at Ace's burger so she wouldn't be annoying (it was probably too late for that, she'd wager sadly) and sent the Shah a grin (as he seemed rather agreeable).

Sy could tell Kazimir was a ticking time bomb. He'd been short in all of his responses, and something was crawling under his skin. Marius sat beside him as the only anchor in the room, keeping the lightning bolt from exploding -- sending the man into a frenzy. It was something Sy wanted, but he didn't wish Kazimir to lose it so soon.

Ruminating was a dangerous thing, and Kazimir needed to save it.

Save it for the real enemy, not the room full of prisoners. There was no good in blowing a hole inside a sinking boat.

"Kazimir," Sy said, softer. "Would you mind, um, if I could ask you a question in private?"

Kazimir didn't respond at first, which told Sy he was dangerously too deep in his head. Sy looked at Marius with a flash of concern.

Marius kept his face free of the frown that wanted to form there. He didn't love being looked to as if he were Sy's accomplice in this when the suggestion made him a little wary. What did Sy possibly have to tell them?

"Kaz," he said. "Did you hear that? Sy asked if you could step away with him for a minute."

He didn't have to add the following, but it was there silently: I'll go with you as well if you want me there.

Kazimir flicked his eyes up to Marius with a vacant stare. "Okay," he said. His tone was so distant Marius knew he hadn't processed anything and was agreeing blindly-- it was too easy.

He was about to state it more clearly another time, actually offering him the chance to say no knowingly. But Sybyl was already getting to his feet, eager to pull them away from the table that quickly filled with newcomers. Whether they were flocking to Kazimir or Sybyl was unclear, but Marius recognized some faces from yesterday, most of which were from their cell block.

Kazimir got up like an automation. Sybyl drew away to a corner away from the dwindling food line, out of earshot, but still in view. Marius, delayed, slowly got to his feet, aware that he needed to follow and suddenly uncertain about doing so.

This didn't feel good.

Slapping on a smile, Marius gave the others a polite nod and said, "Talk to you later," even though he wasn't sure he'd get to. The smile fell when he turned around, hurriedly moving to join the other two and stand at Kazimir's side. His friend showed no reaction to his arrival-- a detail that only added to the uneasiness coiling in his stomach.

"So, I just think I should be more forthright with you," Sybyl said when the three of them stood together, facing the cafeteria. "You're a perceptive man," he waved to Marius, and his voice lowered. "And I'm sure you know, in no uncertain terms, that we're on a sinking ship."

Kazimir didn't flinch, nor respond. Sybyl looked to Marius.

Honestly, Marius didn't want to respond to that. It was never a comfortable thing to be so openly predicted in an environment like this, and even less so to confirm it. But it also served him nothing to deny it.

"Yes," Marius said carefully. "There's... signs."

"What you don't know," Sybyl said through a thin smile. "Is the reason behind the what, and that's what I need to tell you."

Marius glanced at Kazimir, but Kazimir didn't return the look. If there was anything that unnerved him more about this conversation, it was not being able to silently communicate with his friend.

"Why us?" he decided to ask.

Sybyl's smile grew a little wider. "You have something I need," he said, but his eyes fell on Kazimir.

Kazimir's gaze finally snapped into focus, but he remained silent. He took in a deep breath and lifted his chin.

Marius hid his frown. He had known this wasn't really for him, which meant Sy likely saw him as harmless-- and Kazimir as valuable. Sy could want any number of things from Kazimir: information, his strength, or his powers, even though Kazimir hadn't been able to use those since arriving here. The dimming cuff around his wrists had made sure of that.

And yet, somehow, Marius suspected that was relevant here.

"Here's the dilemma," Sybyl said. "They're automating the prison because they have to evacuate all of the staff members. Soon, the eternal storm will overtake the Pheligian, and no one's coming to get the prisoners out. And if we don't act soon, every opportunity to escape will be gone."

Marius blinked, searching for any sign of a bluff. When he didn't find any, he resisted the urge to glance around and do a full sweep for anyone who might be watching or listening to them-- only people who had something to hide did that. But this was very, very much something he wasn't supposed to know. Something no one in prison uniform was supposed to know.

How did Sy know?

"Soon," Marius echoed. "How soon?"

That word meant a variety of timescales, especially for anything related to space travel. For the sake of specifics, he had to ask. And yet, he didn't want to know.

"Two weeks," Sy said, smile unwavering. "But they'll begin shipping in our new 'orderlies'... in one."

