Thomas took a step into the cafeteria. It smelled of cheap fried food and old vegetables, a thick waft of scent permeating through the air. He already wasn’t hungry, but this sealed the deal that he should hold off on eating anything. Thomas knew he should introduce himself to his cellmate who was currently sitting alone at an aluminum table a few metres away, but he wasn’t sure how. I just have to sit down and introduce myself. We’re going to need to have a conversation soon anyways. It might as well be in a place surrounded by witnesses. Thomas very cautiously took a seat on the opposite side of the table. Despite being an above-average six foot seven, Thomas wasn’t a particularly large gentleman, and he couldn’t help but feel deeply intimidated in the presence of this human truck. He also couldn’t use Phantrana if things got ugly, in order to preserve his identity. “H-hello, Mr. Ivanov. How are you on this fine, um, prison, uh prison day? How’s prison?” Short and sweet. Nailed it, Thomas thought.

There was a long silence. Piotr was eating a sandwich full of wet vegetables Thomas didn’t recognize. There was also a bowl of peas next to him, along with a glass of very dusty-looking water. He finally swallowed with a loud gulp. “Who are you?” Piotr had a thick accent. One that was pretty close to Russian, but Thomas wouldn’t have guessed that since Russia didn’t technically exist anymore. His voice was deep and gravelly, harsh to Thomas’s ears but somewhat pleasant as well, like the crackling of a fireplace.

“I’m your new cellmate. My name’s Thomas Finn.”

“Thomas Finn. I feel like I’ve heard your name before.”

Suddenly, a few other prisoners walked over towards Thomas and Piotr’s table. Thomas could see a mean look in their eyes, and while Thomas could almost definitely take them considering his Civ and his stature, he didn’t want to risk any extra attention and he didn’t know how Piotr would respond to a confrontation. “You must be the new guy, Thomas, right?” the guy at the front said. All of them, including Thomas and Piotr, were wearing orange prison jumpsuits, except these guys had drawn various skulls and bones on theirs in what looked like marker. They were a wannabe punk gang. These guys seem basic as fuck. “Yeah, I’m Thomas. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, we just figured we’d tell you the rules of this place before you got too comfortable.” the leader, who sported a brightly coloured mohawk and a set of earrings that looked like they were made from the tabs of pop cans, stepped forward. “The first of which is that I’m the top dog around here,” he said, placing his right hand on the table while pointing to himself with his left. Both Thomas and Piotr let out a small chuckle in unison. “What? What’s so funny?” he asked. They both laughed again.

“Look, you seem nice but I’m not going to bow down to anybody here,” Thomas answered.

“What? Look, buddy, I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with.”

Suddenly a tiny object struck him in the side of the head as he spoke. It was travelling almost too fast for Thomas to notice, and it looked like it had streaks of electricity running across it, forming a trail. The man was sent flying backwards a handful of feet and onto the ground with a loud thud, attracting the attention of the rest of the cafeteria. Thomas looked over at Piotr. Did he? Did he throw that? he thought. Then, the man stood up, and Piotr let out another laugh, this time louder than ever.

The man looked completely different. His face had been almost rearranged. His nose was crooked, one eye was lower than the other. It was disgusting. While he certainly wasn’t Thomas’s type, he had at least looked like a person before. Now he looked like melting clay. As the man began to scream, Piotr stopped laughing, and his expression became dead-serious.

“Do not threaten Thomas Finn,” he said, returning to his sandwich.

Thomas looked at Piotr in abject horror. Is this his Civ? What was that? Despite the questions, Thomas had for Piotr, he felt relieved that he was at least on his side.

“Hey Piotr, was that your Civ?” Thomas asked, leaning in a little bit.

Piotr paused. “My Civ is not your business. You are my cellmate, and so I will protect you, but I have business I won’t share with just anybody.”

Thomas understood this. After all, so did he. But he wondered if Piotr could be his ticket out of here in one form or another, or at least somebody who could help him throughout his time in prison. And so he was determined to learn those secrets. “How do I become one of those people you can share business with? I heard you were involved in some gang-related stuff a while back.” Thomas leaned in a bit. “I know a bit about them. Maybe we can trade secrets?”

