The Neo-Metropol Heist

1: Edward

The cell was cold - tiled floor met tiled walls which rose up to meet a dirty tiled ceiling, which was decorated with long, artificial strip lights that burned the retina with a sickly white light.

Edward Helten sat slumped in the utilitarian metal chair, leaning on a creaking, tired table. In recent years, his posture had dramatically grown worse, turning him into an old man that hunched without realising.

He was barely into his sixties, but this, as well as his white, thin hair and pale, sallow skin betrayed him and made him look much older, as did the general tiredness that existed in his eyes, obvious whenever they were open.

Sat across from him was the lawyer that had been provided for him by the good folks at the Reformed North States Prison Service, he'd mentioned his name when they'd met not ten minutes ago, but Edward hadn't heard him.

The man was rotund, with neatly combed hair. He wore a too-tight suit in what must have been the trend, it was decorated with ridiculous neon light strips around the pockets and hems, and frustratingly pointless flourishes at the sleeves.

In the thirty-six years that Edward had been incarcerated, he had seen glimpses of fashion evolving in the outside world, all whilst he remained in the same red and black prison jumpsuit he had received on the day he was first walked into the grey brick building.

"Do you understand, Mr. Helten?" The lawyer's voice cut into his thoughts like a knife, causing Edward to glance up quickly, making it clear he hadn't been listening.

"Sorry, what?" Edward replied.

The man sighed. Edward didn't like him.

"I said, today is just a summary hearing. Your release has already been pre-approved by the parole board and the governor, taking your age and several other factors into account, they have decided to allow you to serve out your remaining six years outside of federal custody," the lawyer explained.

Edward felt nothing - he had spent as much time in federal custody as he had out of it. He had no urge to celebrate his release, no sudden need to jump for joy welling up from within, so he just nodded.

"I'm required to tell you that as part of this deal, if you commit any other of crime within the sentence already laid down, you will be sent back to prison and you will not get this chance again. Is that clear, Mr. Helten?" The man spoke to him as though he was a child.

Edward nodded again and the door to the cell - barely a rectangular sequence of thin black lines set into the mirrored wall when closed - opened, with a large patrol officer stepping through.

The officer wore the usual garb of the Neo Metropolitan Patrol Force, a dark navy jumpsuit with strategically placed white ceramic plates with a face mask that concealed his identity, only reflecting the surroundings in the deep black.

"Helten, you're up," the officer said, holding up a pair of metal wrist-binds.

Almost instinctively, Edward offered up his wrists. The officer placed them between each hand and the metal automatically snapped round and sealed tightly with a dull flash of light.

The officer led him out of the cell door, with the lawyer following close behind. They went through a small corridor which led to an open room, as white and as lifeless as the rest of the building.

It was set up like a courtroom. A semi-circle at the very front, populated by a generic panel of suits and business-dresses, with the table he was expected to sit at a few metres in front. Lines of seats were set up around this, looking over it.

The room was full - the release of the infamous Edward Helten must have been big news on the outside. Edward took no notice of the hushed whispers as he was directed to the table and made to sit down, with the fat little lawyer taking the seat next to him.