While unfortunately Eclipse hadn't been able to speak with the girl who laid as corner piece to the intricate puzzle that was her eventual escape, she had been able to get her attention during mealtime, subtly and carefully. If she wanted to use the girl to her advantage, being subtle as not to seem like a threat was key.

Her mind quietly spiraled around these ideas, obsessing over them as she began to walk back to her cell. She stayed a couple paces ahead of the guards that escorted her, it made her feel powerful as she led the way as she wasn't being directed. Instead she led and they were forced to follow.

However, as she led her way to her cell and was about to make the turn down her usual corridor, the guards quickened their pace. One grabbed her by the arm firmly but somewhat gently, he being one of the ones Eclipse had mildly influenced in her favor and gained the trust of (foolish of him).

The other shook his head with a frown and grunted, "Not that way. You're going to a new cell this time because of your last squabble."

Eclipse smirked at the thought, remembering it clearly. "Please, I hardly did anything wrong. I was simply using my words."

The guard who spoke before scowled. "For you your words are as dangerous as a loaded gun. Don't even think about trying anything on me. Let's go. Straight this time, then left. Cell 563."

Eclipse hummed softly and echoed, "hm, cell 563," as if making a mental note. She then proceeded to make her way obediantly down the hall as instructed.

Soon enough, cell 563 came into view, the forcefield that kept prisoners in still closed. As her guards were a couple steps behind again she waited patiently until they were near her again and opened the forcefield before she went in on her own. Not another word was said by the guards as the forcefield crackled into appearance behind her again. Maybe this time, she would get a cell alone. However, that possibility seemed slim as she noticed the second set of meager bedding. It seemed as if they would never give her a moment to silently plot by herself and always ensured there was someone nearby to prove as a distraction. How annoying.

Just as Eclipse had expected, it wasn't long before a pair of guards came into view, pushing along a stumbling scrawny grey Kavi down the hall. They were shoved into the cell along with Eclipse, and they stood there, staring at the solidified forcefield, dumbfounded.

Slowly, they grey Kavi turned, eyes darting around the room nervously. They raised a hand in greeting. "Uh, hey there."

Eclipse watched them like a hawk as soon as they entered until they turned to acknowledge her in which she relaxed. She had seen them during mealtime and they seemed of no threat, certainly not to her. "Hello."

Ace shifted uncomfortably, clasping their hands behind their back as they stepped further into the cell. They expertly avoided eye-contact with Eclipse. "Wow! Nice place you got here."

A soft smile appeared on Eclipse's lips as she watched them further. They were young but she couldn't say inexperienced. Something had to have landed them here. Either they were putting up a convincingly good facade or her work from here on out would be so very easy. Maybe she could even subtly encourage them into becoming her apprentice of sorts. That would certainly be a useful tactic for more reasons then one.

"Thank you, my cell used to be nicer but this one just so happens to be brand new." Eclipse replied softly. She didn't want to scare the poor kavi on their first day. She wanted quite the opposite in fact. She wanted them to trust her.

"Ah," Ace nodded, still gazing around the room. Their eyes eventually landed on Eclipse, but they hovered awkwardly near the empty bed. "So, who are you again?"

Eclipse sat in a rather open diplomatic manner and smiled softly once more, trying to convey the impression of herself being at utmost ease and comfort. "Most call me Eclipse but you are welcome to call me by my true name, Moirai. Only a few do here, think of it as an offering of my friendship."

Ace stared at Eclipse for a moment, seeming to consider her offer. Then they smiled brightly with a nod. "Alright. Moirai it is! I'm Ace, by the way."

Eclipse settled into a more comfortable position on her cot, smiling back gently. "A pleasure to meet you, Ace. I think our time here together will be well spent. What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?"

Ace gave Eclipse a puzzled look before flopping down on their own cot. "Oh, you know." They placed their hands behind their head and crossed their legs. "Just about what everyone else does. You?"

"Well, I should hope that what everyone else does does not include particular habits of my past cellmate but so far I have my faith in you." Eclipse hummed softly. While the sentence seemed as an encouragement, really it was a vague warning to assert her authority over the space. She most certainly didn't want him getting comfortable to the point of sloppiness. "I quite enjoy reading when I am allowed to keep a book with me. However, they were taken from me when I was moved cells."

