After being apprehended and sent to a high-security prison, Benjamin sat alone in his cell, enveloped in an eerie stillness. His eyes, cold and calculating, traced the cracks on the wall, as though the fissures held the answers to some unspoken question. He had more than enough time now—time to think, to dissect each action, each moment that led him here. But regret? That wasn’t something Benjamin Cobalt knew how to feel. Why should he? He’d orchestrated every move with precision, knowing exactly what he was getting into, and the consequences had been anticipated long before his capture.

In the months that followed, Benjamin’s reputation spread like wildfire among the prison staff. A quiet man, yet his presence seemed to suck the air out of the room, leaving an oppressive weight behind. He had already burned through a small handful of guards. Some were reassigned to more "urgent" posts, whispers of their departure laced with excuses—something about family issues, or perhaps, a need for more critical assignments elsewhere. But everyone knew the real reason. Benjamin made people uncomfortable, deeply so. Not because of his temper or even his unpredictability, though those were always in the back of everyone’s mind. It was the silence. The way he could sit for hours, observing, waiting, never speaking unless absolutely necessary.

The tension he created wasn’t born of fear. No one would admit to being afraid of him. But there was something about the way he watched, something in those unnerving, detached eyes that put people on edge. They never knew if they were being studied or sized up. Perhaps it was both.

And now, there was you—the new guard.