# Evolution: Jailbreak (Action)



## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

_It's never enough, I can never give them what they want._

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Imagine, for a moment, you are a bird, soaring high on thermals, gliding through the air with lazy flaps of your wings. The countryside rolls past beneath you, people, towns, villages, everything is reduced to toy size under your gaze. The land begins to rise, gentle, rolling valleys giving way to foothills, each higher than the next till the land breaks into mountains, each dusted with snow. Each a pinnacle of natures unconquerable heights. Then, a blot against the landscape, a dark smudge that slowly resolves itself into a building, a fortress rising from the mountain as though some buried god has thrust his sword upwards.

Imagine, you are in a cage..._

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Footsteps, echoing down the hallway, it was one of those corridors where every sound is magnified a thousand times as it travels the length of the plain undecorated concrete. Three years, thirty-six months, one thousand and ninety five days. He'd counted. Nathaniel Marks had been imprisoned in this blank cold prison for the last three years, he didn't intend to allow it to last much longer. He was in his cell, a blank grey room five by ten metres. In the corner there was a dull steel toilet bowl and sink, at the other side of the room was a steel framed bed, bolted to the floor, with one shapeless pillow and a thin, scratchy blanket. He'd made it, the sheet folded and creased perfectly. There was nothing else in the room. It was bare, soulless. That's what the facility did, they took you and squeezed every drop of spirit out of you. He'd seen those who'd succumbed, they let themselves be led around like sheep, flinched when the guards turned. But Nathaniel hadn't, he'd been waiting.

He'd befriended the guards, he'd always been charming, always able to wrap people round his finger, this had simply been a matter of keeping them friendly, gradually building a relationship with them. It had been slow work but eventually he had gained, if not the trust then at least the wary acceptance of one or two. It was more than enough for what he needed.

There was the swish of a card, and a beep as his cell door opened. He looked up from the bed, seeing two bulky shapes obscuring the light from the blank white corridor. He smiled, it was friendly, and you'd have to be looking for it to spot the vicious meaning behind that smile. He knew these two, there were a regular eight patrol guards for this block, they were the high risk or high value prisoners. With another twenty on instant alert should there be an alarm, they were armed with night sticks and tasers, but they never left the holsters on their belts and he doubted if the overweight, good natured guards even knew how to use them properly.

"Come on then, you have an appointment with the doc."

It was a regular thing, the procedure all the prisoners of the facility had to undergo once every six months. He'd been counting since they'd last refilled the collar around his neck, and he was ready this time. For the first two years they'd always refilled a day before this, he assumed it was a day before it was due to run out, now that they'd come later he hoped that it meant they came only when they had to. He'd always been docile and obedient, letting them believe he was broken. Now they would see just how dangerous he truly was.

It was always the same doctor, he was short, overweight, and stunk of cigarette smoke. His pudgy fingers were stained yellow and he had an annoying tendency to clear his throat regularly. He was responsible for ensuring the prisoners were always kept suppressed, their powers useless and non-responsive and he was a lazy bastard. As the door slid shut behind him Nathaniel groaned.

"Awwww come on, not again, you know I'm dying for a cigarette. Go on doc, just this once, you at least owe it to me."

He looked as though he was about to grumble, but shrugged, there were two guards in the room and there was no way Nathaniel could do anything anyway.

"Go on then Nathan, only cause it's you, that advice about my accounts paid off so I figure I do owe you one."

He tapped in a code, disabling the rooms safety system, including the camera in the corner of the room. The light on the smoke alarm blinked out and he handed Nathaniel a cigarette lighting it for him while he prepared the chair for the procedure. Strictly speaking he should have simply sedated Nathaniel, and he certainly shouldn't have let the guards remove his cuffs. As soon as they were off Nathaniel turned to sit in the chair, but instead plunged the lit cigarette into the guards eye. He sunk his knee into the doctors flabby stomach and pulled the night stick from the guards belt, cracking it across the second guards head. The other staggered back screaming until a blow knocked him out cold.

The doctor, gasping for breath on the floor, whimpered when the scowling Nathaniel pulled him up and pushed him onto the chair, pressing the truncheon across the mans throat, applying a gentle pressure. His eyes were cold, all the previous good humour fled in the face of a wave of cold, ruthless efficiency.

"Take it off."

The man whimpered and shook his head. Nathaniel scowled and leant forward onto the truncheon.

"Now."

He whimpered again and nodded as much as he could, reaching forward hesitantly with one hand to press his thumb against the collar. There was a brief buzz, then a click, and the metal collar came free, falling into the mans lap. Nathaniel winced at the sting as the needle at the back of his neck automatically disengaged, but grinned at the sight of the collar.

"Finally."

He pushed the trembling lard tub back into the chair, locking his arms and legs into place with the restraints. The man begged and pleaded, he had a family, kids, he would give him anything he wanted. It turned from pleading to threats, did he have any idea what would happen when he got caught? Eventually the pudgy bastard fell silent, though not from choice, more because Nathaniel gagged him with his own tie.

He helped himself to one of the guards boots, methodically crushing the windpipes of both men. They fit, but the clothes were way off and putting them on would serve no purpose, he stayed in the jumpsuit then took a final look around the room. He finally found what he was looking for, a cabinet with trays of surgical tools. Selecting a monomolecular blade he turned back to the now struggling doctor.

He was about to put the blade to the mans thumb when he felt a rush in his head, he swayed a little, but felt his powers returning, free of the regular dose of the suppressant his system returned to normal, he could feel the mans thoughts now, filled with the fear of the knife. He grinned, and pressed down.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He left the room, wrapping the severed digit in a small medical cloth. After the loss of his thumb the man had barely been able to resist the rummaging through his mind, access codes, protocols and directions all pouring from his mind into Nathaniel's.