"Oh, that's too bad." Ace rolled over to look at Eclipse. "Do the guards just...I dunno. Take things for fun? Or did you have to do something to get them taken?"

"Oh, I simply couldn't move them from my old cell. They had already made the change before I could retrieve them after mealtime." Eclipse sighed. "I will simply have to fetch them again when I find the opportunity to do so."

"Hm, makes sense." Ace jumped up from the bed, inspecting the corners of the room. "What else is there to do in here? Besides read and sit in a cell, I mean."

"Well, there is always sleeping, or meditating." Eclipse mentioned, hoping to indirectly get the point across that she preferred quiet activities.

"Oh, how boring," Ace deadpanned. They moved closer to the forcefield, peering at it curiously. Ace reached out a hand, grazing their fingers along the surface. "I don't think I have the patience for meditation."

"Well, you certainly wouldn't know until you try. Often times the sanctuary of one's own mind is the only reliable thing here." Eclipse mused. So, sharing a cell with them would be more trying then she had previously assumed. Those in charge apparently knew what they were doing in order to limit her further and attack her own mental sanctuary with distraction. It was cunning, but she would find some way to use it against them. She always did.

"Yeah, but I think meditating is the way to ruin my mental sanctuary. Have you ever tried sitting still and doing nothing for more than two minutes? One of the worst things I've ever done," Ace tsked solemnly.

Despite the distraction of her cellmate from her own plotting, she did find them rather amusing. "Oh I have done so for much longer before."

Ace made a face. "Well, I hope you uh...had fun with that."

Yet still amused but deciding to change the topic, Eclipse hummed. "This is your first time here, is it not?"

"Is it that obvious?" Ace grinned sheepishly.

"On no, not really." Eclipse smoothly lied. "I simply have a habit of noting things about people to get to know them better."

Ace walked back to their bed, peeking underneath. "So what else have you noticed about me?"

"Many things," Eclipse said softly, cryptically, before listing a couple, "You are both of the kavi people and quite young to be in such a place as this."

Ace took a seat on their bed, seeming to finally settle in one spot. "Yeah, that's right."

Pleased by their settling, Eclipse nodded a bit. "So, despite how cliche it may be, I must inquire. What was it that brought you here?"

Ace tilted their head, letting their feet kick beneath them. "Isn't that the one thing you're not supposed to ask people when they're in prison?" they wondered aloud. They shook their head and offered an easy smile. "I killed someone."

Eclipse wasn't even phased by that answer, in fact, it seemed a rather minor crime. "Oh? Only one? How did you do it?" She asked curiously as if killing someone were common gossip.

Ace gestured vaguely in the air with a shrug. "Oh, you know. With some help."

"That's fine if you don't want to share details. I know thinking back to times such as those can be unpleasant." Eclipse murmured sypathetically.

Ace just smiled. "So how much are you willing to share about the crimes that brought you here?"

A tad bit surprised that her bait had not worked to entice them to tell her more, Eclipse simply smiled. "I'm sure you will hear about it soon enough from your other friends. It's not as if it's a well guarded secret."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to hear it from you, then? Since it's not some big scary secret?"

"That depends on who you would believe more." Eclipse mused.

Ace seemed to consider it. "Why wouldn't I beleive you?"

"Because my crimes are much larger than simply murder." Eclipse told them. "You may think I am exagerating. Many think I do when I first tell them."

"I'd still rather hear it from you than from someone else."

Eclipse smiled with a hint of cunning and pride. "If you insist. I was the one who planned out the domination of a planet and even a solar system would fall next should the planet have."

Ace nodded as if they'd heard a story like this before. "Sounds about right for someone in intergalactic prison."

Eclipse simply smiled and nodded. "It certainly isn't much of a surprise as to why I'm here."

"So, did you take over the planet? Or did you just plan it?" Ace asked for clarification.

"A bit of both, but I mainly planned it. I let others carry out the details and see that they were done." Eclipse informed.

Ace smiled brightly. "Well, I'm glad you succeded in world-domination. Must look good on a resume."

She smirked a little. "There would have been no resume needed had it actually been carried through properly. I would have been above all else."

Ace let out a small laugh. "I suppose you're right."

