[center][h2][color=a2d39c]Aaron Yuuto Kasamatsu, Cell F-2B[/color][/h2][/center]
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			[i]Don't forget me, Aaron[/i], he heard her voice again - as crisp and clear as day it was. The feeling of her breath on his, cherry blossom, a flavor that euphoric smell and feeling of her that made him forget about all other troubles that could fester and boil into a man's brain. That was before she died, and now all he could be greeted to in the morning was a dead, monotone voice that struck him into consciousness like lightening striking a living, lush tree. It was all surreal for him, the basic concrete, the steel doors and most importantly, the set up of the room. Aaron was certainly no man of comforts by any chance, though to deal with such an uncomfortable setting would surly get the better of him. It was a dead room that seemed to be alive, his cell in F-2B. Aaron heard once that a truly free person is like a puppet who learns to loves his strings, prison life was the same, consisting of routine and discipline. If this [i]were[/i] to be his home, then he must learn find comfort in temporarily confided solitude if he could not truly say to have yet love this life of bars and concrete. Not to say anyone truly does. 

			Though this would have to be his life, as he would remind himself repeatedly, his new routine to substitute for the life of sin he had once lived and knew he was guilty of. Aaron could come to terms with this punishment, though criminality was the only life he truly ever quite knew and one could easily say that despite a criminal's vileness and life of criminality, someone has to make a living in this occupation. And who could truly blame a man for doing something he was good at? It was only a matter of time before it would all catch up to him as it did to most people, it's just a shame Aaron himself wasn't good enough himself, he admitted bitterly. All he could think about was how he was caught as he did in the courtroom, though he could not think about it no, he [i]shouldn't[/i] be thinking about it. This was no small flaw he could correct himself on, this was permanent and what was done, is done. Nothing to fix. [i]If only I were a better criminal.[/i] He lightheartedly thought to himself, chuckling quietly. [i]I would be sleeping in a motel room, waiting for another contract.[/i]

			Aaron lifted himself from his hard bed and let his feet rest on the hard, cold tile floor below him, it was the first time he had ever lifted himself from bed so laboriously. The smell of prison was like no other. It was the smell cleaning products that crept into a man's nose profusely as he remembered from his days from juvie. This was no cherry blossom, though admittedly was better than he had originally thought prison would be like. After the announcement, the buzzing lights flashed before Aaron's eyes in an almost blinding moment. It was as if he were living in a cave for years before suddenly being exposed to an alien light that most men could find comfort in. In an effort to cover his eyes, Aaron immediately attempted to slowly adjust to the illuminated world around him. [i]Well, isn't this a good morning...[/i] He thought to himself, as many other cellmates could be heard quite audibly complaining about the lights, though seemed to have complained like this before. That would have to be another thing he would have to get used to in his prison below the sea. 

			Aaron heard the sound of a man barking at what he assumed to be a guard, though was there after followed by the man screaming in agony and crashing onto the floor of his cell. For a moment, he did not really quite know whether to find that moment in his first day in prison as humorous or the fact that he should be scared. Aaron himself knew that he was not quite the aggressively loquacious type, for that is how he survived all of these years prior to getting pinched. In his days of being a convict, it was always the boastful who bit the barrel of a gun most often and very unlikely for someone like Aaron to be on the dumber end of a gun, that was until he was arrested of course. 

			The cold steel doors, buzzed once, twice, and finally three times before they gave way and opened for the prisoners to file out of their cages and line-up to eat breakfast that morning, another ritual that again Aaron would have to get used to. He walked, following the lead of everyone else who has ever been in this prison underneath the sea. The guards called for each file of men to walk when ordered to before making their laborious way to the mess hall. Already, Aaron could feel the cold unwelcome of the men that snickered among themselves and the dirty looks that followed from what Aaron could guess is how they treated new fish. Everything in this prison was so clean and organized, though the same could not be for the men. As Aaron and his fellow prisoners gathered in the mess hall their "food" before sitting. But where could Aaron sit? He could not simply sit alone since he would be targeted. No, he had to sit near someone and not stand out so obviously and be ready if the time were to come, defend himself. Though some part of his time told him not to worry, the prison itself was very disciplined and having been to Juvie himself, the only times fights broke was when usually both participates engaged in combat. Despite this, Aaron knew he had to think fast and sit somewhere where he could not be harassed. 

			Across from him sat a white man, he looked Slavic, about three or so inches taller than Aaron was. He gave a chance to look at him while the Slavic man wasn't looking and Aaron knew his type. The silent type, though not someone to mess with, he could tell by his looks alone that he could be quite menacing though there was something else about him that Aaron knew he should at some point be acquainted with him. Aaron was never the friendly type, though for the sake of surviving in prison, he knew he would have to take baby steps in order to hone himself as to not be completely defenseless. That's not to say that was his only intention for wanting to sit near him, he had a familiar look to him. A kind of man who had seen his fair share of hardship and turmoil, this man reminded Aaron of himself. After a while, Aaron walked towards his table and sat close, though not directly next to him, or in front of him either. Aaron had positioned himself on the other side of Vladimír, though a seat away from being directly in front of him and began to eat his "meal for the morning" and didn't say a word.