Kazimir's hand clenched Sybyl's throat so fast that Sybly's last word cut with a squeak.

Marius stiffened a little, not seeing it coming. Part of him wondered if it was really necessary, but no one was running over to stop Kazimir, and Sy was being somewhat unhelpful... Well, maybe it was a little necessary.

"You need me," Kazimir said, his voice low, controlled, and steady. "Why?"

Sybyl did not move, but all three of them knew they had the eyes of every camera and security guard fixed on them. Poised, for the moment, things escalated.

"You're the only one in this cesspit with Amari blood," Sybyl whispered through lips that barely moved. "Why do you think they've been so vigilant to keep your powers at bay?"

Kazimir's grip tightened by a fraction, and Sybyl's eyes twitched.

"You need me to kill," Kazimir growled. "But I don't do that anymore."

Sybyl's smile broadened with hidden laughter. "The only thing I need you to kill," he whispered. "Is the electrical circuit that holds this ship together."

The two of them stared at one another in silent tension. When Kazimir's fingers clicked and pulled away, he sneered at Sy with disdain, then patted Marius on the back.

"Marius understands the circuits," Kazimir said.

Marius opened his mouth, about to argue, but found that he couldn't really disagree. That wasn't his problem with it, though. It was more about suddenly being signed up for... this. Whatever this was.

"Now, hold on," he said. "Maybe I do. So what?"

Sybyl regarded Marius with a newfound interest: like he was no longer Kazimir's baggage. Someone else might've been pleased to be recognized as someone of value. Marius only felt cold.

"If I had a way to deactivate Kazimir's dimmers," Sybyl said, barely audible. "Could you walk him through what circuits to fry if you were put in a control room?"

Marius stared at him, wondering that if he blinked or something, he'd suddenly find himself in a completely normal conversation. One that didn't casually discuss the mechanics of escaping somewhere impossible to leave behind.

"...Yes," he said eventually. "But those are two quite extreme hypotheticals."

"Well, we find ourselves in extreme circumstances," Sybyl said plainly. "Either you're looking to get out, or you want to die here. So, what is it?"

"How do we know we can trust you?" Marius asked instead, desperately trying to buy himself time to just... think. Just for a few seconds. "You could be trying to get us executed."

"I will give you until the next meal to consider my offer," Sybyl said. "It will be an exercise of trust: you could oust me to the guards. I could spin it back on you, or we could move forward in peace. But if you desire a test I will give you one."

Sybyl set his grin on Kazimir again. "I need muscle, beyond your own. I'm looking to recruit, and your reputation speaks for itself." A pause. "How long have you been itching to cause a scene?"

Kazimir's fists clenched at his side as a more honest answer than what came next. "I said I don't do that anymore."

"Oh, but you have more control of yourself, now, don't you?" Sybyl's condescenscion was laid thick.

When Kazimir's eyes darkened, Marius held his breath. The warning look he gave, however, was to Sy.

"I have a friendly relationship with this ship's psychologist," Sybyl said with a plastered smile. "He is my source, and the one who oversees every sentence to solitary."

"I don't care," Kazimir said, visibly not picking up on the subtext.

Even though Marius understood it, it wasn't of any comfort to him. He found himself frowning deeper.

"That's a gamble," he said, hating the stress that crept into his voice. "If you're honest about how long we have, but you can't pull the right strings after all, then that's the end of this."

He didn't even have the very fuzzy escape plan in mind when he said that, really, although he knew that was what it sounded like. It'd be the end of Kazimir.

"I wouldn't make a promise if I couldn't follow through," Sybyl said, dropping his smile.

Marius didn't know that, though. He didn't have that sort of unshakable confidence in Sy, not in the same way that he was deeply, deeply certain that Kazimir could not go back to solitary again. And so he hesitated, trapped between far more unknowns than he could solve for in the tense situation surrounding him.

"What I'm saying is," Sybyl said, looking to Kazimir. "Is I can keep you out of solitary. I can protect you."

Kazimir's eyes narrowed, and even he was visibly suspicious of Sybyl's motivations. But Marius knew he took the bait when his lip curled.

"Then you should be able to protect yourself, too," Kazimir said, before he threw his fist into Sybyl's face.

Sybyl went flying across the cafeteria floor, and even though something in Marius sparked with fear to see it, all he could do was take a step back and pray, pray, pray that Sy was right.

The Eclipse, ex- conquerer of planets, liberator of her peoples, mastermind of revolution, sat alone per usual. While she did only pick at her food, she ate a bit more than usual, not enough for anyone to notice but enough to give her mind and body the edge it needed. She would need it for what was to come.

