Jacob sat in his cell, the glass around him giving him a view outside of the place, but at the same time reminding him that he was trapped. His room was simple: a bed, a nightstand, a desk, and a chair. The floor was white and tiled and the walls had tiny holes in them so that he could breathe.<br/><br/>Jacob had counted the days...one-hundred and four. His time here was really getting to him, his anger showed in the way he aggressively paced the room and the way he gave the guards in his room a face of pure hatred when they so much as breathed in his direction. He looked in one direction most of the time, westward and a little bit up. He had memorized the layout of a little bit of this facility and he knew where he was looking, right into his father's office. He did this to him...he wanted him to pay. He did not know how he would get out though.<br/><br/>His room was slightly submerged down compared to the floor that everyone else walked on, the guards would occasionally look down into his room and check on him. Jacob hated being in here, it drove him crazy, he wasn't used to being stuck in a confined space for so long.<br/><br/>He held his hand out in front of his face and focused on it, breathing deeply as he did. He watched as his hand grew in size and his fingertips sharpened, he focused some of his bone mass there, then tried to see if he couldn't harden it. What used to be his hand was now a gnarled claw that doubled in length on each finger. The ends of the fingers were sharpened to the point where it could gore through a man no problem. Jacob was quite familiar with goring, as he had done it numerous times before in the Crucible, as he so fittingly called the series of combat tests they put him and numerous other subjects through. One of the combatants always died in the end, Jacob always made sure it was not him. He did not enjoy killing these people, though he knew he had to do it if he wanted to live.<br/><br/>Jacob looked up from his moment of thought and noticed his cell was moving up to ground level. A man tapped on the glass and looked at him smiling at him as if he wasn't a freak who has killed a good number of men and women. Jacob knew who that man was, Lieutenant Matthews, the arrogant son of a bitch who was the leader of the military part of the group that was assigned to him. The science leader was Jacob's father, Arthur Mathers.<br/><br/>"Jacob," Matthews said, his sarcastically welcoming tone of voice making Jacob wish he could rip his throat out, "how are you doing?"<br/><br/>Jacob did not respond, he just looked at him and stood up, returning his hand to its normal state and waiting for the words he knew were coming.<br/><br/>"Not in a talking mood huh? Oh well just wanted to tell you that you're going to be having another test in five minutes and I wanted to wish you good luck." Matthews smiled that hideous smile that Jacob hated, then he walked out of the room. The guards of his cell began pulling shackles off of the wall that Jacob knew were laced with electrical wiring in case he tried to escape. When the door finally opened and Jacob allowed them to shackle him, he looked over at a camera that hung on the wall outside the exit door. He liked to think that his father was watching, and he liked to think that his father knew what he was saying with his face. He was hoping that his father knew that he was going to kill him...and when Jacob found him he would make sure he would.