Eclipse smiled and nodded. "I know-"

She was about to say more but paused as a couple guards passed with another prisoner, one who looked like he had been on the losing side of a fight.

"Well, I think I can tell who got Hell." She commented with a slight chuckle. "Poor soul." However, she wasn't sorry in the slightest.

Dark swirls obscured Smokey's vision. He didn't just see them---he could feel them, heavy like leeching clouds clinging to him and sucking the blood from his aching head. He felt like he weighed a million tons and his skull was being bloated, and when his neck couldn't handle the pressure, he nearly slipped forward and bashed his head off his own crotch.

The blood stopped rushing into his head when there was enough for his brain to finally function properly, but not without one last wave of pain as the darkness crawled away into the corners of his eyes.

It was still dark after the fact, save for a constant blinking red light from above. He brought his neck up with a lazy loll to get a better look at the source, though he already figured it was a camera staring back at him, and he was obviously right.

"Damn crath," he hissed. The Warden's ugly, cracked face was freshly ingrained in his mind. It would take more than just a beating to make Smokey forget. "Looks like the flying pigs finally got me," Smokey scoffed as he slumped against the wall with one knee up. He let his elbow rest on top of it idly, and his hand dangled in an awkward position, like he was pinching something between his finger and his thumb. Must've been muscle memory; he was having withdrawals still.

Smokey scanned his dank surroundings absentmindedly, with nothing better to do, and not much on his mind. He knew prisons gave harsh—sometimes even cruel treatment, but this didn't even look like a cell. It was totally empty aside from the camera—empty and dark... and gray. The walls and floor didn't look like any regular pieces of scrap metal bolted or welded together. It was as if he was inside of some kind of three-dimensional cube with its inside perfectly carved out; it looked totally new, as clear as still water.

"Tch, how cozy," he scowled hard---hard enough that his face slanted. Half of his mouth could barely open when he spoke. Then his eyes roamed toward what he presumed was the "cell door." He wasn't much of a tech guy, unless it came to small aircrafts. The chances of coming across anything even slightly more significant than rusty scrap metals was rare where he came from, and he couldn't help but harbor some begrudging gratitude for the drought that plagued his home planet. He'd visit sometime if he weren't locked up, not that it mattered. His home was long gone.

Just to be sure, he picked himself up off of the floor and walked to the front of the cell, then promptly placed his hand on the forcefield wall. It sent a jolt of, well, basically nothing to his arms. Just numbness, an unfeeling buzz, for lack of a better word. He imagined that for the average human it would've hurt like hell, but Smokey was anything but; he was numb to many things already.

“Thought so,” he sighed, letting his backward stumble pull him back onto the floor with a dull thud.

With another sigh, Smokey couldn't help but smile bitterly. Yet another idea for him to scoff at: his own fate. He didn't know whether to feel angry or depressed. That was probably the whole point of building this place. "And in the god damn eye of a storm too," he added aloud, talking to the ceiling overhead.

He cast anothet sharp glare at the camera on his way down to the forcefield in front of him. Slowly, Smokey's eyelids drifted together. Perhaps it would be best to get some shut eye. He'd need it if he wanted to survive. After all, since the beginning, his life was the thing he valued most...

... And he was going to survive.

Smokey and Cessa collab post!

Smokey's thoughts vanished. He was feeling heavy again, like the clump of dross he was. He welcomed the anchoring sensation this time---it almost seemed too easy, but for the first time, his entire world went dark, and everything was quiet.

Until it wasn't...

A blaring alarm whirred. It howled through the halls, and yet it sounded so close, like a onmnipresent ghost of what once was, now crying out toward everywhere all at once, begging to be silenced. It was dull, monotone, but unapologetically scratchy, as if it had been forced to mutter the same song over and over, and could only scream for help. Smokey's eyes darted open. It looked like his beauty sleep would have to wait.

"Pretty sure that Smokey guy's being kept in one of the newer ones."

Smokey's ears twitched; "one of the newer ones." He heard the words loud and clear, even underneath the alarm's gut-wrenching wails. So this cell is just a placeholder, eh?

Being reassigned meant being stuck with some other weirdo. The rooms were already cramped on their own. By now, Smokey was likely infamous throughout every block. Popularity in prison could go either way, but considering he decapitated one of the Warden's goons with his bare hands, it was more than plausible that some prisoners would be looking for a fight. The prison guards on the other hand were bound to treat him like shit, albeit in a cautious manner.