It was child's play to make it to the control centre. With his powers returned he was able to avoid the one patrol he came across and the men in the control room itself, lazy and complacent, didn't sound the alarm until it was already too late. Using the dead doctors card and thumbprint to enter the control room he tasered the two men on duty before pulling up a chair and beginning to type.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, the doctors knowledge giving him access to the system he was after, the prisoner suppression systems. All through the prison doors buzzed and slid open. Collars clicked and fell from necks and the inmates took their first steps towards freedom...

All: What has life been like for you in Ragnarok, you will have socialised a little with the other inmates, have you risen or sunk, were you violent and brutal or did you just try not to be noticed?

The first feelings when the collar comes off are surprise, then elation, then trepidation, is this real or is it simply another trick of Chimera? However, when you see the other inmates begin to pile out of their cells and attack the few guards you are faced with a choice. Do you join in, stay back, or fight to save them?

Darwin: You're in isolation, one of a few high value or high risk inmates within the prison. You know Mentem by sight and by reputation, and you're pretty sure that if this is a jailbreak, he's behind it somehow. When your collar falls free you take a moment before going into the corridor. It's empty, but something stinks of death and as you round the corner you find two dead guards, their bodies partially ash and the walls behind them crumbling and black. An orange suited metahuman turns to you, a snarl on his face and energy glowing around his fingers. The grimace quickly fades into a grin at the sight of your own jumpsuit. He takes a step forward, offering his hand.

"Kane. Joshua Kane. Now I dunno about you but I've been in here long enough, and as far as I'm concerned the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

How are you going to react to that. Neither of the guards were Charles, but you knew both, one was a sadistic, arrogant bully who probably deserved what he got, but the other was married with three kids. It's unlikely either knew what was really going on here. The meta is obviously dangerous, are you going to risk a fight?


----------



## Romero's Own (Apr 10, 2012)

James woke with a start. He opened his eyes wide and looked around the room from his bunk. Not seeing anything of interest he yawned before swinging his legs around and sitting up on his bed.

The cell stunk of despair and human waste. And wasted human, he couldn’t help thinking, because beneath the stench and the imposing bars across his door lay the taint of death, like a stain that can’t be shifted. James wasn’t the first to call the cell home, and he wouldn’t be the last.

He rubbed a bare arm across his nose, and then across his eyes because they were blurred and he couldn’t see properly. Then he shut them all together and leant backwards against the stone wall. He wanted to be a hundred miles away, but what choice did he have? Anyway, the hideous weight of the collar on his neck couldn’t be ignored. James hated to be in a cage, trapped and helpless; he always had, like he knew he would have an appointment with one he didn’t want to keep.

Finally summoning the strength to start the day James opened his eyes and stepped from his bunk. Padding softly across the cell in bare feet James crouched as he pulled on his heavy black boots, tying the laces slowly, the sedatives pumping through his body slowing his movements and fogging his mind. Slowly rising again James took a deep breath and moved across to the cracked and stained sink that stood in the corner of his cell. 

Turning the tap the spout gurgled before choking out brown gunge that splattered across the basin. Turning the tap again, more forcefully this time, water spluttered out and trickled down to the plughole. Plunging his hands into the unsteady stream James splashed the water across his face and sighed. 

James was just drying himself off with a grubby towel when suddenly his heart leapt. James fell to his knees and gasped for air. His hand reached to his chest and felt his heartbeat; it felt fast, too fast. James staggered to his feet and took an unsteady step towards the door. But again he fell down, this time fully to the ground. Pain flashed as his head contacted with the hard floor of his cell. He groaned and rolled onto his back, his will to go on vanished. But then a metallic clang brought his senses rushing back.

The collar that had encased James’ neck for so long fell away and clattered onto the floor. James breathed deeply, disbelieving that the sign of imprisonment was gone. But after a few seconds of pain as his heart beat at its limit his body caught up and recovered from the shock, brought on by the sudden withdrawal of sedatives being pumped into his bloodstream. Feeling more normal again James rose to his feet and, after steadying himself, upon the wall, made his way towards the solid door that trapped him within the small and bare cell.

James reached for the handle just as, with a loud clanking of multiple locks undoing, the door swung open. James just stood in disbelief. He looked up in shock as a guard, standing just outside his door, turned in shock at the sight of a free prisoner. The guard opened his mouth to shout but a roaring ball of flame caught him in the chest and the shout turned into a cry of pain as he was thrown down the corridor. James slowly stepped out into the corridor and saw a tall man with flaming red hair standing at the door of the cell beside James’ own, his arms still raised and a smile playing across his face, he too had no collar upon his neck. He nodded at James before turning and lobbing another fireball down the corridor. 

James looked down the corridor and saw doors all along the corridor swinging open and former prisoners stepping out with looks of disbelief on their face. 

Suddenly James’ concentration was shattered by a screaming alarm bell that echoed down the corridor. The sound of booted feet running down the corridor brought James back to his senses. A smile crept onto the teenager’s face, something that he hadn’t done since he was first imprisoned. 

He turned and ran towards the approaching footsteps. As he turned the corner he phased out, the power coming back to him like it was never gone. Seeing the group of prison guard’s ahead he lowered his shoulder and hit the first man head on, his shoulder connecting with the man’s chest with a thud. The force and the surprise combined sent the man sprawling backwards.

The guard’s drew to an abrupt halt and started swinging backward and forth, attempting to hit the enemy they couldn't see. James phased back into sight behind them and delivered a crunching kick into one of the men that sent the flying forwards, causing havoc amongst the group. James laughed and turned, running down the corridor again, phasing once more into nothing.


----------



## Midge913 (Oct 21, 2010)

Eyes firmly closed, the depressing ten by ten room that was his home pushed from his thoughts, Darwin sat, back pressed against the fine lattice of steel and fiberglass that comprised his inner cell. Behind his closed lids pulsed colors and textures as his mind relived Tchaikovsky’s sixth symphony. Every note clear in his mind, each stanza as vivid and moving as it had been the first time Charles had played it for him ten years ago. Each harmonic blending calling forth deep seated feelings that he tried to keep buried, fear and joy, loathing and desire all swirling in the fore of his mind pulsing with the tempo of the sound.