“This is not slumber party, Thomas. What respect will I have for secrets?” Piotr stood up, his silhouette overshadowing Thomas’s diminutive frame. “My respect is gained through action,” Piotr said, stepping away from the table and into the center of the cafeteria, the crowd clearing away as he stepped back and cracked his knuckles. “If you wish to gain my respect, you shall gain it through combat!” Piotr shouted, gesturing at Thomas to stand up and fight.

I thought I decided on not fighting the toughest guy to show I mean business? “Uh, that’s cool actually. I’m good, I’m comfortable with our relationship as simple ‘prison-friends.’ We don’t need to fight. Plus, I don’t have a Civ.”

“Then, I will not use mine. This is a test of valour and strength!” Piotr then flexed his massive arms aggressively. Thomas did not do that.

“Okay, man. We can tussle. That’s cool.” Thomas stood up. “This is a far more intense start to a friendship than I’m used to, but okay. I’m down.” Thomas put up his fists in a clearly unbalanced fighting stance as he walked up to Piotr. The other inmates had formed a makeshift ring around the two combatants as they gawked at the pair, and among the crowd were a set of guards yelling at each other.

“Best of three rounds. Whoever touches the edge of the ring loses. Begin,” Piotr said, immediately throwing the first blow, a right hook towards Thomas’s head. Piotr towered over Thomas, although this was partially a good thing. Against most people, Thomas was the clumsy giant, but here Thomas was able to dodge the attack nimbly. But Piotr didn’t stop there. He continued to throw jab after jab, slow attacks but chock full of power and precision. He was pressuring Thomas towards the edge of the crowd, attempting to force a loss without actually touching him. Thomas wasn’t going to let that happen. Piotr hadn’t fought in a while, probably because most people were too afraid to. Which is why Piotr’s stance was wide and clumsy. After Piotr went in for an attack, Thomas slid under Piotr’s legs and grabbed him in a chokehold from behind. Thomas knew he wasn’t going to overpower Piotr AND keep his Civ a secret. So as Thomas touched his foot to the ground, choking Piotr for a brief second, he strengthened it and sent the two of them flying off of the ground and into the crowd, with Piotr touching down first as the crowd parted in order to not be crushed.

“Did you use your Civ, Thomas?” Piotr asked, getting up from the ground as the two combatants reset their positions preparing for another fight.

“I told you, I don’t have a Civ.” Thomas realized that it was stupid to give himself away so quickly. Especially with guards watching, who for some reason were allowing this to continue, Thomas couldn’t use his Civ again.

Round two. Piotr knew Thomas would keep dodging over and over again until he could get an opening, so Piotr played defensively this round and waited for Thomas to strike. His true goal wasn’t even to win anyways. Piotr stood almost perfectly still, waiting for Thomas to attack, but he didn’t. Thomas just stood there as well, not sure if he should go in for a punch.

“Are you scared to attack me, Thomas? Go ahead,” Piotr taunted. And then in a whisper: “Use your Civ.”

How does he know I’m a Civ user? I thought I was pretty discreet with that push move. He also said he thought he knew my name. Who is this guy? Thomas thought. I know he’s baiting me, but I can’t take this. I have to end this without my Civ, Thomas thought. He faked out a punch with his left hand, before sending his foot flying into Piotr’s jaw with a high back kick. Piotr stumbled but didn’t falter. “I know that’s not all you’re capable of,” Piotr said, wiping the blood away from his mouth.

“What’s your deal, man? Are you into this or something?” Thomas yelled. He was starting to get angry at how obtuse this guy was being.

“That’s it. Get angry.” Piotr taunted. Thomas listened, against his better judgement, and felt his hand burn with purple energy as he sent an uppercut at blinding speed right into the underside of Piotr’s jaw. But it didn’t connect. Somehow, he had moved back with nimble quickness despite his size and grabbed Thomas’s hand. He saw its tint, and let him go. “You did well, Thomas. You’ve gained my respect.”

Suddenly, a group of guards grabbed Piotr’s arms and held them behind his back, barking orders at him and pushing him away from the group. They were taking him to solitary for the night. Thomas was spending the night alone in his cell. He had some time to mingle after Piotr had left and managed to procure a bit of Chorus from a dirty guard. He was determined to find out who Piotr was. He had suspected he was just some old guy with a thing for getting punched really hard, but that wasn’t very dramatic. He had a sip of the Chorus, downing the little amount he was given, and scoured his memories for Piotr Ivanov.