With nothing except for fingernails he kept clipped close to the quick, Viktor was not having much luck. Whoever was watching the cameras was probably finding the attempt amusing, especially since it involved balancing on the rim of the fold-out toilet. If there were multiple guards, they might be taking bets to see if he lost his balance and fell in. Not that there was much to fall into—the vacuum system sucked up all trace of matter, biological or otherwise. He had already dismissed the toilet as something that could be useful in an escape. It could not be heated up to trigger the smoke detectors stationed throughout the cellblock, but perhaps he could do something with the light. At the sound of footsteps, Viktor abandoned his project and hopped to the floor. He probably should be resting while he was incarcerated, since he had done little of that in the last month, but the idea of accepting his fate lying down grated at him. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for the owner of the footsteps to come into view—two owners, his ears told him.
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