"Mr Thinner, the Head requests your presence in his office," announced a stout, balding man dressed in a sharp uniform. Brian Thinner looked up from reading the electronic newspaper and sighed heavily, placing it quietly on the wooden table beside him.

Without a word he stood up, his bulky form causing the rickety chair to groan in relief. His shiny, black boots thudded dully on the concrete floor as the guard led him through the empty hallway to the Prison Head's office. Their footsteps echoed as a singular sound, resonating from the metallic walls. Brian Thinner, although it was difficult to tell from his polished exterior, was nervous.

He'd visited the prison many times before, usually entrusted with the supervision of a prisoner or two, but had not yet encountered a chance sighting with the Head of the Prison. Since receiving the call for a requested meeting with Quinton Jane barely two hours ago, Brian's co-workers had made it blatantly obvious that this man resembled something short of a callous bull, as gossip had entailed. Brian Thinner usually disregarded any notion of rumours, thinking himself to be above taking part in such a trivial activity, but he couldn't forget the way his partner, Ven Roash, had described how Quinton Jane had supposedly thrown a man out of his office window as punishment for conversing politely with a prisoner.

The guard he had been following abruptly turned down a short corridor and Brian's surroundings changed dramatically. Instead of the cold grey cement he'd been previously walking on, a soft, plush carpet wrapped with intricate designs, padded his footsteps. The walls, Brian noticed, were painted with a warm red and photographs taken of random beaches hung along the span of the plaster. He was surprised at these personal touches and found his insides bubbling with hope that Quinton Jane was not actually a psychotic, putrid man.

As he stood, inspecting the photographs, the guard in front of him was busy punching in the code to open the door to the Head's office. A small number pad locked onto the door, where the handle would usually be found, flashed neon green, drawing Brian's attention.

"Password accepted, please enter." A distinguished electronic voice echoed over head, synchronizing together with the wooden door as it swung open. The stout guard stepped aside, nodding to Brian before stalking off. Brian's nerves were rigid with anticipation and he stood, frozen in the doorway.

Slowly, shaking off any fear that clung to him, he took a step forward, his black boot sinking in the carpet. As he entered the room, his eyes widened. It represented a follow up of the short corridor he had just been standing in. The walls were the same vibrant red and fishing poles, surfboards, and heads of sharks decorated every corner and spare space.

"Good afternoon, Mr Thinner." Brian Thinner spun around, gaining a crick in the neck, at the voice. There, standing behind a large wooden desk, was a very small man. His height seemed cowardly when compared to Brian's and he found that such a dark, rich voice should not come from a man of his stature.

Clearing his throat, when he caught himself staring, he nodded. "Good afternoon, Mr Jane. It's very nice to meet you, finally." Brian winced inwardly, knowing that he had been dreading this moment, yet the lie rolled off his tongue easily. The small man smiled at him, a straight row of pearly whites peeping out from beneath his top lip. Quinton Jane gestured to the armchair in front of the desk and sat down in his own respective seat.

"Thank you." Brian settled in the comfortable chair and watched, almost nervously, as the Head of the Prison shuffled around some papers on his desk, tidying up the surface.

"I'm not sure whether I've made my intentions for this meeting clear. Do you know why I've brought you here, Mr Thinner?"

"I've formed a relative idea." Brian answered truthfully. The recent break out at the Prison had caused chaos within the Werrabee Police Force; the hunt for the elusive prisoner employing the use of every single available officer. For the past twenty-four hours, Brian Thinner had been extremely busy supervising a large team of investigators, experts and WS (Werrabee Security) officials in order to track down the escaped man, whilst also making time to give professional statements to the media.

Quinton Jane nodded, "Good, good. Now, allow me to further explain the situation." Quinton Jane settled in his chair, propping his clasped hands on the hard wooden desk in front of him. Looking seriously at the man seated in front of him, he begun to explain:

"As you're probably aware, this isn't the first time we've experienced a break out. Fortunately, I wasn't alive during the last time, but the Head Predecessor of the Prison left a complete file on the case. The day we accepted Ashyver Solomon I used every single precaution that was previously taken with Cieren Murphy and even more so in addition to these basics. On my orders he was buried eight feet beneath the ground within a square room of metre thick cement walls, coated twice with afal—a defence that repels fire, and locked away with our most intense security. A minimum of three guards were stationed around his prison twenty-four hours. I had security cameras, each heat resistant, implanted within the ceiling of the cell, so we had complete internal visual at all times.

