"You actually fought one of the main bad guys Arte!" Cole blabbered out while leaning into Arte's face making him uncomfortable.

Corey was doing the same.

"Yeah the one you fought is the guy who's taken down actual paladin."

There wasn't any trepidation in their tones, no anguish in their eyes like Arte had. But he could tell that there words weren't coming from a bad place. They were genuinely interested and Arte couldn't tell why, he hated every second of it and never wanted to run into someone that dangerous again.

"He beat me like a ragdoll though."

Arte would prefer it if he could just find a way to just be at the right positions to lead people capable of dealing with the danger to it.

Kind of like a keeper, but instead he chose a job where he would constantly be risking his life like this.

"You still fought, you gave it your all to save that kid." Corey said.

Arte nodded, over their short time as a team he has come to notice that out of the duo, Corey was certainly the more empathetic one, and he wasn't just dumb like Cole. He was casually stupid but understood when to speak and what to say.

Like he was already someone with vast experience.

"Wonder how it would have gone with all three of us there?" Cole thought while looking at the sky.

Arte believes it could have gone better. Corey was incredibly durable and knew how to fight well with his power, and Cole could have easily made escaping quickly an option.

But there was no point in wishing for better outcomes, in the end, the kid was retrieved and he's still not dead.

Still not...dead,

"Who healed you by the way?" Cole asked. This was one of the moments where Corey stayed quiet and was ready to butt in and change the direction of the conversation if he felt it was necessary.

From what the two of them knew, Arte was stabbed and then made his way to the medical team and was healed. But after seeing the large pool of blood left behind they could only assume the worse had happened.

"It was Juno." he said.

Cole twisted his head and closed his eyes thinking up something for a second... "She's hot,"

And the standard idiocy reared it's fluffy white head again. Arte sighed and Corey gave a strained smile at the actions of his long time friend.

Corey then asked... "Do you know how? or were you out for the whole thing?"

Arte nodded his head, he was out for the whole thing but after he woke up Juno explained to him how her power worked.

"She moulds a clay like substance that attaches to you and replaces what was lost, after a few days it will fully mesh with you and you won't even notice the difference. Incredible."

That was more a silent thought but he couldn't help but voice it.

Such a powerful healing ability, even the school's medic Elara Morgan believes that Juno will quickly surpass her as long as she stays consistent and is used to her powers. There could be a ton of money to be made with a power like that.

"That's great. Good thing she was so close by... or else... you never know right?"

The atmosphere changed quickly around the three boys sat on some random steps outside of their school.

'You never know...?'

Arte knew what would have happened.

He would have died. Plain and simple.

He would have died and been forgotten, crumbled at the starting line to his journey.

It was such a messy feeling, it turned his stomach whenever he thought on death. He had never had anyone close to him die, and he didn't want to be the first one. Not anymore.

'That isn't selfish is it?'

But the truth of the matter is, Arte needs to do more, he needs to be more. Or else his walk won't be a long one. He wants to be much more than who he is, he doesn't care much for being in the spotlight of things.

He didn't even like getting the praise from the monarch earlier today. But he does want to do something that leaves an impact, even if only on one person he would be fine with it, just like Greg Knox had done for him all those long months ago.

Arte then thought of the kid he... saved, or at least got out of harms way for a few minutes before losing him again.

Oscar Dempsey, his eyes were a lot like Arte's. He wondered what that child felt about him. Juniper Fay had told him that Oscar was still asleep and will be kept away from crowds of people, but that he should visit at least once.

'Why though? I was just doing my job.'

But is simply doing his job enough?

Arte got up,

"Where are you going?" Corey asked.

"Library. I want to check up on some stuff."

___

(10 Days before the prisons destruction)

On the crisp morning of October tenth, Phillip Goodman took a deep breath, straightening his posture before he stepped into Pacific bay Correctional facility.

Dressed in his new, stiff uniform, Phillip's slim frame seemed to disappear under layers of navy fabric. He ran a hand through his dark, neatly combed hair, adjusted his collar, and took another slow breath.

His nerves barely masked by the professional smile he wore, 'this is a fresh start at stability'.

The facility stretched out in front of him,

A massive structure of reinforced concrete and glass, it's modern design clashing with the bleak reality of what lay within. He took in the faint scent of the ocean—a strange juxtaposition to the institutional chill that pressed down as he crossed the threshold.

He'd been through countless interviews in his corporate career, but something about his hiring process at Pacific Bay had felt unnervingly different, Phillip had felt an odd weight in the air. The questions had been intense and unusual, far removed from past experiences.

