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A blackish-gray smoke seeps in through this new quarter inch hole in the wall. It billows around the floor, then twists and swirls into the fully-formed figure of Sulfur. She hovers near the far wall.

With that, the outer guard slides his own keycard into the lock sensor. The iron bars slam back shut, locking the inner guard inside the cell with the prisoner.

Inside the cell, dressed in prison grays, the Wax-Man is slumped lifelessly over a small metal desk, next to a cot and toilet that consumes the remainder of the tiny room.

They both pause, taking in a long look at the man inside the next cell.

No less reassured, the second guard nods back anyhow. The first guard just shakes his head in disappointment.

While the first guard carries himself in an aggressively calm manner, his partner is clearly a bit nervous – constantly checking and re-checking the tightness of the mask that supplies filtered air into his lungs.

Two correctional officers, in full riot gear, walk the long row of cell blocks, diligently verifying each inmate’s presence as they pass. Because McGovern houses phenomenally worse prisoners than the ordinary correctional facility, the guards dress for the part. In addition to armored riot gear, they are also equipped with self contained breathing apparatus including

A ceiling projector beams a 200+ inch visual onto a silver-black wall. Sitting in the center of the room, sunk into oversized beanbags, are Jamie and JaVon. They are both engrossed in their virtual football game, tapping away madly on their controllers, and obviously to Michael’s entrance until he speaks up.

Inside the kitchen, Vic stands at the sink, casually slicing up some vegetables.

Wearing a light sweatshirt and sweatpants, with a big duffle bag swung over his shoulder, Michael Triplett heads up the sidewalk of the affluent Morningside Heights neighborhood, stopping at the bottom step of a brownstone apartment.