Watching from across the cafeteria from underneath the table in which she chose to reside under, she surveyed the room, paying attention to everyone but particularly Sy.

He appeared to have been trying to make more allies but foolishly received violence instead. This was a unique game he was playing at, dancing the line between court jester and yet the closest advisor she had in her disgraced empresship. However, while it was nearly admirable, it was equal parts demeaning so better him play that role then herself.

With the way he had caught the punch, it had to have hurt and a slight flicker of irritation she felt towards the one who had punched him. It was actually mildly relieving to feel such a thing outside of the usual boredom. Either way though, at least she knew if worst came to worst, he could take a punch and she wouldn’t have to. With the punch though, she was hoping that meant their little interaction was over and if it wasn’t, that it would be before the end of meal time. After all, she did have a meeting to attend.

It was Smokey’s first time stepping foot in the lunchroom. A bunch of idiots swarmed around one table, some he recognized. There seemed to be quite a bit of buzz over there for whatever reason. Most inmates, though, made the smarter decision: keep to themselves. Whether it was strategy or instinct didn’t matter. It was still the right call.

Try as they might to look inconspicuous, their eyes betrayed them—and they knew it. Clever people recognized clever people. That’s why Smokey was going to make it especially clear: he didn’t want allies. And making an enemy out of him? Mistake.

Worrying about standing out was pointless. This was prison. Everyone stood out one way or another. What people really wanted wasn’t someone different—they wanted someone cooperative. Too bad.

One of the inmates tilted his head, bloodshot eyes following the slow-moving line of bodies—lined up perfectly like a herd of sheep. “Hey, move it already! I’m starvin’ here!”

Smokey stepped forward and approached the bubbly-looking robot behind the counter. He held out his tray curtly, ignoring the machine’s chipper, pre-recorded greeting. It was programmed to sound polite. Didn’t mean it felt anything.

The droid scooped up a heap of weird green goop, then rotated stiffly on its spine to face Smokey. The spoon hovered over his tray, tilted, and then—after an awkward five-second delay—the slop finally splattered onto his tray. It wobbled like liquid, then somehow regained its shape again—like a balloon inflated with disease.

“What the fuck is this?” Smokey asked, staring at the dome-headed buffoon they dared call artificial intelligence.

“My apologies if the food is not to your liking, Mr. Braggs,” the robot replied. Its mouth lit up with each syllable, tone robotic, stare empty. “But I do not prepare the food. I merely serve it.”

Smokey clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. Obviously.

“If you would like, I can—”

“No,” he cut in. “It’s whatever.”

As he walked away, he heard the droid chime behind him: “I hope you enjoy this wonderful meal!”

So obviously scripted it was pathetic. Is this really what mankind is being replaced with? The thought alone made him want to throw up. And the food… that was a whole other issue. He sat down alone and, against his better judgment, decided to at least give it a try. Everyone else was sitting and eating. How bad could it be?

Well, things can't possibly get any worse, he thought, scooping up a portion of the sludge. It’s not like I’m gonna drop dead or anythi—

The spoon was inches from his mouth when an inmate at the next table gagged once, then suddenly sprinted for the nearest trash can.

Smokey froze, spoon still hovering, mouth open, jaw slack. His eyes twitched in disbelief.

“Screw this place.”

Hellrock chewed his food, occasionally glancing up and around at the other inmates. His next glance was perfectly timed to see his cellmate go flying after getting punched. He smirked, amused. The fish deserved it.

Rhea watched, eyes wide, as Kazimir punched the Shah. "Oh." She said softly, her face going pale. If a fight broke loose, she wouldn't really have much defense past a plethora of sporks and the few changes the cuffs would allow her to make to herself. She wiped her face clean of any worry, knowing the assorted prisoners would see her worry and think she was weak. She held her spork in one hand and her burger in the other, eating while ready to stab anyone who tried to get in a fight with her or anyone at her table.

Ace snapped their attention to the commotion, still chewing their food. Their face lit up at the sight of a fight, and they quickly rose to their feet.

“Hell yeah!” they shouted. “Kill him, Kaz!”

He didn’t even take a bite, but he’d already had more than enough of this garbage to last a lifetime.

What a pain. That was all the juice left he could squeeze out of his brain . There was nothing else to say, not really.