He'd been asked how he felt about authority, about power, and whether he believes he would be able to make difficult decisions. There was something in the way they had watched him as he answered, like they were dissecting him at each response.

At the time he had dismissed it as a step to gauge his readiness for the uniqueness of the work he was stepping into.

Now, stepping inside, the air felt heavier. 'Don't overthink it,' he told himself. 'Just another job, just another paycheck.' He squared his shoulders and started down the corridor, his gaze going over the smooth walls, painted a neutral, uninspired shade of beige.

Every step echoed, each footfall swallowed by the hollow silence of the hallways.

Other guards passed by him with indifferent nods, some barely glancing his way and others smirking. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the large glass panes; a man of average build with a face that wore both the weariness of lost ambitions and the optimism of someone with the belief of new beginnings.

Philip was a stand-up guy who believed in fairness and decency. 'Your a good boy,' his mother had pinched his cheeks a lot as he was growing up muttering that phrase into his ears.

Living up to her kindness and warmth was enough for him.

He caught sight of a security guard, standing by a console, eyes locked on a monitor. The image of inmates pacing in a dormitory appeared on a screen. Ten of them to be exact. Each in their own space. Phillip's mind briefly wondered—Are we supposed to be seeing this? What could they be in for?—and other thoughts as similar.

A voice broke his train of thought.

"Goodman right?"

Phillip turned to see a tall man, broad shouldered and with greying hair that was beginning to thin, approaching him. He wore a different badge than the rest of the staff Phillip had seen so far.

"Yeah, that's me." Phillip said, managing a small smile despite the nervous knot in his stomach.

"I'm captain Dalton," the man said, his voice stern but not unkind. He extended a hand. "Welcome to the team. You're stationed in Building D. That's where you'll be working."

"Building D?" Phillip asked, blinking at the gentleman.

Dalton nodded and gestured to the left, towards another long corridor that split off from the central area. "It's a quiet area—ten inmates max. Most of the guards are veterans. They'll show you the ropes, get you used to the systems."

Phillip followed Dalton's gaze down the hall, where the other guards were gathered, all in standard black uniforms that could be seen on regular policemen, they were engaged in conversation.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Inmates, Phillip noticed, were behind locked doors, out of sight. He couldn't help but think it strange that there wasn't even a small window for both parties to at least know the other was there. But above the cell door was a little monitor that showed the prisoners, each monitor for each cell.

Even shown some on the toilet. 'So no privacy then,'

The captain's eyes flickered over to him for a moment, sizing him up. "You'll get a briefing when you start your shift. They'll explain the protocols. But remember, things move differently here, we have quite a few of those awakened scum. So you'll have to toughen up."

Phillip swallowed, trying to shake off the uncomfortable sensation pooling in his stomach. "Yeah, I get that." he replied with a thin smile.

"Good. Just keep your head on straight, and don't let them get to you. You're doing important work here."

As captain Dalton turned to leave, Phillip stood still for a moment.

He followed the captain's instructions, moving down the corridor and approaching the security station. The area seemed calm. There was no bustle of people, no hectic energy. Even the inmates—whom Phillip could see through the thick glass windows— seemed distant. Isolated within a small dormitory.

There was an eerie stillness about them.

Standing at the entrance to Building D, he took a deep breath, his hand brushing against the cold metal door. 'It's just a job.' he reminded himself.

___

(9 Days before the prison destruction)

Today, Phillip was shadowing a man named officer Daniels, someone who had been working at the correctional facility for almost two years now.

Daniels was calm, and seemed too comfortable in his role and was very dismissive of the prisoners. "Don't get too used to the prisoners, they typically don't stay more than a year."

When Phillip asked why, it was because many come through the correctional facility and than are transferred to other prisons that can better house them, or if they are here on minor crimes then they would typically be let go.

Daniels moved with a confidence that Phillip wished he had.

"Goodman," Daniels got his attention. "I don't know how other prison guards are around the country, but here we don't pussyfoot around. We properly demonstrate who is on top here when it comes to them." he said the last bit with venom.

Phillip nodded.

They arrived at the first dormitory unit and Daniels turned to face him. "This is where the real work is. Inmates in here are mostly low-risk, but they've got their own problems. You'll need to learn how to keep your distance, but also, how to break that distance when necessary."

Phillip's eyes flickered toward the inmates monitor, now most of them were lounging in a small area with the doors to their cells behind them. Each lounging around in their designated area, some standing, and some sitting, and looking towards the monitors above one of the cells Phillip could see that there was one though, laid down on his mattress in a fetal position. He was a boy, couldn't have been past his teens.

Before Philip could even ask about him he heard officer Daniels voice again.

