ALIENS AND JAILBREAK

The time was 2:15 am and Spencer was still awake, his mind racing with thoughts of revenge and escape. Meanwhile, snores could be heard from the other holding cells, a cacophony of nasal grunts and wheezes that filled the air.

Spencer rolled his eyes in disgust as Bill's snores got louder than ever, a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the cell. He lay down, forcing his eyes shut, and tried his best to ignore the hard mattress he lay on. The thin blanket provided little comfort, but he was determined to get some rest.

As he lay there, he began to count from 200 to one in Hungarian, a habit his mother had instilled in him as a child back in the rural village of Szilvásvárad, Hungary. The familiar rhythm of the numbers seemed to calm his mind, and he slowly started to drift off to sleep.

"Kétszáz, száz kilencvenkilenc, száz kilencvennyolc, száz kilencvenhét..." Spencer muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.