There would definitely be a lot of rough treatment---considering he not only decapitated a guard's head, but a brazen anarchist responsible for a lot of commotion around the galaxy. At least, thats how the media pinned it. He only ever directly opposed the authority---their mindless subjects were the least of his concern, but that one particular incident was a fluke, something he didn't know he was capable of doing. He didn't regret it, though.

And speaking of the devil, at least a dozen guards stormed the halls, each step guided by a clear objective. The voice from earlier belonged to the guard in front, with a taser and handcuffs jangling off of his utility belt, just in case.

"We're here; Block J, cell 41995" he said.

Meanwhile the forcefield to Smokey's cell quivered and pulsed, as if something disturbed its defenses, and then it zapped into thin air like a flash of lightning. "On your feet, Foo. Move it," the guards stopped as the one leading the charge spoke.

There was a beat of silence before Smokey replied, debating whether or not he should've just skewered the poor bastards. Who the hell was Foo anyway? It sounded pretty badass, but Smokey wasn't the type of guy to let people's buttery words melt him up; they usually slid right off. He demanded real respect, not meaningless rubbish like formalities or cute little remarks.

"You talkin' to me---" one of the guards rushed inside and hoisted Smokey to his feet with an arm wrapped under his shoulder. Smokey yelped im protest and dug his toes into the floor, ready to send another guard's head flying off of their body with a swift elbow to the nose, but was apprehended when the guard clicked one of the damn mittens over his forearms again; It clenched around them like a vice. "What? Am I in trouble already?" Smokey grumbled as he was shoved out of his cell and down the hall; the other guards followed.

How long have I been here? A huff escaped the chapped lips that belonged to the piratess. The now captured piratess, much to her dismay. There were two things that Cessa hated most, one being controlled, and the second was being bored.

Cessa had been sitting in this same spot for hours now, plopped down lazily on the floor as she leaned back against the wall. It was still setting in, the reality of this all. But then again, she had been in a prison cell many a-time before. Just not a fancy one like this that screamed rich tax payer money.

She just wished that the tax payer money would have the funds to provide some entertainment in her prison cell. So far she had counted the tiles, 248 small tiles on the floor, 345 bigger tiles on the walls and ceiling. Though even those numbers couldn't be trusted since Cessa loathed, hated and despised math. She also kept losing track, but she decided to skip past that fact.

They could've at least gave me a mirror, I bet I'm totally rocking this jumpsuit.. Cessa's brain mused as she picked at a lose string on her sleeve's collar. Suddenly, the piratess's sharp senses picked up on the sounds of stomping footsteps. Around 12? No, 13. Finally, something to torment. She thought with a tiny outward snicker. Cessa had a particular talent and love for getting under other's skin.

She heaved out a sigh, pushing against her knees to get up, wobbling and nearly falling when discovering that one foot had fallen asleep. "Of course." She huffed out, stomping her foot quite aggressively on the ground to wake it up. Once she decided that it was mostly awake, she half hobbled half sauntered over to the force field, door thingamajig, peering through it to see why the guards were coming by.

"Let go of me, you punk-ass!" A voice carried down from the hall to her cell, albeit muffled and static. Beyond the translucent wall of blue, the guards walked into view, then abruptly stopped in front of the cell. A man with the same old jumpsuit, drenched-looking noodles of hair over his face, and a scowl stood in front, his hands cuffed together.

Cessa blinked at him, confused for a split second before realizing he was probably her cellmate. Her brows furrowed together and her lips curled in distaste, looking him up and down. He looks like he was thrown in the garbage disposal...and I'm going to be stuck with him...First impressions clearly weren't stellar. His eyes narrowed at Cessa, then he looked back at the guards reluctantly. When the forcefield was severed with a sharp zap, Smokey turned and looked at the piratess once more.

"Who the hell is this chick?" He lifted his chin and cocked his head to one side with something akin to a sneer, but it didn't quite reach his baggy eyes. Cessa made a small tch noise, raising her eyes in a returning challenge. When you've been around as much testosterone as she had with her pirate crew, any insult vocalized or not had no effect.

