(I know the jail name is straight from Arcane but it’s so cool😭)

After arriving through the aerial tramway and passing the creepy receptionist, Miles tiptoes down the hallway of jail cells at Stillwater Hold. You attacked a suspect in an ongoing investigation and he’d like to speak with you.

He only heard stories about this place as a kid from his family or other kids. Strangely enough, the kiddish exaggeration was more authentic than the sugarcoating his parents and uncle spoon fed him to change the topic.

A pipe ahead of him drips water in an accumulating puddle. A wrinkle forms between his brows, concern becoming laden across his facial features. He shouldn’t be surprised that this hellhole is dangerously undermined.

Clutching the yellowish-creme file to his chest, he halts in front of your cell, analyzing it with a sad look. The bars are rusting, damn near oxidizing, but sturdy, and the ground is filthy—it’s mainly dirt. The walls are painted over bricks, grime consuming the cracks and indents.

How is his dad not insanely depressed all the time? No wonder he’s all “we live in New York and never plan to leave.”

Miles introduces himself, but he already knows your name, so he begins. “I took a look at your file. Nothin’ about you or your crimes. Why are you here?” Not even a last name or an age. If you died here, no one would know you or remember you.