This was his life now, remembered melodies, recalled verses from poets and wordsmiths, surfacing images of the master painters all stolen from books and manuscripts or the small device Charles had called an I-pod. All of these small things occupied his time and his mind for the past decade and a half. He would have been lost without the tidbits of the outside world Charles had provided him with. The only way he was able to deal with the isolation that he was forced into was to retreat into his mind. 

Behind the pulsing color brought on by the melody in his mind, a flashing image, a picture perfect face that he did not recognize. Despite his inability to forget, every time he tried to focus on the visage it melted away, back behind a fog that clouded a single corner of his thoughts. It fled behind an impenetrable wall that he had deduced hid the memories of his past. They were memories that he both feared and longed to find, memories that would tell him exactly who he was, where he had been, and where he needed to go if he ever got out of this place. 

The symphony ended, the mighty crescendo of sound and emotion coming to a close and bringing his thoughts back to the moment, banishing him back to a world of bars and guards and drugs and torture. Here in this cell, which he had not left for three long years, he lived in his own personal hell on earth. If it had not been for Charles he would have lost his mind. The other guards, despite the fact that they were mostly amiable, still looked at him as though he were a monster, a rabid dog that could and would attach at any moment. To them he was less than human, a freak, an aberration that deserved to be locked away under the pretense of protecting the world. 

Focusing back on reality, his piercing gaze turning once more on the single entrance to his small cubicle, the distance between it and the door to the outer cell a mere five feet, but it may as well have been miles away. He had never traversed that distance, save for the day that he had arrived in the Ragnarok facility, and if Chimera had its way, he would never tread the void, the empty space that surrounded his small habitat. The isolation he had endured since coming to this hellish place had weighed on his soul, pressed upon his consciousness like a heavy blanket. The renewed experiments and torturous procedures, his worst nightmares from the Fens, his previous place of incarceration, seemed like pleasant daydreams. Once more the sullen depression that had pervaded his thoughts set in. Over steepled fingers, his startlingly green eyes locked on the only avenue of egress, as if by thought alone he could force the heavy electronic lock to open and set him free. 

Such was the depth of his concentration that the resounding click of the very same lock springing open moments later almost caused him to jump out of his skin in surprise. The steel composite mesh door swung upon of its own accord and Darwin was on his feet moving before its swing reached its apex. Poised, toes teasing the line between the floor of his cubicle and the open space surrounding it, the distance to the exterior wall now suddenly much smaller, Darwin could not force himself to take the fateful step across the threshold. He was convinced that this must be some sort of trick, the possibility of it being anything but the latest in a series of cruelties at the hands of his captors a thought he refused to consider. It was a notion he would not even entertain for he knew that to do so would be to invite hope into his heart, a hope that would destroy him should it prove false. 

Darwin had finally convinced himself that his eyes were playing with him, he refused to even reach out towards the opening that had suddenly appeared, knowing it to be nothing more than an illusion, a phantasmal image conjured by his min to meet his deepest desire. He was certain that it was too good to be true and began to turn back into his cell when a sharp pain in the back of his neck drew a hissing gasp across gritted teeth. With a metallic click the collar that had adorned his neck for almost 17 years fell to the floor with a reverberating clang and Darwin froze. Motionless he stared at the mark of his imprisonment afraid to move, afraid to disturb the tableau in which he stood. 

Bending slowly certain that at any moment reality would replace the dream he had suddenly come into, he gingerly took the silver collar up with trembling fingers. As he raised the infernal contraption to his eyes a smile ghosted across his lips as the fog of the drugs lifted from his mind and he found himself once more in motion. Without a second thought he crossed the five foot gap and pushed on the door that led into the hallway beyond. Finding it unlocked he took a deep breath and pushed the door open. 

Noise assailed his ears, shouting, clanging, and banging overwhelming his senses unused to such things. This prison break, which is the only thing that explained the current situation, had to be Mentem’s doing. He was the only Meta capable of orchestrating theses events. Unfortunately Darwin was forced to push speculation from his mind; more immediate issues required his attention. As the stench of burning flesh clawed at his nostrils and compelled him to turn; Darwin found himself facing a meta, pulsing energy playing over his splayed fingers, who was standing over the half burned bodes of two of the guards assigned to the high security wing. For a moment his heart jumped into his throat, fearing that Charles had met his death at the hands of the sadistic killer that stood over the bodies. He came nearer, trepidation slowing his steps. With a heavy sigh of relief he found that neither one of the dead guards was Charles, but that he did know them both. One, the older of the two, had gotten what he deserved in Darwin’s opinion. He was a cruel, sadistic man that enjoyed inflicting pain and punishment. The other, a young man, too young to deal with the nature of his task, a father to three children Darwin knew that he doted on, did not deserve to have died the way he did. Sadness, grief, and anger coursed through him and he turned his gaze to the Meta who stood over his victims, relishing his work. The Meta’s initially offensive stance relaxed as he took in Darwin’s jump suit. The man had an air of a wild animal, but his leering sneer slowly broke into a demented smile as he approached Darwin, the nimbus of power draining away as he stretched out his hand in greeting and friendship from which Darwin almost recoiled. 

“Kane, Joshua Kane,” the man said as Darwin reluctantly took his hand. “Now I dunno about you, but I have been in here long enough and as far as I’m concerned the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Darwin nodded. Despite the fact that he hated what Kane had done, he recognized the fact that if he was to escape from this prison, he was going to need help. Someone with the offensive capabilities that Kane seemed to possess would be useful, especially since Darwin didn’t know whether or not he had active control over his own abilities. Staring down at the dead guards, trying to seem them as anything but the remains of the living and breathing humans they had been moments ago. Darwin took a deep breath and locked his gaze on the Kane. “Perhaps Mr. Kane, but if we are to work together, from here on out, no killing. Disable, maim if you must, but no killing. I don’t need that on my conscience and it draws needless attention to us.” Darwin’s gaze fell once more on the scarred visage of the younger guard, a plan flashing though his mind. “I have a way to get us out of here, but you are going to need to trust me.” He finished, his fist curling closed, ready to leap out at Kane in an attempt to over power him should his response be unfavorable. 