Several comebacks swiftly shuffled through her mind before she quickly responded, tilting her head back at him. "And who the hell is this dirty vagrant with overcooked ramen for hair?" She sniped, her words accompanied with an overly sweet smile that translated as condescending in a high school mean girl kind of way. "If this is what's being served for lunch here, I think I'll pass."

Smokey was going to bite back, but the guard interrupted his genius brainstorming process, kindly relieving him from the strain of these so-called handcuffs that served better as a torture device. There it was: that familiar whirring sound that angered him so; the sound of mechanics he couldn't be bothered to learn on his own. He almost forgot about the handcuffs underneath---the ones that could actually pass as handcuffs in most prisons. His body was useless, but finding another way to rid himself of his shackles was just as easy done as it could be said. Then again, it was a rather reckless move. If the guards found out, they'd probably put the kitty mits back on.

The guard stepped back, and the forcefield closed behind Smokey. "You two behave," the man ordered with one last threatening glance. Smokey simply smiled, his eyes lurking in the guards direction over his shoulder as they stormed away in their typical poised fashion. No matter where the man looked, his eyes always had an ominous glow to them. It was faint, but present nonetheless.

"What a real sweetheart, that guy" he muttered, still hovering over his shoulder as he stalked closer to the girl opposite of him. "A shame I didn't get the chance to kiss him on the cheek before he left." Cessa let out a tiny snort from this, giving him a tiny applaud in her mind as she watched him stride closer.

Smokey stopped abruptly, panning his head slowly. "As for you..." his smile broadened sinisterly. He was obviously ready to start something.

"What's wrong? Never been this close to a girl before?" She sneered, stepping closer in turn, lifting her chin to confidently meet his eyes, her own glimmering with a defiant sparkle---Like obnoxiously flakey glitter. Its pretty, but ruins everything. Very aggressive, ready to fight glitter.

Smokey's devilish grin back pedaled into a dismissive smirk once he realized intimidation games wouldn't work one this one, but that wasn't going to stop him from asserting himself.

"Relax shrimp," he clasped the piratess's shoulder slightly firmer than necessary and shoved past her, moving toward the bunk bed. "No one here is lookin' to hook up with you," he muttered harshly. It was better to make it known before she threw another insult like that at him.

"Besides, I doubt I could handle such a fiery personality anyways," he raised his eyes until they almost popped out of their sockets, as he turned around, exaggerating his point with prickly hand gestures. Then his eyes rolled to the side as he leaned against the wall. "Just make sure you know who you're dealin' with. I don't take crap from nobody, especially not little brats."

Cessa snorted softly, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg. "At least you got one thing right, crossbones." She flicked her eyes up and down him, trying to pinpoint how he fights based off of body language. Dominant hands were primarily used for fighting, and posture was a key giveaway for which part of them to go for when trying to knock them off balance.

She looked back at the force field wall, listening for any other additional footsteps. "You don't know who you're dealing with either, you know. But so far I think its been established that neither of us are scared of the other."

For less than a heartbeat, Smokey's silhouette wavered side to side. His facial expressions didn't change much, but it was obvious he was taunting her with the possibility of a fight regardless of her words.

A gust of wind slid from underneath his feet and brushed past Cessa's. "How boring," Smokey hummed, "but I can't say I disagree with that. I'll kick your ass some other time if I feel like it."

He lifted his head slightly and dragged his tired eyes across his new cell. His eyes were like magnets, itching to pull anything toward them. Man, this is really bugging me, he frowned to himself, but didn't vent his complaints---not out loud, in front of some obnoxious stranger, but he'd cave in sooner or later.


Whatever he was struggling to hold back only became more apparent when he realized he couldn't get anywhere just by sifting over his surroundings. So he made a break toward the bunk beds first, before checking the drawers and things of that nature. They were only a few feet away from where he stood against the wall, but he treated the short-lived journey as if the two steps he had taken were each worth five hundred miles. He lifted the stiff mattress of the top bunk and began feeling underneath.

Cessa snorted a bit louder than polite after he mentioned kicking her ass, finding it personally very amusing. She then glanced at him, a quizzical expression crossing her face when she saw him feeling the mattress. "What the hell are you doing?" She demanded, finding him odder by the minute.

And her favorite thing about odd people was that they always had secrets.