"Don't let them get too comfortable, you don't want them thinking they can get one over on you."

Phillip's stomach churned. 'Get one over on you?' Most of them didn't look like hardened criminal, especially the child.

Daniels moved in on the closest inmate to him. A man named Richard, who was crouched on the floor looking up and listening to the conversation happening around him.

"Hey Richard," Daniels barked, "You've got work to do, not wasting time crouched at the feet of another."

The inmate, Richard, shifted up to his feet nervously, he didn't respond. Daniels leaned in, his face inches away from Richard's. "What did I just say?" He demanded.

Richard mumbled something under his breath, his eyes downcast, but it didn't stop Daniels. With one swift motion, he yanked Richard from his spot and pushed him toward a small workbench where a pile of paperwork waited. "Get to it." He ordered, his voice now icy cold.

Phillip stood frozen, his mind racing. He felt a tug of sympathy for the man, but there was more than that, he felt a sense of guilt. 'Is this my job?' He wondered.

He didn't see any reason for how Daniels had acted, Richard was clearly uncomfortable, Phillip would have taken the situation slower and maybe appeared a little softer.

As they continued their rounds, Daniels made no effort to hide his harsh treatment of the inmates. He snapped at one for moving too slowly, shoved another who had spoken out of turn, and didn't even spare a glance for the few who stayed silent and compliant. It all felt wrong.

But as they moved from one unit to the next, Daniels casually explained the crimes of each of the inmates, little snippets of the history that brought them here.

Richard had assaulted a police officer, Steven had a string of petty thefts but his last crime had been an armed robbery.

He rattled off their charges as if the men were nothing more than a list of offenses. As each one was named Phillip felt a strange shift in him. He had always believed in second chances, in redemption, so he found it hard to look poorly even on criminals, unless they committed some unforgivable crimes, like murder and rape.

Phillip knew that was probably the wrong way to look at things, but he wouldn't just box everyone who was an offender as someone bad.

"And what did that boy do?" Phillip asked Daniels, Daniels stared to the monitor and his eyes seemed to gain a new light.

"Oh, the Jap," Phillip felt a sting in his chest as he heard the term spat out with malice, Officer Daniels good and moral character was slowly diminishing. "Well, that punks an awakened. They found out that he used his power to mindfuck with some people while he was a student, you can just imagine what someone with a power like that could have gotten up to."

Wow. Phillip was told that he could find out more from the statements that had been sent over from his arrest, the boy's name was Eli Sazaki.

He didn't like to judge but when it came to awakened people you almost had to judge them on site. Knowing their powers sometimes made that a little easier too.

Phillip was hoping that the boy was not as bad as he seems, hoping that he was someone to quickly fall in line and learn from mistakes. 'He's still young, fifteen. Too young.'

"Like a lot of people before you, you may be thinking that some don't belong here Goodman," Daniels said in a casual voice as he just passed another man, this one younger than the earlier crowd, "But that's not up to us. All we do is teach them order and keep them in line. Don't worry about who deserves what. That's above our pay grade."

Almost everything that Daniels was saying was uncomfortably settling in Phillips chest. 'It's not up to us; then what is?'

"Just keeping them in line, anyway possible?" Phillip asked, blinking as he gazed to the broad back of officer Daniels chest.

Daniels gave him a sideways glance. "That's the job, Goodman. Do it well and you go home at the end of the day with your head held high."

It was only the second day and Phillip was finding himself becoming more and more uneasy.

___

(8 days before the prison destruction)

Phillip's pulse hammered in his ears as Daniels loomed over Marcus, his face contorted with a fury that bordered on something unrecognizable. The room grew still, the air thick with anticipation as multiple pairs of eyes were watching.

Officer Daniel's voice, when it came was low, guttural like a growl.

"Where do you get off acting the way you do Marcus?" Daniels hissed, his hand snapping out to grip Marcus by the collar and slam him back against the cold, concrete wall. The thud echoed through the room, the sound of a body hitting stone, a sharp, ugly sound that reverberated in Phillip's chest like a drumbeat.

"You don't own these halls rat!" Marcus and his tall and lanky form did not flinch,

his face stayed blank, apart from the scrunched up nose. There was defiance in him. And it stirred something inside Phillip, something uneasy.

Officer Daniels seemed none the wiser, his anger was consuming him. He pressed harder against Marcus, pinning him to the wall, his breathing coming out in ragged gasps. "You aint shit Marcus, nothing in my eyes but trash," he spat, words were coming out like poison. But why?

Marcus's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "Go ahead," he muttered, his voice thick with venom. "Treat me like scum, Daniels. But you're just as bad. You're no better than me."