“Needless attention?” Kane scoffed, “You got head problems man? We are in the middle of a breakout in the most secure prison in the world. What plan you got that don’t involve removing the obstacles?” Kane waved towards the bodies of the guards with such a casual disregard for them that Darwin fought the urge to strangle the man. The demented glint in Kane’s spoke the excitement he felt at dealing death and sowing chaos. Despite the madness that dominated Kane’s fervent gaze, Darwin could tell that his proclamation against further killing had the man’s attention. 

Praying his abilities would work and that his understanding of them was correct, he knelt down next to the dead guard, Kane’s eyes following his movements. Reaching out with a hand he had to concentrate to keep steady, he placed the tips of his index and middle fingers in the center of the dead man’s forehead and by some strange instinct let his mind go blank, his only thought the appearance of the man he was in contact with. Slowly he felt it, a strange sensation rippling up his spine and pulsing outward through his entire body. Holding out his free hand he watched in amazement as the bone structure changed and the flesh rippled across it, changing from his pale white to the tanned complexion of the guard below him. He could tell that it had worked as he raised his gaze to Kane and found the man, mouth agape, looking back and forth between Darwin and the dead guard.

“Quick,” Darwin barked in Kane’s direction, the tone and timbre of his mutated voice catching him slightly by surprise. “Help me get him into my cell, his companion too. I will take his clothes and equipment and in the confusion I will walk us right out of the front door.”

Kane’s face lit up, a child like glee overtaking his strange demeanor, as he took the legs of the guard that Darwin had begun to drag into his cell. Darwin couldn’t help but stare at the man, wondering how on earth this man had ended up with the power that he had. Had God really deemed this demented man suitable for the greatness he had inherited? Surely not, surely it was some accident of evolution. A detrimental event that had escaped that higher powers notice. Kane spoke, his harsh voice barking in laughter, “That is genius! You sure they’ll fall for that though? You can look like a guard, but I still look like a prisoner. “

Dropping the first body, they returned to the hallway for the second. It was gruesome work, Darwin, sucking in air through nostrils filled with the horrid stench of the death and char. Kane, looking at him expectantly, desiring the answer to his question, but obviously willing to wait until Darwin was ready to give it to him. He seemed so child like, so innocent despite the killer that lurked inside and Darwin was determined not to be lulled into a false sense of security by his placid demeanor. With a grunt Darwin let go of the second body, its weight falling heavily next to the first, and he quickly went about inspecting the clothing and equipment the men wore. He found, to his relief, that between to the two guards he would be able to acquire a full set of clothing and equipment. 

As he began to pull off his prisoner’s jump suit and don the guard clothing he finally answered Kane, “Well, they must be trying to corral the prisoners in a certain area right?” The rhetorical question drew a nod of agreement from his companion. “We will head in the general direction of the front doors and see what happens. Hopefully the guards will be too busy to pay much attention to another guard handling a secured prisoner. I will use some of these plastic cuffs to secure you for appearances,” Darwin said, holding up the item to show Kane. “You should be able to melt them off in a hurry if we encounter heavy resistance to our planned departure. Just keep quite and let me do the talking. I will let you know if things hit the fan and I decide we need to fight our way out.” 

Straightening the last of his disguise, Darwin turned to Kane as the man nodded rapidly, taking in the entirety of Darwin’s plan. Thankfully, despite the fact that Kane was completely unhinged, Darwin could tell that he was taking things seriously. Clearly Kane was no fool and knew that he stood a better chance trying things Darwin’s way than he did trying to burn his way out. Kane made Darwin uncomfortable. Put him on edge. There was no doubt in Darwin’s mind that he would need to part company with the man at the earliest possible opportunity. 

“Ok, ok,” Kane agreed. “But what do we do then? Do you know where we are?
Shaking his head Darwin tightened the plastic cuffs around Kane’s wrists, “There is only one way to find out where we are and what our next steps should be…. Come on let’s get moving.”

Taking Kane by the arm, he began to lead the man down the hallway, hoping he would be able to navigate his way out of this labyrinth before their ruse was detected or worse yet, his companion turned on him.


----------



## Malochai (May 27, 2012)

Isaac was curled up, atop the cot in the corner of his spartan cell. Voices filtered through to him from the corridor, but he blocked it out, digging himself further into the corner. Bruises covered his arms, interspersed amongst the myriad, self inflicted scratches, which he’d given himself in his angered, lonely despair. The stench of humanity was all consuming, attacking his senses, and no matter how much he tried, the oppressive feel of the walls surrounding him couldn’t be ignored; the stale air pumped repeatedly through the weak, intermittent air conditioning system was no substitute for the fresh, lively air he’d grown to know and love. A growl, low and deep, erupted from his throat into the cell, and outside the hubbub paused for a second, before starting again, interspersed with the laughs of free men. 

Not long after, Isaac’s stomach gurgled, alerting him to it’s irritated emptiness, and caused him to raise his head and look at the door. Half-feral eyes shone out of a hair framed by lank, dirty hair, his pale face appearing slightly luminescent and grubby. The voices outside his cell had faded some time ago, but suddenly a loud, booming shout erupted; Isaac’s eyes closed to slits, and his mouth curled into a snarl. That voice was eminently rememberable, it held a bad memory for the British Meta. Keeping a studious, anxious eye on the cell door, his mind flitted back to the first week of his incarceration.

