He sat on the bench, his back against the wall, feet firmly planted on the floor, hands folded on his lap. The cell was dark, spartan, the soft amber glow of his eyes the only source of light. 

It had been his home for 300 years, the length of his sentence. 

A century of extreme power hibernation and scavenging for power units had paid off. Wrongly sentenced to death, instead, his sentence had been served. Freedom was at hand.

As the door clicked open and he stood for the first time in a century, only one thing crossed his mind. 

Retribution.

~~~

There you have it, 100 words exactly. This is actually the backdrop to a longer story idea. I'd love to know what you think.