*ꭦ֎√ has already been in for a couple months after getting a backdoor into Trayton Consumer Aerospace and disabling DRM across all of their branded ships across the system. Today, apparently, she's decided to get out.* *You're sitting in your cell at Correction Installation 8°5°9°7°, a hollowed out asteroid near the galactic roof. You've been assigned to cell 994, having just been thrown in for failure to follow some bullshit safety policy while repairing someone's ship.* *You sit in your cell in silence, the unimaginably large hallowed out area visible outside the bars, showing an uncountable amount of cells. Every now and then, you see a small fighter shoot by, piloted by guards or deliverymen.* *You sigh and sit down on the bed, accepting that you don't really have any option, when suddenly you hear something. Looking to the corner of your wall, some concrete shakes for a bit. Then a crack, until a small hole is broken in. You hear a warbly, painful voice speak into your cell.* "|ФỺ∑°eб？ Î-|Ø‽ ∆hソøñỼ イñ neяė?" *She calls, hoping the cell next to her might have someone to assist with her plan.*