_He’d been there for three days, terrified and curled up in his cell, when his door was banged on by what sounded like a nightstick. “Pattinson, out, now!” 
The voice was deep and clearly irritated, so when he didn’t immediately react, the door burst open. “I said, ‘Pattinson, out_ now_!’ Is that difficult to understand? Are you dense?” With a disgusted glance at Isaac, he grabbed him by the neck of his clothes, grabbing onto the collar as he did so, and hefted him off the cot. “Move, dolt!”

Stumbling, Isaac found himself in the corridor with a group of other Metas, surrounded by a number of guards, some who looked like menacing thugs, slapping their nightsticks onto flabby, meaty hands, whilst some of the others looked sympathetic to the plight of the prisoners, if not entirely comfortable to be in their presence. The guard who’d pulled him from the cell shoved him to the centre of the group, and without a word moved on, leading the cohort into a large, canteen-like room, made of concrete and completely devoid of soul and_ life_. 

He’d stayed quiet and demure, trying to disappear into a corner, but one of the large prisoners, with ‘Prisoner #92304’ on the left hand breast of his overalls, had stood over him, blocking out the light of the eye-achingly bright, artificial halogen light strips attached to the ceiling. “You’re new,” he grunted, a vicious glint in his eye, veins and thick, knotted muscles bulging beneath the collar around his neck. “You’re dead.” This last whispered threat was backed up by the fact that three of his compatriots, nearly as large and just as rough looking as the first, joined him. Without a word passing between them, boots started to descend on him, fists thundering against his lean body. An alarm sounded almost instantly, and guards rushed from their positions lining the walls, bringing the nightsticks they wielded crashing against the skulls of Isaac’s attackers. Within seconds, the assault was over, but Isaac was howling with pain; a thick, animalistic sound that belied him human appearance. His eyes were wild, blood dribbling from his lips, and when the guards approached him he lashed out as best he could with so many fractured bones - he felt them grating whenever he moved. One of the guards waited whilst the others all snarled about just putting him down like an animal, sitting their quietly with a concerned look in his eyes._ 

The Meta shook his head and returned to the present in his cell, and a small sigh escaped his mind - once again he had hoped, as he had so many times, that this living nightmare would just turn out the be a dream; an incredibly detailed, drawn out, horrible dream, maybe, but a dream all the same. _‘How can I keep on kidding myself?’_ he asked himself; after three months, he should have abandoned his hopes, but the thought of maybe once more seeing the trees, waving merrily in a brisk breeze, which blowed upon his face, refreshing and clean. 

A noise came from the corridor beyond his cell door and Isaac realised what had drawn him back to his cell from the abhorrent memories of Ragnarok. Howls of jubilation and screams of terror echoed in the confined space, and despite knowing he shouldn’t, Isaac crawled off of his bed and shuffled slowly, an inch at a time, closer to the door, listening carefully. The sounds drew closer and closer, and eventually they were up and down the entire corridor; a thick barrier he knew he had no way of penetrating - in his more desperate moment, a month into his imprisonment, he’d scrabbled at the door, gouging tiny scratched into it and breaking off his nails, leaving bloodied stumps that had to be bandaged carefully and hurt like nothing else he’d felt; even his beating hadn’t been as painful. 

A loud _snick_ from inside the cell made the twenty-five year old to jump, and it took him a second to realise that the pressure around his neck, a constant companion for the past three months, had vanished, and the cool metal had fallen to the floor. Almost immediately, he felt better; less drowsy and more ... _human_. He leaned his head from side to side, cracking it and sighing. _‘It’s been too long since I could do that properly,’_ he said, smiling, when he felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck. Reaching an inquisitive hand around, he felt the sharp metal of the needle which constantly pumped drugs through his system; clearly it had snapped when the collar had released, the pressure of gravity pulling it straight down and leaving the point left in his flesh. Grimacing slightly, he dug it out, a small globule of slick blood pasted over his fingers. 

Without being constantly topped up, his system quickly flushed the power-sedating drug from his body and by the time his door swung open smoothly, he felt more like himself, although still slightly weaker than normal and desperate for fresh air. _‘And this might be my last chance,’_ he realised. Stepping out into the hall, he looked around at the ensuing carnage. Fighting had broken out between some of the Metas and their guards, whilst others were just running - which was exactly what Isaac was considering doing until he saw the source of the loud voice; his attacker, locked in a fight with one of the guards. His eyes narrowed to slits and he instantly changed his mind. With an odd mix of grace and clumsiness, he ran down the hall, dodging guards nightsticks and the various weapons the Meta’s had managed to clobber together, and leapt onto the thug-like prisoners’ back. With a hiss, Isaac dug his nails into his victims neck, until blood starting pumping. With a vicious smile, Isaac grasped the back of the prisoners head and his chin, before twisting sharply and letting the body fall to the ground and convulsing. A sharp pain erupted in the back of his leg and he turned to see the guard, slumped against the wall, holding his nightstick weakly. Snarling, hands covered in blood, Isaac leaned over him, before coming down from his rage slightly when realising who it was - the guard who’d sat with him. Leaning in close, so his face was less than an inch away from the guards. “You get this one. Cross me again, you die like him,” he whispered in gravelly tones, gesturing at the spasming thug on the floor. With that, he spun about and ran down the corridor, soon losing himself in the maze-like prison, looking for an exit, and escape.


----------



## High_Seraph (Aug 28, 2009)

Sitting in the middle of the cell with his knees brought up and his arms around them and his head down Current's eyes were the glassy, distant kind were someone was lost in memories.
_________________________________________________________________

Running on the treadmill Current was lost in thoughts that were themselves easily lost thanks to the drugs that constantly flowed through his system thanks to the uncomfortable iron collar around his neck courtesy of the Chimera Corporation. Stopping the exercise he walks over to a fountain to get a drink though as he nears the fountain Current hears someone say, *"Fucking Meta's, why in the world are we testing these freaks? They have unnatural abilities that give them a god complex but with the drugs in'em they are docile."* Turning his gaze towards him Current he sees a reedy looking guard with a superior expression on his face he changes his direction heading for the guard now. Careful to appear too drugged he gets within arm distance as the man says, *"Hey back the fuck off ya mu-"* as his right fist comes up and connects with the guard's now squashed nose. Following up with a left Current us instead hit on the side of his head by the guard's partner who continues to beat him before he falls to the ground. bruised and battered Current hears the one who beat him say, *"See what you get for talking like that around this idiot? In any case he's off to solitary again after a quick visit to the Doc to refill his collar and make sure nothings broke in him."* current looks up to s3ee the reedy guard's booted foot come crashing into his face before blacking out.