Phillip felt a jolt, like a cold wave rushing over him. His chest tightened, his breath shallow. He felt a shift, like the floor beneath his feet tilted.

What Daniels was doing was wrong. *But wasn't Marcus just as bad*? He was the one who committed the crimes that landed him here in the first place.

"That's it. Strike!"

Phillip was told that an officer can call a strike on a prisoner leading them to give them a moment to straighten up and then the officer giving them a punishment that they have to follow.

"Fuck you,"

The moment felt suffocating to Phillip. Daniel's was now shouting, his face flushed red with rage, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. "Shut up you little shit," Daniels snarled, and with a swift, brutal motion, he shoved Marcus against the wall again. This time, a crack split the air as Marcus's head bounced off the stone, and blood spurted from his nose, a deep red streak against the grey concrete.

Philip's legs felt like lead, his body frozen in place, but his eyes were glued to the scene. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as he watched Marcus crumple to the floor, his body slumping as Daniels stepped back, taking a deep breath.

Phillip could hear his own heartbeat now, louder than anything else. My ma wouldn't support this right? She also didn't support him procrastinating on the couch about a job he could potentially be working, no matter how much she loves him.

His thoughts were blurring, he couldn't separate the right from the wrong. But should keeping order include breaking a man's spirit?

He struggled to look at Daniels. His uniform felt tighter, his boots too heavy, his baton a useless thing on the side.

Phillip got the chance to be on his own for some time after that, Officer Daniels went to the infirmary to get his hand looked at.

Phillip decided that he would go to check on Marcus. His feet moved on their own, drawn toward Marcus' cell, where the boy was slumped against the door, he could see it all clearly on the monitor. He was wiping blood from his nose on his white jumpsuit, that was something else Phillip thought was weird.

The harsh colour of white pressing against them everyday, their cells were white and the lights were on until ten-thirty at night, and everything they wore was white too. Even the halls they get a little break in were all white.

Phillip placed his hand on a system designed to let the prisoner know they were being called for while showing them the officer calling for them. He could see the shock on Marcus' face, this was obviously something rarely used.

"What do you want Officer?" Marcus asked, his eyes flashing something dangerous.

Phillip stood in the opened doorway, his hand shaking slightly as he held out a wet towel, "I thought you might need this." he said, his voice rough. It was a feeble gesture but it was all he could offer.

Marcus stared at him for a long moment, eyes cold and unreadable. He didn't take the towel. Instead he sneered, "What, you think wiping away the blood makes it all better?" His voice was low, tinged with bitterness. "You think you can just clean up a mess and everything goes back to normal?"

In a perfect world maybe.

Phillips stomach twisted. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was being the the good guy here, the one who did what was right. But Marcus... Marcus was just a criminal, not just a criminal though, he was a man, a man with his own thoughts and feelings and reasons that lead him down his path to being here. Doesn't mean it should just end.

Also doesn't mean that Phillip should just take his attitude laying down.

"You're still a prisoner Marcus. You belong here." Phillip said, though his voice lacked the same conviction that officer Daniels. He didn't like how easily the words came out of his mouth.

Marcus let out a short laugh. "Yeah I belong here," he spat, "But you—" he pointed at Phillip with a sneer. "You're just the same as the last guy, and the one before him. Stuck on some high horse thinking you're doing something noble." Phillip didn't like the way the words were making him feel, it felt like hands had come from the ground to try and submerge him below.

"Well let me tell you, you're just a puppet, now making a difference one bit, both in your life and in this system."

Phillip flinched, his grip on the towel tightening, "I'm just doing my job."

"Your job?" Marcus repeated, a dark edge to his voice. "Your job's to beat people already broken down. Seriously."

Phillip didn't know how to respond other than saying something like he hasn't partaken in it...'yet.'

He just let Marcus' words continue to sink in. Marcus's eyes softened, but there was a sadness in them that was starting to make Phillip think he may be a fool.

"You're no here, no paladin either. You're just doing the pigs dirty work."

Phillip's hand trembled, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. He wanted to argue, to prove Marcus wrong, if he did that then he wouldn't feel so bad. But why should he?

In the end Marcus and anyone not in an officer's uniform in this building was just some criminal getting their just desserts.

Yeah... That's right. Phillip hadn't chosen wrong, he just needed a reminder of where he stood.

He was right and they were wrong, if it were the other way round than maybe he would be in Marcus's shoes, or lack thereof.

He pulled the towel back and gave Marcus a cold stare and watched as the door closed then travelled back to the breakroom before he decided to continue his duty.