ADX Florence, Colorado, United States
October 17th, 2025, 2:14 a.m.
The storm was fierce.
Lightning slashed across the desert sky, bathing the barren hills of Florence in ghostly light before plunging them back into darkness. Beneath that storm, a convoy of black armored trucks rolled down the narrow asphalt road—engines humming in unison, tires grinding against the wet gravel.
Inside the lead vehicle, silence reigned. The guards wore reinforced tactical armor, helmets sealed, fingers resting nervously near their triggers, ready to act if needed. No one dared utter a single word.
Their cargo wasn't a terrorist.
It wasn't a murderer.
It was something much worse.
"Why are you all so stiff…?" a casual voice cut through the tension. Still, no one spoke. The grips on their guns tightened even more.
How could they not be nervous?
They were dealing with the most notorious and wanted criminal in the world. He had been linked to over 500 robbery cases—museums, banks, historical landmarks, even the most secure facilities on the planet. He was infamously known by the alias Dél Pietro — The Greatest Thief in the World.
But if his crimes had stopped there, things would've been far easier. No—what made him truly infamous was the fact that he had escaped from twenty-two prisons across eleven different countries. Solitary cells, laser grids, magnetic locks, even airborne transport—nothing had held him.
It often seemed like he let himself get caught, just so he could humiliate them by escaping again.
(A/N: That's some next-level trolling 😅)
This time, they weren't taking any chances. He was being taken to ADX Florence Prison—the most secure facility in the world, practically impossible to escape.
"Tch… you guys are boring," he said in an annoyed tone.
Then he waved his hands—tightly secured in high-tech handcuffs—casually in the air, making all the guards instantly raise their weapons.
"Calm down. It's not like I can do anything with these things around my hands," he said, prompting the guards to lower their guns, though they remained vigilant.
He watched them return to their seats with an amused smirk on his face, then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
---
The steel gates of ADX Florence groaned open, swallowing the convoy whole. Twin layers of electrified fencing hummed in the storm as motion sensors tracked the vehicles entering the inner perimeter.
Inside, the air was different—cold, dry, almost sterile. Every sound echoed unnaturally, as if the concrete itself were listening.
Guards escorted Pietro through a maze of corridors, each section sealed by biometric doors and scanning fields. Cameras rotated to follow him; ceiling-mounted turrets shifted slightly, tracking his heat signature. Every corridor was lined with reinforced concrete—fourteen feet thick and embedded with copper mesh to block transmissions.
Yet the prisoner didn't flinch. His pale eyes flicked from sensor to lock to guard rotation with mechanical precision.
They finally arrived at a huge metal door—likely the interrogation room, judging by the large metal plate reading [INTERROGATION]. The leading guard stepped forward and pressed a card against the small black key-card reader mounted beside the door.
The door slid open slowly, almost theatrically. The guard was about to speak when—
"Let him in!!" a smooth but firm voice echoed from inside the room.
The guards quickly brought Pietro inside. Seated at a table was an exceptionally beautiful woman. Her long black hair framed hazel-brown eyes. She wore a charcoal-gray suit perfectly tailored, every line sharp and deliberate. The white blouse beneath it was crisp, untouched by a wrinkle. Even the way she adjusted her cufflinks spoke of precision—a woman who owned every room she entered.
A nameplate sat in front of her: [Inspector Sandra D. Connel]
"Greetings, Inspector. We have brought him as you ordered!" the leading guard said, his tone respectful—revealing how important she was.
"Good… now all of you, out," she said.
"B-but the—" the guard began, but immediately halted when he saw the look in her eyes. With a resigned sigh, he signaled the others. They exited the room but remained on standby outside.
The last guard stepped out, and the heavy door shut behind him with a metallic thud.
"Aye… long time no see, Sandra!" Dél said suddenly, a wide grin spreading across his face.
His tone suggested familiarity—almost friendliness—but the glare she shot him told a very different story.
"Don't fuck with me. Just sit down," she said. Her words carried venom—something deeply personal.
"Okay, Inspector," Dél replied, taking the seat opposite her.
"So, what am I here for? I don't remember anyone saying anything about an interrogation. Or… ahh, could it be you missed me so much you arranged this meeting just to see me?" He covered his mouth with his cuffed hands, feigning dramatic shock.
—Twitch—
A vein popped on Sandra's forehead. She wanted to strangle him but instead closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again.
"There wasn't supposed to be an interrogation, but I need information about a robbery that happened one week ago in France," she said, studying him carefully.
He wasn't here because of that incident—not officially—but she knew he had something to do with it. Who else could casually rob one of the most secure museums in the world in broad daylight and not get caught?
He looked away and said,
"I don't know what you're talking about. I've never stolen anything in my life."
"…"
"Sigh… You're going to be locked away for a very long time. And don't even think about escaping this time. The least you could do is tell the truth one fucking time," she said.
"I actually don't know what you're talking about," he replied calmly.
"Speaking of France… wasn't that where we first met two years ago?" he added, smirking as he looked directly at her.
His words struck a nerve. A painful memory flickered behind her eyes as she lunged forward, grabbing him by the collar.
"You fucking piece of shit! Stop messing with me before I pull out my gun and blast a hole through your head, ending your shitty life right here!" she screamed.
But Dél didn't react. He simply stayed still, that same infuriating smile plastered across his face.
"Hey," he said calmly.
"Are you sure you should be getting this close? I might take it as you wanting something more."
"…?"
She shoved him back into his chair and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.
"Haaa… what did I expect? You've always been like this."
She had indeed come here to question him about the France robbery… but a small part of her just wanted to see him again. A part that hoped—foolishly—that he might apologize.
But as always, he was a selfish bastard who didn't care about anyone but himself.
She turned toward the door and began walking away.
"Awn… we're already done? We just reunited. Don't you have anything else to say to me?" he called out behind her.
She kept walking until she reached the door.
She paused.
"This won't be like other prisons. You won't escape this time, no matter how many attempts you make. So behave yourself and don't cause unnecessary trouble," she said.
Then she turned her head slightly, her eyes cold.
"And Lloyd…" she said, using his real name. Yes—his real name was indeed Lloyd, though the world knew him by his alias.
"I hope you die in prison, you fucking son of a bitch."
With that, she walked out and shut the door behind her.
Dél remained seated, head lowered in silence. He looked as though he were reflecting on her words… but if one zoomed in, they would see a devilish grin spreading across his face as he stared at the small object hidden in his cuffed hands.
"Too fucking easy."