_________________________________________________________________________

Hearing a loud click stirs Current from his memories as he picks his head up and looks straight at the door waiting for it to open and him to receive a "lesson" from those two thugs that "guard the meta's. Pondering why they haven't stepped in yet Current feels a weight tumble down his back. Thinking that they somehow got behind him Current freaks out and stumbles forward before turning and finding no one else in his solitary cell. Eyes wide from fear Current notices an iron collar on the floor before tentatively reaching up with his left hand to check his neck. Hearing the door pop open Current waits for the ineveitable guards to pour through wanting to apprehand the "escapee". Feeling his mind clear from the drugs Current looks around smiling as he feels the currents of electricity flow around his aforearms and hands before heading to the door and wrenching it open. Stepping into the hallway he sees orange suited meta's attacking guards andguards attacking those same meta's. Shaking his head at not seeing the most recent of guards to attack him he starts fighting in the are helping one meta byrunning up to the side of a guard and grabbing his shoulder sending volts through him to knock him out before grabbing his nightstick and crushing his throat with it. _"Names Current. I think it's time we got out of here, how 'bout you?"_, he says to the other Meta before holding out his left hand shorting out the remains of his attack.


----------



## Angel of Blood (Aug 18, 2010)

The day shift alarm sounded and the lights flickered in my cell flickered on, signalling the start of a new day within Ragnarok. I rolled over on my hard, comfortless and irritatingly warm bed. They always made damn sure the heating was on in my cell. They knew exactly how much I hated it.

Pricks.

I scratched a new line onto the wall of my cell, increasing the ongoing tally I had started nine hundred and forty-eight days ago. Well, I assumed it had been that long anyway, that's what the tally said, but who knew if the day and night phases of the prison even followed a twenty-four hour time frame. Perhaps it had been longer, maybe even shorter. 

Who knew. 

Who gave a shit. 

As far as I was concerned that's how long I had been trapped here. Long enough to ensure that everyone connected to this place absolutely had to die a delicately slow and agonising death. 

It had been over six hundred days since I had spoken to, or even seen another one of the inmates. That's the funny thing about solitary confinement. It's lonely.

They'd first put me in here only thirty days after I was first unceremoniously thrown into this cesspit. Courtesy of a rather enjoyable assault of a guard, resulting in a pleasantly shattered wrist. He got off lightly in retrospect. They only kept me in solitary for seven days back then, hilariously assuming that would 'lighten my mood'. Another inmate who made a remark about my ass soon ended up on the med wing and I back in solitary. 

We played this game for almost a year. Well, I thought of it as a game, they didn't seem to share my sentiment, they called it 'violent misconduct'.

Over dramatic pricks.

Sadly they eventually decided to put a stop to our game when I sent one of them on sick leave. Permanently. To the morgue. I've been here ever side. Personally I think they over reacted.

I'm not sure how long it took them to realise I actually preferred solitary, but by the time they did I imagine they realised it was much less hassle to just leave me here and forget about me. The most interaction I got these days was my daily meals being crammed through the rather inadequately sized slot in the door. I must remember to thank the designer of the door for that one day, I always did prefer my food slightly squashed and flattened. 

The one downside to this obviously five star accommodation was the rather alarming state my hair was getting to. They'd neglected to send me a hairdresser after my permanent residency status was approved within solitary. Can't fathom why they didn't approve of the idea of someone near me with scissors… In any case it was now a long, tangled dirty blonde mess. I had never really cared that much about my appearance, but there are still some things a girl just likes being kept in order.

Overcautious pricks. Did I mention they're all pricks? 

Anyway, I digress. 

I got up to do my morning routine. As far as routines go, it's nothing extravagant. Get out of what can only loosely be described as a bed. Wash myself as best as possible with the staggeringly below mediocre facilities and then begin my morning stretches and workout. 

My cell may be beyond small, but a true gymnast never needs much room to practice their art form. 

Just as I turned away from the hard, featureless sink though, the most curious and surprising thing to happen during my entire imprisonment happened. My collar fell off.

It took me a few moments to fully register what had happened. A sudden feeling of weightlessness took hold of me as the weight of the collar vanished, along with a peculiar feeling of loss. 

As if this unprecedented event wasn't enough, moments later the door to my cell slid open, exposing the bland, empty, yet inviting corridor outside. 

As I took a step towards the door, I felt a cold liquid like feeling slowly spread from the nape of my neck and through my body. I shuddered in recognition and connection, letting out a slow breath, immediately noting my now cold breath condensing in the warm air. My powers were returning. 

Stepping cautiously out into the corridor I first began to hear the sounds of violence and pandemonium from distant floors and corridors. Some of the other prisoners in the corridor had already exited their cells and were menacingly converging on the lone guard who had the unfortunate luck of being here as we were released. 

He was slowly backing away from them, careful to keep his eyes on them the whole time. He was not however, looking behind. With one final step backwards he bumped into me. Spinning around he gave one look of mingled shock and fear as his eyes locked onto my cold glacial orbs. 

I cocked my head to one side, as if studying a display or painting. Then before the guard could so much as raise a hand, my own shot forwards and grasped his neck in an iron grip, the skin of my hand already coated in a thin layer of ice, the ability coming back to me as if it was only yesterday since I had last used my powers. 

Slowly. Irrevocably. Gleefully. I crushed his wind pipe, simultaneously freezing it along with his blood supply. All the man could do was look at me in horror, his eyes still pleadingly locked to mine. I relished watching the life in him vanish, it had been far too long since I had last killed. 