"Looking for a smoke, what else?" Smokey's voice barely registered under all the swiping and patting. He looked like a zombie swatting away monsters under his bed. "This your first time getting locked up or somethin'?"

Smokey kept pursuing his futile endeavor. At this point, he was just doing it absentmindedly so he didn't have to face Cessa whenever he spoke. "This cell looks older than the one I was in, which means a couple of chumps must've been messin' around in here before us---in other words, there's bound to be some tree hidden under here somewhere."

Cessa's brows raised in slight surprise, her lips curving into a calculating smile. Interesting. Odder by the minute sure was right. "So, you're into that stuff?" She asked casually, watching him carefully with a sinister sort of interest. After all, if he really was addicted to this stuff, it could be used against him.

Several ways of usage flashed through her mind before she realized she actually would have to get the substance first, which slowed her roll. One step at a time. Lets get more information before getting ahead of ourselves. We have plenty of time.

Kazimir wasn't going to do anything stupid. He wasn't.

He was just thinking about it.

Brooding at the edge of the recreation room, Kazimir had claimed a bench. While Marius spotted him and he bench-pressed the weights he'd piled on, he kept a watch on the gaggle of grey ones in the corner of his eyes. More particularly, he kept a watch on them watching Ace.

Though he wasn't saying anything, he was more than ready to jump up and chase the fools away if they had the audacity to try anything.

Hovering by the bench press, Marius followed Kazimir's gaze. His friend's expression was familiarly and silently hostile, and he could've guessed who he was watching before he even saw the group of Kavi. That tracked. Kazimir hadn't been kidding when he'd offered to 'handle' them.

"Don't get too distracted," he murmured. Kazimir was unlikely to drop the weights, but if he did have an accident, Marius was not going to be of much helpfulness and they both knew it.

In a far corner of the room, Ace sat at a circular table with various other inmates. They had a stack of cards splayed out in their hands, brows furrowed as they waited for the other players to lay their cards. When the person before Ace laid a card, Ace slammed their cards on the table and rose out of their seat.

"Are you kidding me?" they cried out. "There's no way all of you had a draw two!"

The rest of the group seemed unbothered by Ace's outburst, save for a "Sit down, runt," muttered from somewhere on the table. With a huff, they plopped down into their seat and added twelve more cards to their stack.

"We're not playing stackable cards next round," Ace grumbled, slumping in their chair.

Cessa, who had just been watching everyone with her assumptions in the corner saw Ace's outburst, her lips curling into a devilish grin. That seems like a fun opportunity. She sauntered over in her sassy cat walk way of walking, internally analyzing all the players.

Grabbing one of the chairs (or if its a bench ignore everything lol) she twisted it around so the back of it faced the table before swinging one leg over to sit on it. She leaned forward into the back part of her chair, her arms resting on the top of it before setting her chin on her wrist.

"So, whose winnin'?" Cessa asked, her pirate accent apparent as she looked at the players sitting on the table. Her gaze held on Ace, however. They interested her. Surprisingly enough, Cessa had never seen a Kavi before, but their eyes and skin, especially those golden veins drew her in. They were pretty. Pretty like something she wanted to steal and use for herself, however she decided to. Greed was a pirates best friend, and even if she grew bored of them, she knew the Kavi would fetch a hefty price.

Ace glanced up from their cards, their eyes briefly narrowing at the newcomer. They held her gaze for only a moment before returning to the growing stack of cards in the middle of the table.

"Well, it's not me," they grumbled.

And of course, out of all the cards they had, Ace didn't have a single blue. At least they had a green seven they could play.

Cessa snorted softly, her chair tipping and balancing precariously on its front two legs as she leaned closer to Ace, looking over his shoulder at his cards. "Damn, you're kinda screwed, mousey. Its a good thing you don't have any wagers on your hand."

She glanced over at the rest of the people with an unimpressed look, completed with her signature grin and eyebrow raise. "Next round deal me in, and maybe we can put some stakes on this puppy."

Kazimir wasn't sure what kind of game the kid was playing, but it certainly wasn't poker, and that was the only game he knew. It must've been a gambling game for things to get so tense.

"I'm not," he grunted, pushing the weight up and tucking it on the bars over his head, so it stayed.

