MoroHis cell was damp, dark and cold. The humidity soaked into his bones. Despite his incarceration, he rather enjoyed the feeling. As an assassin, he felt at home in the dark. The detention wing of the ship wasn't always dark, so he tried to make the best of the darkness when it came. Guards flipped on the lights as they made their rounds through the halls. None of them took their patrol seriously since he had been their only prisoner. They would drift in, flip the lights on, stroll down the hall, cast him a cursory glance, and flip the lights off on their way out.
Hours passed before he faded into the blackness of sleep. He didn't sleep long because soon the blackness faded into light, and the sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. Although he didn't know what time it was, he knew