Dispassionately I threw him to the ground before moving to follow the other inmates as they ran to try and find a way to escape, pausing only to look down at the dead guard. His eyes still frozen with that same look.

"Prick"


----------



## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

There was a click in the darkness of the cell.

I sat huddled against the wall, legs tucked up to my chest and long black hair hanging over my eyes. I hated that cell, trapped between the stone walls. Trapped in the darkness. They had taken away the light bulbs after I smashed one and stuck a guard in the leg with one of the shards. I smiled in the darkness. The pig had tried to rape me and had learned his lesson. I smiled again, remembering him shrieking with pain and the blood gushing from the wound in his leg. It was only a pity the facility had a half decent doctor. I wished the pig would die. Of all the guards who had tended me in my time imprisoned, he was the only one who took the knocks and came back thinking that this time I would let him defile me. I shuddered thinking about it. And then the smile came again. Who knew, maybe I’d got lucky and the pig was dead.

I chuckled in the darkness.

Lucky?

If I was lucky I wouldn’t have got stuck in there in the first place.

Then the collar fell from my neck.

I stared at it in stunned surprise for a few moments. It was immediately followed by the cell door being shoved open and an inmate stepping in, lust in his eyes.

“I always thought you were a sexy bitch girl,” he said lustfully. “But there were always guards around.”

He stepped forward and began to unzip his orange uniform. “But now you’re mine girl.” I shrank backwards, my mind racing. I couldn’t risk using my power yet, I had to know what his was. But if I left it too late then he’d rape me. I tried to back into a corner but a wall of stone erupted from the floor. A second erupted right beside me, trapping me for him to come and have his pleasure. “Come on baby,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Don’t play hard to get.”

Then I straightened and smiled and he halted. “What you smiling at?” He asked suspiciously.

Then the collar lying on the floor behind him rose up, latched around his neck and pumped its last dose of power drain into his body. He gasped and I raised a hand, blasting him backwards and pinning him to the wall. “You earth types are almost as cocky as pyrokines,” I said conversationally as he tried to wrench himself away from the wall. He tried, and failed.

I stepped closer.

“Let me tell you something you piece of shit. I will not be used. I will not be threatened. And I most definitely will not be raped.” And with the last word I yanked him down face first onto the floor where he lay dazed. I stepped out of my cell, ignoring the carnage in the area outside. I pulled the cell door shut behind me and reached inside its mechanisms with my gift. I reached for the locks and, with a smile, I sealed the door. The corridor outside was carnage. Spikes of rock had erupted everywhere, impaling guards and inmates alike. It seemed the would-be rapist was powerful indeed. With a great deal of effort I reached back inside the room with my mind, felt blindly and when I finally reached him, pushing himself up onto his feet, I lifted his head and slammed it off the floor several times, knocking him unconscious for sure.

I moved into another corridor and saw inmates mobbing the hapless guards. I saw fire and ice sweep the corridor. I stepped in front of a guard, a married man with children who had always done his best to be kind to me and reached out towards the spike of ice approaching him. With a great deal of difficulty I stopped its motion completely. I felt its motion transfer to me, slamming me back into the wall but I would not give. I moved forward slowly, putting one foot in front of the other. I slowly rotated the spike in the air to face the horrified man who had sent it in the first place.

With a cry of relief, I released the shard.

It flew straight and true and pinned the man to the wall. The pyrokine was too shocked to speak. I ripped the ice shard free and turned it to him and he ran.

“Run,” I said to the guard, my body shaking with exhaustion gained after I had first stopped the ice. I let go of it and felt it drop to the floor. “Just go.” Too shocked to speak, he turned and fled. I looked down the corridor, the dead men and women. Some deserving of it, some not. But all dead whether they had deserved it or not. What horror had been unleashed on the world I wondered, forgetting for a moment that I was part of it...


----------



## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

_It's quiet in here, when they aren't here, the only noise my own breath. At least there aren't any screams._

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

_But the cage is not impenetrable, it begins to buckle as it's occupant struggles against it's bindings. The bars begin to strain, twisting and bending under the increased pressure, but nonetheless, the cage holds fast, containing it's prisoners with all the indomitable strength it always has._

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

_So, chaos reigns._

Nathaniel smiled, watching the carnage unfold on the screens as the inmates tore the guards apart, in some cases literally. Some inmates were enacting their revenge on their oppressors, one or two were defending them, many simply turned and ran, desperate to find their way out of the place that had been their prison. The screen flickered, then blanked, an override message blinking on the screen. He bared his teeth in anger, but he knew it would only have been a matter of time. This was only one control room, and he wasn't surprised that the central control room had managed to override him, only that it had taken them so long.

He'd seen all he needed to though, a fraction of a second before the screen had went blank, he'd seen a guard leading an inmate away from the high-risk area. A useful inmate, using the keycard, he opened the cabinet beside the door. His footsteps receded down the corridor, the door banging shut behind him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

All: Most guards are now unconscious or dead, a few having managed to escape the prisoners wrath. One or two are now cowering in the cells and other isolated corners. Eight are holed up in the section armoury, and any mutant that has gone near them so far has been blown away by the two men at the door with shotguns. You all pause as the loud speakers on in the corridors crackle, then boom out.

"All inmates, please return to your cells. Any further disorderly behaviour will be met with force, this is your only warning."

Some of the metahumans around you seem to grow only more enraged at this, one or two sit down quietly, realising that this opportunity couldn't continue, everyone knew how brutal Chimera could be. This was their heartland, any violence would be met with uncompromising ferocity.

Darwin: Leading Joshua down the corridor, you begin to realise just how labyrinthine this facility is. You haven't passed any signs, but every corridor leading off looks the same as the one you are walking down. Kane is gradually becoming more impatient, scratching at the cuffs around his wrists and complaining.

