The AeroVan humd as it ascended, the city of Astraeus unfolding beneath them like a glittering treasure land. Xavier pressed his face against the reinforced glass, his breath fogging the surface as he took in the view.
The city sprawled beneath him, a labyrinth of neon and steel, its towering spires piercing the clouds. Hovercars darted between buildings like fireflies, their ion trails painting temporary constellations in the sky. The Celestial Haven floated in the distance, its massive form casting a shadow over the city like a silent guardian.
The AeroVan banked sharply, its engines roaring as it approached the Celestial Penitentiary. The prison lood ahead, a jagged asteroid of reinforced steel and glowing force fields. Its surface was pockmarked with docking bays, each one pulsing with energy as ships ca and went.
The AeroVan descended, its engines whining as it maneuvered into a docking bay. The doors hissed open, and Xavier was hauled out, his boots clanging against the tal grating.
The guards marched him through a series of airlocks, each one sealing shut behind him with a hiss. He was stripped of his belongings, his clothes replaced with a standard-issue prison jumpsuit. A scanner humd as it mapped his biotrics, its red laser tracing the contours of his face.
A guard barked orders, his voice echoing in the sterile processing chamber. "Hands on the wall. Legs spread."
Xavier complied, his fingers pressing against the cold tal as the guard patted him down. A neural inhibitor was clamped around his wrist, its blue light pulsing softly.
"Welco to the Celestial Penitentiary," the guard sneered. "You’re gonna love it here."
"Oh, I am sure," Xavier replied with a smug look on his face.
The doors to the main cell block groaned open, revealing a cavernous space filled with the hum of alien chatter. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and sothing faintly tallic, the walls lined with glowing force fields that pulsed with energy.
The inmates were a riot of colors and shapes—hulking Draconians with scales that shimred like oil slicks, lithe Zolakians with iridescent skin, hunched Klie with their chitinous exoskeletons. Humans mingled among them, their faces a mix of fear and defiance.
The cell block was a maze of catwalks and platforms, the walls covered in graffiti that glowed faintly in the dim light. The hum of conversation was a symphony of alien tongues, the occasional burst of laughter cutting through the din.
Xavier was shoved into a cell, the force field flickering to life behind him with a crackle of energy. The Draconian in the neighboring cell eyed him, his slit-pupiled gaze assessing.
"Fresh at," the Draconian rumbled, his voice like gravel. "You won’t last a week."
Xavier didn’t answer. Not because he didn’t know what to say in response, but he simply didn’t hear what the Draconian said.
The hours dragged on like a broken clock, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness. Xavier sat on the thin cot in his cell, his fingers tracing the neural inhibitor on his wrist. He had already researched what would happen next—once his report file was created, he would be taken to the interrogation room. And then, he would finally be face to face with Dominic Hart.
’And then, the real ga would begin.’
A loud clang echoed through the cell block, followed by the hiss of force fields deactivating. The prisoners stirred, their chains rattling as they lined up, their eyes dull with resignation. The guards stood at their posts, their visors scanning the crowd like predators sizing up prey.
Xavier fell into line, his boots clanging against the tal grating. The line shuffled forward, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sothing faintly tallic. They reached the dining area—if you could call it that. It was more like a junkyard, the walls covered in graffiti that glowed faintly in the dim light. The food was a revolting ss—grayish slop that slled like rotting at, lumpy gruel that looked like it had been scraped off the floor, and mysterious chunks floating in a murky broth.
Xavier’s stomach churned as he grabbed a tray, his fingers curling around the plastic. He didn’t feel like eating it—he might even pass out from the sll alone. But he didn’t want to act up, so he grabbed his plate and sat at an empty table, his tray untouched.
A few minutes later, a large group of prisoners moved past him, their chains rattling like a death march. The leader—a hulking Draconian with scales that shimred like oil slicks—suddenly stopped, his slit-pupiled gaze locking onto Xavier. He stalked forward, his gang following like shadows.
The Draconian grabbed Xavier’s chin, forcing his head up. "Haven’t seen you around," he rumbled, his voice like gravel. "New?"
One of the other prisoners—a Zorathian with iridescent skin—nodded. "Got here today."
The Draconian’s lips curled into a smirk. "What’d you do?"
The Zolakian shifted uncomfortably. "R*pe. Murder."
The Draconian threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the dining area. "You?" He sneered at Xavier. "You don’t look like you could hurt a fly. But then again, animals and humans aren’t so different when it cos to appearances."
He dropped Xavier’s chin, his gang following as he stalked away, their laughter fading into the hum of the prison.
The al break ended with a sudden, violent crackle of electricity. Guards stord in, their stun batons flashing as they tazed anyone still lingering over their trays. Prisoners yelped, their bodies jerking as they were dragged back to their cells, their chains rattling like a death march.
Xavier watched from his seat, his fingers curling around the edge of his tray. He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He just waited as the guards approached.
One of them grabbed his arm, hauling him up. "Move, scum."
Xavier didn’t resist. He just let them drag him back to his cell, the force field flickering to life behind him with a crackle of energy.
’Life could be pretty interesting here, except for the unconditional beatings and violence. Although, my plan is to get out of here soon. When will they take to the interrogation room to record my statent? I will have to ask other prisoners about their experiences.’
The hours dragged on, the prison falling into a restless silence. Xavier sat on his cot, his stomach growling. He had hoped for sothing—anything—to eat at night. But as the hours ticked by, he realized the grim truth: the prison only fed its inmates once a day. That’s why everyone had been shoveling down that revolting slop at lunch—because eating shit was better than dying starving.
The force fields of several cells deactivated with a hiss, and prisoners began to file out, their chains rattling as they moved. Xavier hesitated, then followed, assuming this was so kind of nightly routine.
But as he stepped into the common ground, he realized his mistake.
The space was a chaotic ss—prisoners from different cell blocks mingling, their voices a low, dangerous hum. So were trading contraband, others were gambling, and a few were just brawling, their fists flying as guards looked on, indifferent.
Xavier’s fingers twitched. His research hadn’t ntioned this.
Prison brutality was about to begin.
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