Thomas had spent the night in jail, after being caught by police and explaining to them that he wasn’t a Civ user and that he had gone there to get “totally wasted, my dudes.” They hadn’t figured out his true intentions yet, nor did they know that he was Phantom Limb because for some reason his bag with his costume was missing. The Neonight North Reactor had apparently no signs of damage, which gave Thomas a brief moment of relief before realizing that he was stuck in prison.

Helena had two rules for Thomas as part of his employment: Don’t betray her and don’t get arrested. Thomas getting arrested meant he could be interrogated, and they could get his DNA on file, and they’d take mugshots of him, etc. Thomas had a pretty spotless record despite the number of crimes he had committed, which was certainly admirable, but “admirable” wasn’t going to keep Helena from firing him. And in his industry “fired” means literally set on fire after getting two heat bullets sent through your face. Above all, Thomas needed to keep his story straight. He’d keep his name since they could figure that out pretty easily, but other than that, pretty much everything was different: he was “between jobs” and had “no history of violence” but was “paying the bills with his parent’s inheritance.” Everything else should’ve been fine.

“How are you today Mr. Finn?” an officer had asked him, sitting down at an aluminum table in a small room across from him. It was dimly lit and cold, but Thomas felt warm from the pressure regardless.

“I’m paying the bills with my parent’s inheritance. How about you, Officer?” Thomas responded, smiling like a child.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Finn,” the officer answered, unsure of what to say. “Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You’re going to be spending your time in here until your trial. Trespassing isn’t a serious offence, and you have no history of violence. You told us that last part dozens of times. You won’t be spending much time here, but I suggest you contact a lawyer. If you’re found guilty, it’ll only be a few weeks in here.”

“That seems like a long time for just trespassing.” Thomas laughed, forcing himself to seem amicable to the officers. “Everybody gets a little tipsy, destroys property, and breaks into a critical government building. I’m in my twenties, for heaven’s sake!”

“You’re twenty-eight.”

“That’s still technically my twenties.”

“Well, in Mars years, that’s . . . well, it doesn’t matter. The reason we’re being cautious is that our security guard witness said there were two trespassers, one of whom was a Civ-using vigilante, which is a far more serious crime. Now we can’t seem to find our witness anymore either. Which is why we need to investigate further.” The officer stood up from his chair and opened the door for Thomas. “I’ll show you to your cell, and you’ll be allowed one call from your Unit.”

“Hello.” The voice on the other end was cold and apathetic. “Is it done?” she asked.

“Hi Helena, it’s good to hear your voice,” Thomas said, taking a while to finish each word because he dreaded getting to what he had to explain. “So, I’m in a bit of a pickle . . . I kind of got arrested by the police? Now don’t be mad! It’s not as bad as you think. They don’t know I’m . . . y’know. Hand-man.”

“Who the fuck is Hand-man? Is this your new alias? Because that last one was stupid, and I’m—”

“Uh, no. I just didn’t want to say my real hero name, which is cool and good. They have me arrested for breaking and entering, and that’s it.”

Helena went quiet. “I’ll take care of it.” she finally said after a long pause of contemplation.

“Really? You seem weirdly calm, not that you are an angry person or anything! Unless that’s what you’re going for, in which case that’s great. Sorry, forget I said that.”

“I’m only choosing to be understanding because you did what I asked so well and without complaint. You did kill Robert Engels, correct?”

“Uh, yup. Sure did.”

“And nobody knows you’re a Civ user aside from the police?”

“Exactly. Glad we’re on the same page. How exactly are you going to take care of this, by the way?”

Helena had already hung up.

Thomas wasn’t entirely sure what to do for the next few days while he awaited trial. He certainly didn’t want to stay here until trial. He had a life outside of prison and all, and every second he was here was another second his identity could be found out. Escaping wouldn’t be much of an option either. Doing something like that would almost definitely secure his reputation as a powerful Civ user, and get the truth out to the law, which would either lead to him spending life in prison or being assassinated by his boss. Not fun.

“Excuse me, officer? Are there Civ users in this prison?” Thomas asked the officer guiding him to his cell.

“A handful. Your cellmate is one of them.” The officer pointed towards the cafeteria that was just down the hall. It was bustling with prisoners getting something to eat before turning in, but despite the volume of the crowd, Thomas knew exactly who the officer was pointing to. “His name is Piotr ‘Poltergeist’ Ivanov.” The officer was pointing at an extremely large and muscular man, easily seven feet tall from the looks of it, and almost as wide. He had a long and thick white beard that flowed like an avalanche down to his chest, and he looked to be about mid-fifties.

“Oh. Good.” Thomas had always heard that the first thing you should do in prison is challenge the toughest prisoner to a fight to show you mean business, and that was his plan. But now he wasn’t so sure. “Why do they call him Poltergeist?”

“His Civ mainly. Don’t fuck with him, Thomas. He’s been in here for . . . well, I don’t know how long. Some people seem to think he was always here, since this place’s beginning. Maybe that’s why they call him Poltergeist. Anyways, he was involved with one of Neonight’s most notorious gangs. He killed his wife too. So, don’t try that ‘the first thing you should do in prison is challenge the toughest prisoner to a fight to show you mean business’ thing. It’s not going to turn out well for you—especially not your face. Well, good luck, Thomas!” the officer said, walking away from Thomas and back to the administrative area.

“That’s good. Really, really, really good to hear.” The prison had an almost green tint to the stone walls. They looked old and damp. It looked like a medieval dungeon, with cracks in the walls and wrought iron bars guarding the cells as opposed to the more advanced technology used in other prisons. Thomas guessed that it was a transition prison—a place to hold people before they went to more secure facilities, like the Dark Star Horizon that was specifically designed for housing powerful Civ-users off-world. If that was the case, then why had Piotr in here for so long?