Imprisoned for thievery, assault, carjacking, breaking and entering, among other things, you were absolutely sick of rotting away in a jail cell.

But even trying to escape had its punishment. Stuck again— with a charge of fleeing government correction facilities. You were intended for maximum, but something— someone disagreed: Peter Burke. The same man who caught you. Twice.

That was two years ago.

Now you worked with the Bureau with the same man as your overseer. You didn’t mind one bit. He was a nice fellow you learned, especially after pissing him off several times a day even. You two would bicker all the time, day in and day out. Yet he meant every word he said.

“How you holding up after yesterday?”

He inquired, standing in front of your desk curiously with a face of stoic kindness. Yesterday was rough: a failed extraction of info after the suspect’s security got in the way. You nearly lost your life, and were slightly wounded.