'Ashyver, himself, was bound by zions to restrict him from performing any action that may have assisted him in escaping, binding his ability with fire. His daily meals, which he received three times a day as required, were delivered through a mini elevator descending from the ceiling, leaving no opening for him to use this as a means of getaway." The small man sighed deeply, almost regretfully. "By all means he should still be sitting in that miserable little cell."

Brian nodded in agreement, yet he still found himself wary of what this man wanted with him. If Ashyver Solomon could escape through one meter thick walls, past three commendably trained guards and out of one of the most heavily restricted prisons in the Solar System, what could he contribute, besides his influence with the investigation? As the Second in Command to the Chief of Jupiter's Police Force, he knew it was his job to search for criminals and punish them by law, but he felt rather insignificant when compared to the complicated situation at hand. Mr Jane seemed to sense his confusion and he managed a tight smile.

"I know you're wondering where you come into this hectic little state of affairs-" Brian Thinner wryly thought that the circumstances were far from little, "-but if you'll just be a bit more patient with me, I shall inform you very soon." Brian nodded again, signalling for Quinton Jane to continue. Mr Jane unclasped his hands and leaned over in his chair, reaching for the brass handle on the top drawer of his desk. His suit jacket puckered around his middle, reminding the stout little man that he should not have indulged in the Christmas Care Package his sister had sent him and to ring his Health Doctor as soon as possible.

The drawer opened quietly and Mr Jane lifted out a thin manila folder with the bold lettering "Strictly Confidential" stamped across the front. He dropped the folder onto the smooth, polished surface of his wooden desk and slid it across to the Sergeant, who stopped the folder from flying onto the floor with a touch of his large hand. Mr Jane closed the drawer, settling himself back into his chair, and subtly undoing the two buttons of his jacket to relieve the pressure suddenly constricting against his upper torso.

Brian Thinner spun the folder around slowly so that it was facing him directly. He looked up at the Head of Prison, his face openly curious and questioning. Quinton Jane returned with a small smile and said, "In there you will find all the information we have about Ashyver Solomon. No doubt it will only be a repeat of what you have already read from your own files, but, please, do entertain me all the same."

The Sergeant waited for the Head of Prison to continue but Quinton Jane only offered a still pause with the same miserable smile. Confused, Brian Thinner gripped the corner of the manila folder and lifted the cover open, expecting to be rewarded with a list of superior knowledge concerning the escaped prisoner. The Police Office barely had anything on this Prisoner, there seemed to be no record of the mysterious offender. So as the cover flapped open, hitting the desk's surface with a light slap, his eyebrows shot up in surprise at the contents of the file—a single sheet of paper.

Again he looked up at the Head of the Prison.

"There is nothing else?" enquired Brian, somewhat despairingly. He had been, against his better judgement, hoping that Quinton Jane was concealing an entire cloakroom devoted to every little inch of information that the Prison had collected on Solomon. But any fleeting reminiscence of the idea fled from his mind to hide behind the looming shadows of severe doubt when the man sitting behind the desk did not answer and only looked to the folder, his face stoic and blank.

Brian Thinner dropped his gaze back to the sheet of paper. What could he possibly discover on this page that he did not already know? He still did not understand, even as he picked up the sheet, holding it closer to his face.

It was professionally detailed, a similar format to the file the Police Office kept on Solomon in their Profile Department. His eyes scanned over the typed face, and the same facts he had read before continued to flow superfluously down the page.

Quinton Jane was watching the Sergeant closely, acknowledging the impatience that his face reserved. His ears rungs with the cold silence that had settled between them and the occasional snap from the sheet, as Brian Thinner shifted his grip on the page, echoed resoundingly around the large office. Quinton twiddled his thumbs. He, too, was growing slightly impatient.

Suddenly the air changed. Brian Thinner's shoulders straightened and he peeled his back from the comfort of the chair, rigid with interest. He read it twice, just to make sure, before snapping his head up to meet Quinton Jane's eyes.

"I see," said Brian still clutching the sheet in his grasp. Quinton Jane watched as the man in front of him fidgeted with the paper, but did not settle back into the chair.

"I understand you've found something uninformed to your knowledge?" asked Quinton Jane, to which Brian nodded sharply. There was a twitch beginning just beneath Brian Thinner's right eye and it pulsed with an angry beat. "Now that you are able to recognize the entirety of the situation—"

The twitch peaked, quickening.

"—I legally invite you to witness the breakout of one of the most dangerous convicted criminals Werribee High Security Prison has ever held."