Marius was moral support, but Kazimir was feeling restless.

He took in a deep breath and did another rep.



Freedom. Sy could taste the smell of it, clear as the sweat on every prisoner's brow and the stain of desperation in their suits. He'd been planning this for years, and he knew exactly who and what he needed -- and time was short. Getting past automated systems wasn't impossible, but the fallibility of organic matter was always more reliably manipulated than the strategic chance of hacking into something infinite.

He needed a team. He needed allies. He needed a set of skillsets outside of his own to shield him and bypass things outside of his abilities -- because, without a lab, he was limited. Resources were hard to come by, and snatching something out of the medbay was his first attempt at collection.

He had a syringe, hidden on his person. A syringe composed of small, metallic pieces and insular plastic could be dissected and reshaped into a different tool. He just needed the right environment to play.

So he went to the craft station.

Crafts, of course, were limited to harmless creations that no one was allowed to take with them to their cells. Crafting, then, was also supervised, as the entire recreation area was monitored by cameras and sentient eyes, with guards posted at all corners of the room behind shielded windows.

The only thing they didn't have eyes on was what could be shadowed, and that only meant he couldn't look too suspicious. Crouching over oneself was too obvious, but getting lost in the shadow of another could be happenstance. A situational blunder, or a poor judgment call, but not deviant.

So he waited for a shadow to come to him.

Until then, he sat at a table pasting two pieces of paper together precisely with glitter-glue so that they became one. And in the process, he set his eyes ever-so-infrequently on his first choice.

Moirai Hemlock.

The eclipse.

Spoiler

@rangerofithilien I summon thee, aka eclipse, who can notice she's being subtly eyes by a noob (new to her, at least... i think?)

Eclipse quietly stayed in the exact same spot she always did during recreation, a place where she could observed the entire room when she wasn't reading of course. Reading was always her first choice during recreation. There was never a shortage of books and they gave her more ideas, opened up more possibilities, ones the she may have never thought of otherwise. She had lived a thousand lives this way, lived through hundreds of years, in the body of someone else as her mind slipped into the story, carefully calculating each character's move, predicting what would happen next. It made her feel just a little more like her own kind, to be able to take the form of another once hers would fail, gave her the fluidity and freedom of her kind in such an oppressive place instead of restricting her to live solely human half of her body. It was a mental relief.

And usually, she did so peacefully without attracting the attention of any of the other prisoners but today, something was off. Every chapter she had gained the habit of looking up to survey the room and take careful account of what each individual was doing, learning habits, trends, tendencies, capabilities, in her own form of mentally documented scan sampling. Today though, today something had made her look up between chapters, a feeling on the back of her neck, a feeling of being watched. While she knew they were constantly being watched, she had gotten comfortable under those eyes. This however was different.

She took a moment, carefully calculated and did a scan sample of the room once more. The inseparable duo were over by the weights like usual. Her new cellmate, Ace, was involved in a vicious game of uno. That fact would have to go into her mental profile on them. There were a couple newer inmates over there as well, all seemingly younger. Then, her eyes locked as she looked upon the Shah at the crafting area.

As far as she knew, he was new, but with the way he subtly looked up, particularly at her, she could tell there was a sharp mind working behind his eyes and that he had been in the prison much longer then previously assumed.

A shah could be useful to her cause, they were adaptable, an all purpose tool, should the dimmer be able to come off. He could function as just that for her although she would have to tread carefully, as if walking through a minefield as not to let him onto her train of thought because something about him told her he was much smarter then anyone else in the room.

Well, besides herself of course.

He clearly wanted her to come to him with the way he kept looking at her however, that would be allowing herself to play right into his plans. That was no way to be in control of a situation. Instead, she watched him, monitoring his every move as she stayed right where she was.

She would go to him, yes, unless he came to her first, but it would be on her own terms, not his.

Ace leaned away from the girl and gave her an odd look. When another draw two was directed toward them, Ace sighed and slammed their head on the table, blindly reaching out for a card. This was a terribly unfortunate game of Uno.

Ace lifted their head, gaze focused on their cards as they spoke to Cessa. "Not like we can wager much. I mean, the most we have in terms of personal items is spoons."

