After the chaos in the food section yesterday, things had calmed down in the underground jail. Aryan was escorted back to his cell by two guards, their faces emotionless, silent except for the sound of their boots echoing against the concrete floor. As the heavy metal doors shut behind him, locking him into the suffocating darkness of his small, cold cell, Aryan leaned against the wall, his thoughts racing.
This wasn't just any jail. The place was a fortress. Layers of guards, levels of prison categories, a mysterious artifact that suppressed everyone's powers, and on top of all that, Officer Rod—an elite soldier who exuded authority and danger.
Aryan let out a heavy sigh. "If I want to get out of here," he muttered to himself, "I need to be smarter than I've ever been."
That night, as the underground jail fell into a dead silence, Aryan lay on his thin mattress, staring at the low, cracked ceiling. His mind wasn't still. It was working like a machine. He began replaying every interaction he'd had so far. Every soldier, every corridor, every camera, every motion.
Then it hit him—he couldn't do this alone.
"I need someone," he whispered into the dark. "Someone who knows this place. Someone clever. Someone desperate enough to try."
The next morning, the metallic sound of the food bell rang again, echoing through the long corridors of the prison. The prisoners of Level D and Level C were lined up and escorted to the dining section. Aryan, alert and sharp, walked silently in the line. His eyes scanned the room the moment he stepped inside.
And there he was. The same Level C prisoner from the day before, sitting in the far corner, eating quietly, alone.
Aryan walked straight towards him.
Sliding his tray on the table, Aryan sat opposite him without waiting for an invitation.
"Hey," Aryan said casually, trying not to seem too eager. "I'm Aryan. Who are you?"
The man didn't look up. He kept eating, chewing slowly, his eyes fixed on his food.
Aryan smiled. "You like the food here that much?"
Still no response.
Aryan leaned in a bit. "I want to ask you something."
Finally, the man raised his head, eyes cold and unreadable. "Say it and leave."
Aryan didn't flinch. "I know you're not really a criminal. You don't belong here."
The man's eyes sharpened instantly, a flicker of tension flashing across his face. "What did you just say?"
Aryan didn't back down. "I know it. The others may not, but I do. You're not what you're pretending to be."
The man narrowed his eyes. "And what makes you so sure?"
Aryan leaned forward, his voice lower, almost a whisper. "Because I see things people don't. And I've got a hunch. You're looking for something. Just like me."
The man was silent for a moment. Then he exhaled and sat back. "So what if I am?"
Aryan glanced around to make sure no guards were too close. "I need your help. I have to get out of here."
The man laughed bitterly. "Escape? From this place?"
"I've done it before," Aryan replied calmly. "Back in my world, I escaped tighter security than this. More than once."
"Then you don't get how serious this place is," the man said. "This jail blocks powers using an ancient artifact. You can't even light a damn candle with your Pluse here."
"I know," Aryan said. "That's why I want to destroy it or cut its power source."
The man froze. "You're insane."
"Maybe," Aryan replied. "But that's what makes me dangerous."
"You think you can just walk up to that artifact? You know who's guarding it, right? Officer Rod. The most dangerous soldier in this entire city. And before you even see Rod, you'll have to pass a hundred other soldiers. You're dreaming, kid."
"I've been called worse," Aryan smirked. "And I've survived worse."
The man shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "You're either brave or stupid."
"I'll take both," Aryan said. "But I'm also serious. I've been observing the guard rotations, the food timings, even the way they handle misbehaving inmates. There's a system. And every system has cracks."
The man went quiet again, staring at Aryan. He didn't respond. Aryan took that as a cue.
He stood up and took his tray. "Think about it. You can rot here for the rest of your life pretending to be a criminal. Or you can help me, and we both walk out."
Just as Aryan turned, the food bell rang. The guards began shouting, ordering all prisoners to return to their cells.
The man remained seated, watching Aryan leave, his expression unreadable.