Years Later...
Cage sits in his cell, reading. He is now bald with a goatee and a few more years under his belt. A guard stops by and hands him an envelope between the bars, "Carl Lucas... letter." Lucas sits up and takes the envelope, slipping the letter out of the small package to read. After a few moments, his expression turns to distress and then sadness. He drops the note to the floor and buries his head in his hands. The letter on the floor reads: "Mr. Lucas, We regret to inform you of the passing of your grandmother...".
At Empire State University, Burstein is busy in his lab which is filled with state-of-the-art technology. He looks through a microscope at a cluster of nanos moving under a slide. McIver approaches, "Dr. Burstein, how goes it?". Burstein turns away from his work and shakes his hand.
"I think we're finally there," he says excitedly, "Give us a few more days and we'll be ready for a test subject."
"Just what I needed to hear. I've been in contact with Seagate Prison recently. They are wanting to start a rehabilitation program, using volunteers for medical testing. I told them you might be interested."
"Yeah. That's great. Has anyone volunteered yet?"
"They said they'd let us know."
Later that night, at Seagate, the guards begin to shut off the lights in the cell block. "Lights out," one of them calls. Lucas remains sitting on his cot with his head hung low. Rackham passes by and stops when he notices Lucas' mood.
"Aw, now what do we got here? Don't tell me our old pal Carl is feeling down. Did they run out of your favorite food in the cafeteria?"
"Not today, 'Billy-Bob'. I'm not in the mood."
Albert leans in close to the bars, "Did forget your place all of a sudden? You've been in here for what... five years now? You still don't know how to behave?"
Lucas approaches the bars, "Hit the bricks, Rackham."
"Or maybe your momma didn't teach you manners?"
Lucas reaches his hand through the bars just enough to grab Rackham's tie then pulls him forward, slamming his face against the metal. Rackham falls onto his backside with a bloody nose. "You... You son of a...," Rackham can barely form a coherent sentence as he staggers to his feet. A few more guards approach, "Open his cell!," he shouts as he pulls out his baton, "We're teaching him some manners!". The other guards follow suit as they open Lucas' cell and rush inside.
The next day, Lucas stands in his cell. His eye is swollen, his lip is cut, and there's a large bruise on his cheek. His door opens and he's led out by two guards. They bring him down the length of a hallway while he wears handcuffs. Moments later, he arrives at the Warden's office. "Hello, Mr. Lucas. I'm Gerry Reynolds, the warden at Seagate," he shakes his hand, "Have a seat." Lucas takes a seat in front of the desk.
"First of all, I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother passing away."
"Thanks," Lucas gazes around the office but barely pays any attention to the warden.
"Secondly, our head guard, Albert Rackham, was out of line for what he did to you last night. You should know he's being suspended for his actions. Still, you should keep in mind you're up for parole. You don't want to screw that up do you?"
Lucas doesn't respond.
"Listen, the prison has a new rehabilitation program," he slides a contract across his desk along with a pen, "There's a proffessor from Empire State University doing medical experiments. It's a minor procedure from what I've heard. He just needs someone to run a few tests on. If you volunteered, we could get you on parole."
Lucas still does not respond.
"And if this is about Rackham, remember, he's suspended. So uh,... we can put all of this behind us, right?"
Lucas looks down at the contract.
"C'mon. It's easy parole. A few needles and you can kick your feet up in front of the TV. What do you say?"
Lucas shrugs, "Like I even care anymore," and signs the contract.