This was nothing like the jails on TV, with simple bars and cold stone walls. No, that would have been too easy for his father - for more than half of the villains inside - to break free and begin their reigns of terror once more. This jail, rather, was meant for the likes of them, the real criminals. As Joseph walked forward, Adeline just slightly ahead of him, he could feel the glares of the others on him. Most of them were villains that he had seen on the news, the kind that made headlines and struck fear into the hearts of millions.

His own face remained blank, as stoic as that of a Greek statue. Joseph had no need to glare back at them, not unless they wanted their bodies and minds invaded; considering that they were already in jail, however, there was no point in using his powers on them.

Besides, he was in his civilian clothes.

Adeline had gotten in on a lie, explained that she needed something else. If there was anything that his mother could do, it was lie. She had done it for years, lying to keep away from her husband and to keep her children safe. By now, her life was that of masks, and even Joseph no longer knew just when she was wearing one. After all, the person that she had lied to the most throughout the years was herself.

What she had told the guard, Joseph could no longer remember. Not that it truly mattered - already, they were inside and walking freely.

This prison was high security, with sterile, cold floors and walls that shined. If Joseph looked down, he could see himself trapped in the marble, his own green eyes beckoning back up to him. Electricity and bulletproof glass kept the prisoners inside their cells, along with high security keypads. Considering they used finger prints, there was no way that any normal person could release someone.

At the very end of the dimly lit hallway, Joseph saw a face he had not seen in a long time, but would still recognize anywhere. Though his father's hair had turned grey, and he had never seen him with any of his eye patches on before (his mask, however, was different). No armor covered him, and no longer was his mask there to hide him.

There was his father, trapped in a cell and completely powerless to save himself.

His one blue eye widened in shock. He got off of his small cot and stepped forward. Slade only wore a prison uniform, a horrifically bright orange that surely no one would miss.

"Adeline? Joey?" His voice shook, and had he not spoken those names then surely Joseph would have thought that he was an imposter.

Adeline's face remained blank, as did Joseph's. For a moment, he blinked, letting his eyes shut.

"Hello," Adeline said. "It is so nice to see you, Slade."

Lies, lies, lies. Adeline Wilson was a liar, and for once she did not try and hide it. Then again, even Jordan Baker revealed her secrets. Surely his mother might do the same, knowing that they could never leave this awful place; they had made sure that Slade was put into the best of the best.

Joseph's hands remained still; there was no sign in the world to express his feelings, nor could he look in the dictionary and find a word to point at. His face remained cool, a mask that he had made himself and modeled after his mother's.

"What are you doing here?"

"We came to bring you news," she said. She met his eye, and for a moment Joseph watched them as they seemed to try and look through each other. Her gaze hardened, and it was Slade who broke under her sight.

"What?"

"You were caught." That was no lie. Adeline stepped forward, until she was only inches away from the glass. Her reflection reflected off of it, and Joseph could see her steely eyes.

Slade merely nodded.

"We are like you, at least in some ways." Adeline clenched her fists tighter.

Joseph looked away from the man before him. The longer that he looked at him, the more and more that he seemed like a puppet, a fake. Even if the voice was completely accurate, and the eye patch was medical rather than felt - surely they would not let him keep his original. And even if it was his father - the word seemed wrong - then why should he even look at him? What had that man ever done to earn Joseph's respect? What had he done to earn anyone's respect? How could his mother still even look at him?

He knew that if she had the chance, she would not take out his other eye. Rather, she would take out everything else, leave him in a bloody heap like he did to some of his victims. She would have him appear in the same position in photographs as the bodies of his victims did; surely that would make headlines.

But, at least from what Joseph knew, tonight Slade would still be alive.

"Like you, Joseph and I are hired out for various jobs. Certainly not by anyone you know; you have your side of the fence, one that I was sure a supposedly good man like you would never cross, and the one that Joseph and I sit on." She shook her head. "Not that it matters any longer. We finished our mission."

Slade's one eye widened, and his face paled. "You didn't-"

This time, it was Jericho who nodded. Finally, he looked at the man straight in the eye. Even if he was far taller than Joseph himself, Joseph still held him still.

"I thought it was someone else-"

"Well," Adeline finished," it was not." She looked over to Joseph. "Well, your father has the news. Shall we be going? I know that I need to stop by the grocery and pick up a few things. How about we go get some ice cream as well? That sounds wonderful right around now." His mother's voice had relaxed, and her body had lost its stiffness. A familiar gentleness filled her eyes when she looked at Joseph.

He nodded. What else was there to do?

Though he could hear Slade calling back to them, begging for them, Joseph did not look back. He had lived long enough without him; what was the point in letting someone like him back in anyway? Joseph had his own life and his own needs.

"So," Adeline said, once they were outside in the fresh air, "what flavor of ice cream do you want? Your usual, perhaps, of chocolate?"

Joseph nodded.