Smokey felt cheated. This place wasn’t hell. Not the kind that four-eyed freak of a pilot had barked about with all his dramatic flair. That guy dripped mockery from his teeth like spit. No surprise he turned out to be full of shit.
There was no fire, no brimstone. It was limbo; a waiting room straight to everyone’s demise.

He felt that same sinking feeling in his gut as before, the kind that made his eyes go feral and his teeth grind. This wasn’t fair for anyone, especially not him. He couldn’t just spend the rest of his days rotting in here when there was so much more out there. It was only a matter of time before—

“Hell yeah, kill him, Kaz!”

He only made it five steps toward the trash can before the voice banged against his eardrums. Something sharp and stupid snapped in the air seconds after. That seemed to catch everyone’s attention, but Smokey was more impressed that the commotion caught his own attention. Voices rose fast, then more voices, rolling out like thunder altogether.

The first one hit his left ear hard, bounced around inside his skull, slid down the length of his arm. His hand twitched. The spoon dropped. Fell into the green goop with a wet splat and bounced like it had a spine.

He just had a feeling. It had been ages, but the unmistakable tremble in his body when the smell of blood greeted him never truly left him. He knew what was coming next. After all, there was only one thing that could unify these hardened hearts. He was already sick of the smell of this place, sick of the food, sick of the fucking mechanical noises. His fingers curled tighter around the tray so hard that the metal started to bend.

Enough was enough. He was tired of waiting to answer to the pull's strength. It weighed him down like gravity from all directions but one: forward.

He shoved through the crowd, elbow-first, cutting through the cluster of bodies. Someone muttered behind him, but nobody dared to stop a man stalking toward the danger with his face. Then he saw it.

Some ugly frog-faced bastard on the floor—jaw clenched, lips busted, chest sucking in air through his teeth, Sy—and standing over him—Kazimir, with his fists still tight, face red, shoulders tense. He had the kind of look that says, I’m not done yet.

Smokey stopped, just long enough to take it all in: the blood, the crowd, the heat still rolling off Kaz like smoke off an engine.

Yeah. This’ll do just fine. The tray in Smokey’s hand shifted. Not up. Not down. Just enough to catch an eye.

“Well, shit,” he muttered, voice low and dry. “And here I thought lunch was gonna be boring.”

Vultures were always drawn to cadavers, and sharks were always drawn to blood. Kazimir knew what he was looking at when he met the eyes of the crazed skeleton in front of him, starved for violence just like he was when he first came. He knew what it was like to live like an animal, to operate on instinct, to cave to every feeling and refuse self-control by choice.

He used to think he was wired that way: that his lot in life was to be chaos, and embrace it.

But one good thing came out of isolation, and that was restraint.

He held his fists at his sides, at the ready, and only regarded Sy with the side of his vision. The whelp had stars spinning around his head, and that was his reward for thinking he could use Kazimir like a tool, as if he were the first.

Kazimir intended to agree to the deal, but unlike Marcus, he didn't care about the consequences because if they were really in a death trap with no way out, then it wouldn't matter if he got put away in solitary.

He didn't think Sy's plan was going to work, but something inside of him snapped when Sy said: "Either you're looking to get out, or you want to die here."

He hadn't been looking for a way out, but he knew the latter wasn't true.

If he was going to die either way, he would go out with a fight. Doomed to die, and doomed to feel it, Kazimir would let Sy prove himself with this: keep me out of solitary, or lose the tool you need.

So, in truth, he wasn't going to start a fight to fulfill Sy's test. This?

This was out of spite. In a cage where he had no control over anything, he at least had control over this: he would go down on his terms, and his only regret would be how it'd affect Marcus. That was where Kazimir wanted Sy to be right.

Kazimir glowered down at the wet rat at his feet.

He didn't remember the man's name.

"Are you going to get in my way?" he challenged.

"Your way?" Smokey looked up at the guards as they started zigzagging down the stairwell. "Looks to me like we're already in deep shit. So you ain't goin' nowhere, pal!"

"Hold it, Braggs!" one of them shouted.

Two guards rushed him. Smokey grabbed both by their uniforms and smashed their heads together with a sickening crunch. The impact warped their helmets (assuming they wear some kind of protection) as a deep maroon splotch splattered against their visors, sticking between the cracks of the supposedly bulletproof glass.

Thrusting a guard headfirst, Smokey speared the gap between himself and his opponent. He wound his arm back, and spun around.launching the second like a human boomerang

While Kazimar was distracted with the two hurling blocks of meat, Smokey threw himself into the fray. The second Kazimar tossed the corpses aside, Smokey's foot thrusted downward, driving straight into his skull.