He sat on the edge of his cot that clung against the concrete wall of his cell and stared off into his cell block. Staring was mostly all he did these days, considering he didn't really know what day of the week it was. Was it Monday? Saturday? Wednesday? He never knows, not that it ever mattered.
People thought that with all the spare time Zoo had on his hands that he would be doing something more productive; such as thinking about random things. But he didn't. He did, but he stopped after his first month in here as there wasn't anything else to ponder over.
He already knew what his father would say about his current situation right now, he already knew that Sam died because of his inaction to stop Yuka, he knew why he was in the slammer in the first place. It had been a long time coming, he admitted to himself one day. He guessed saying that he had done nothing would be lying because he had been doing things to spend his time.
The first few months in prison, he spent it in the High Security ward where a camera was always pointed towards him in his cell behind three layers of steel doors- three chances for an attempted escape if he ever took any. The cameras always stared back at him as he, in turn, stared at the walls. Even when he slept, ate, or took a piss. Then for some odd reason even he hadn't quite figured out yet, he was transferred to the Low Security ward.
There was no doors on any of the cells. The gaping door frames only went out into a big common area with concrete tables and showers in the back corner. There he did his daily duties of cleaning every inch of the place until it sparkled. It never lasted, though, as none of the other inmates seemed to take their duties as seriously as he took them. He didn't care, though. As long as he stayed out of their way he wouldn't find himself in any trouble. Although, he is pretty sure the others tend to avoid him knowing who he was: Zoo, the assassin of the Syndicate. The animal tattoos inked all over his skin said enough.
Sometimes when the Watch officers did their hourly guard rotation of the main doors did he ever heard anything valuable. The officers in here appeared more lively than the stone-cold robots of the ones that patrolled the District. It was yesterday when he was scrubbing the dirt off the floors near the main door did he eavesdrop on two Watch officers chatting with each other.
"What are they even doing these days? It's like they are doing nothing except sitting on their ass all day," one of the two officers complained as they leaned against the frame of the door with his back turned.
"You can't say that about all of them, though," the other chimed in, "The mayor's assistant has been seen multiple times going to bars and clubs and not coming back until morning- blacked out." He chuckled at his remark. "Nice to know where our tax dollars are going."
"She hasn't been seen in a few days, though. She hasn't been back at any of her usual locations in quite some time. I heard from someone that she is always spotted coming and going from the Senturion."
"Wasn't that where that Sam Farrow guy used to live? He's dead isn't he?"
"Must be claiming a dead man's turf for herself."
The two chuckle at that.
"Or is she using it as a hideout? To do something without a certain government spying on her."
"Are you saying she is going to try something with Syndicate again?"
"They are all dead, remember? We cleaned them up real good."
"Not all of them..."
At that the two officers slowly glanced over their shoulders at Zoo who still kneeled on the floor, scrubbing imaginary dirt.
YOU ARE READING
Neon District: Redux
Science FictionPrevious cover art credits: (Same person.) Instagram: vintaqe_tea Wattpad: xEikox Current cover art credits: Me. "Why do we all work so hard just to grovel at their feet?" In 2042, Japan's Neon District is infamous for its vast industrial and cybern...