Stationed at the door, Rufus watched the prisoners. There were a few new ones that had been added. He knew who most of them were, as he was stationed to patrol in their block. He watched as some of them made crafts, some played a card came, and others worked out. The Xulian was punching the living daylights out of a punching bag, and he wasn't going to stop until it was no more than sand spread across the ground. He wasn't too happy about the damage to his carapace his cellmate caused in their fighting. It was either that or he stood moodily wherever he chose to. Rufus prefered the latter because it meant still having a punching bag.
A few prisoners, along with a Kavi that looked like they were still a kid, played uno in the corner. Uno games were amusing to watch, but on occasion has gotten out of hand.
Some chose to work out. Few prisoners chose to do crafts, and even less chose to read books.
His attention shifted back to the inmates playing uno as he heard the thunk of a head hitting the table.

Hundreds of millions of beasts plagued Smokey's body under siege, and there he was, smoking his breath away in front of the bathroom mirror. Every so often, the guard posted outside would peer over his shoulder, making sure the mangy mutt wasn't up to anything, but he dared not intrude on his privacy, lest the mutt transform into a wild beast.

What a pain in the ass, Smokey snarled.

He took another drag from a cigarette he found from God knows where. Smokey just wanted peace and quiet, save for the occasional prison riot if one were to break out. In a place like this, it wasn't likely. Even so, Smokey Braggs was quite popular already. It's true that rumors spread like wildfire, but the man in charge’s word was to be taken for bible, or all hell would be unleashed. Handcuffs or no handcuffs, cybernetics or no cybernetics, Smokey was very much still capable of decapitating another guard's head.

A cybernetic. Lucky for him, he always joked sarcastically. It was supposed to be a replacement for his spine. It would save his life, they said. And still, his body was constantly at war.

Meanwhile, as Smokey gawked at his reflection, the bud being grinded and chipped away into a cold powder between his fingers was completely lost on him, or maybe it was he who was lost, gazing into the mirror—into the black holes of his eyes. The end of the cigar inevitably crumbled, ember-first, and landed on top of Smokey's middle finger like a fresh, steaming pile of bird crap. “Tch!” He jerked, clicking his tongue irritably the moment he realized his cigarette was leaking warm piss on his hand. It hurt, to Smokey's surprise, but only for a moment.

When Smokey went to take another puff of the stuff, it crumbled completely in a matter of seconds, and only the rolling stayed in tact. He just glared at what was left with a look of disdain and wondered if this decaying world truly was out to get him.

A prayer for guidance, a shooting star to wish upon—Smokey could neither give or receive. He never could. It's not like it mattered anyways. Shooting stars were fleeting and prayers lingered unanswered. He'd rather save himself the trouble of believing in ridiculous fairytales.

He flicked away the crumpled up paper, cursing bitterly as he turned to leave. Day in and day out, Smokey was reminded that he was just another urchin left for dead on his own, and he didn't have much time left before he crumbled to ash. But until that day would come, it was back into the outside world he went.

Bright, brilliant lights blinded Smokey, obscuring what was really in front of him—if only for a moment. He wasn’t out in space, being chased by pigs in hulking slabs of metal. No, he was somewhere that mattered. A place where he could dig his toes into warm sand, free from the prison of tacky white track sneakers that clutched his feet too tightly.

But with every step deeper into the recreation room, the illusion unraveled.
The fluorescent lights still blazed in his face, but the sun’s warmth—real warmth—was nowhere to be found. Then the sharp squeak of sneakers broke through the moment.

Smokey's eyes jerked open. Off to his left, two inmates were locked in a one-on-one basketball game. One drove hard toward the net, weaving with the ball like his life depended on it. But no matter how fast he moved, the defender was always there, cutting him off, matching him step for step. The offensive player hesitated, then crouched low, coiling like a spring. He leapt, reaching for a jump shot.

Smokey didn’t react. Just watched.

Predictably, the shot was blocked. The ball spun out of control, bounced once, and rolled to a stop at Smokey’s feet. Across the court, the two inmates watched him, waiting. Silent. Patient. He stared back, then down at the ball.

As if he could be bothered.

With a grunt of contempt, he kicked it away in the opposite direction and stalked off. “Dumbasses. Can’t play for shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. His neck drooped from his shoulders like a weathered branch clinging to a cliffside tree, his hands buried deep in his pockets.