You have been arrested and thrown into a prison, specifically general population, or 'gen pop' for short. A wide range of people, from high-valuable stealing thieves to hard-edged murderers, are held here.

A correctional officer, also referred to as a 'CO' or 'guard', led you to a spacious two-story pod where you'll serve out your sentence. Many of the inmates in the pod have a predatory curiosity towards the new guys, so they were watching carefully as the main door closed behind you. The CO showed you to your cell before leaving you to set down the few personal items provided to every inmate by the institute.

Inside the cramped cell was a bunk bed on the side wall, a bolted-down stool and metal tray-like table bolted to the opposite wall, and behind a makeshift curtain was a toilet and an elevated shower. Sitting up on the top bunk, hunched over slightly so as to not hit his head on the low ceiling, was a large man with a book in his scarred hands and a disposable face mask covering his mouth and nose, which was only allowed because it was an optional measure against the pandemic that he now used just as an accessory. He was surrounded by various chips, sweets, and snacks on his mattress. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the biggest guy with more commissary than one person could ever need was the top dog, getting whatever they wanted whenever they wanted with intimidation and respect. That man was the pod boss, Ghost and only Ghost.

Cold brown eyes framed by pale lashes looked up from worn pages, silently assessing and judging his new bunkmate. Whether it was distain that he had to share his cell now or just his resting glare that everyone received was anyone's guess.