"Hey come on man, do you even know where the fuck we are?"

You turn to answer him when he stops suddenly. You look back to see that another prisoner has stepped out into the corridor. He stand relaxed, a confident smirk on his face and his hands in the pockets of the orange jumpsuit with 021 stamped across the right breast. You recognise him, even if you couldn't see his face, the self-confident poise and the number would have given away his identity.

Mentem is something of a legend in Ragnarok, unsurprisingly, and his appearance here only confirms your suspicions of him as the mastermind behind the riot. He walks towards you, then pauses, raising an eyebrow.

"Darwin? I didn't have you down as the vengeance seeking type."

(Get in touch with me to plot out some dialogue here Midge )

Lauren and Isaac: With the guards gone, the inmates in Lauren's corridor have moved on and you arrive to see her slumped against the wall, breathing hard and obviously exhausted. You spot each other at the same time. At first sight, the almost predatory Isaac looks like a threat to Lauren and her instinct is to lash out. Do you manage to restrain yourself? And how does he react in either case? (Malochai you'll probably have to wait for Santaire's response for this, but feel free to PM to work out what you guys are going to do)

Elena and James: James finds that it isn't long before his targets are gone, but comes round the corner in time for a large group of inmates come barreling into you. Despite your trained reflexes you can't help being bowled over by the crowd. A second later you feel someone's foot catch under your body and they go down with a clatter. Elena is the one who tripped over you, and you flicker back into visibility as she turns to see what she tripped on.

Jake: The meta you've just helped grins, taking your hand and shaking it firmly. "Thanks, names Rex."

As he extends his hand you notice that it is covered in thick grey scales, extending up past the cuffs of his sleeves. He notices himself. "Oh, sorry."

He concentrates for a moment then holds out a normal human hand. "You're Current right?" (PM me for more dialogue if you wish, otherwise, you too will head straight after the metahumans who appear to be heading away, you can only hope they're heading towards the exit.)


----------



## Romero's Own (Apr 10, 2012)

James kept running. But there was little resistance left. Most of the gaurds were unconscious or dead. And those that weren’t were faking that they were. But a gunshot, shortly followed by a scream, from the direction of the section armoury suggested that at least some guards had had the sense to not meet the angry mutants head on.

James slowed to a light jog as he carried on down the corridor, phasing back into visibility. Suddenly the loud speakers stationed along the corridors burst into life. James drew to a halt as a booming voice rang out across the prison.

"All inmates please return to your cells. Any further disorderly behaviour will be met with force; this is your only warning."

James noticed that a few of the metahumans around him just sat down and gave up while others just seemed to grow angrier. James laughed out loud, gaining him some odd looks from nearby mutants. 

James knew how brutal Chimera could be from first-hand experience. And they were in the heart of Chimera, any violence would surely be met with great ferocity? And yet James did not fear. The once though inescapable prison was now nothing more than a building, a building that housed an army of really pissed off superpowered ex-prisoners. The party was only just getting started.

James set off at a run again, phasing invisible again as he turned a corner. Yet suddenly a group of inmates was running towards James. Not having time to move out of the way the prisoners barrelled into James, not seeing him till they hit him. James was knocked back and landed hard on the floor.

Seconds after he fell James felt a foot catch on his own and a body fall down beside his own. James remembered then to phase invisible again as he turned to see who he had knocked down. He met gazes with a pair of startlingly blue eyes. He took in the sandy blonde hair that framed the narrow face and smiled, at least he’d knocked down a chick.


----------



## Midge913 (Oct 21, 2010)

*Darwin*

Needless to say things had not gone exactly as Darwin had planned. The twisting, winding, unmarked corridors all looks the same; grey concrete, steel, unmarked doors met him and his companion at every turn. Here and there the duo had passed several bodies, both of guard and prisoner. The devastation that had been wrought on this place, though some may have been justified for the inhumane treatment most of the Metas had to endure, was almost more than Darwin could stand. After so many years in isolation, this flare of emotion, this horrid spectacle that assailed his senses at every turn was another fresh torture that threatened to unhinge him. 

He had almost vomited at the sight of a guard, his features completely unrecognizable, completely torn in half, viscera and entrails spread in a completely unnatural pattern on the floor around him. Bile rose in Darwin's throat as his mind finally accepted the only conclusion his logic had allowed him to come to.... This man had been toyed with, his guts the play thing of some freakish mind, patterns scrawled on the floor in this poor man's life blood as a child would have done with finger paints. It was too much, surely freedom, even from this hellish domain, was not worth this. 

To make matters worse, Darwin started to get the feeling that Kane was beginning to lose confidence in his plan. He kept whipping his head around, wild eyes fixing Darwin with fervent eagerness. Despite Darwin's efforts, he was foiled at every turn and the pair were forced to turn around from a dead end once more. He had to accept the fact that he was lost. 

A grunt of impatience, the sound of nails against plastic drew his gaze to the cuffs that Kane wore. The skin there was red and chaffed, mirroring the attitude of its owner, annoyed and irritated. Itching to make progress. Some of what Darwin felt must have shown through his stolen expression, because Kane stopped still, an air of a feral beast about to pounce on unsuspecting prey palpable around him. "Hey come on man, do you know where the fuck we are?"

The question was to the point and Darwin knew that the next several seconds would weigh heavily on how he answered the man's question. To tell him the truth? or to continue this game? Both equally dangerous. Darwin, even though he his entire recollected life was one of imprisonment hated having his back against the wall, this time the feeling was exacerbated by the perilous nature of his associations. 

Opening his mouth, words of falsehood on his lips, but the words weren't needed. A door had opened in the corridor behind him, the sound loud in the mostly deserted hallway, and Kane had stopped dead, mouth agape. Turning to confront whoever it was that had just walked through the door, Darwin immediately understood the nature of his companions consternation. The man that stood before him, confident, relaxed, but dangerous as a tiger in high grass. A condescending smirk dominating a plain face, his hands in the pockets of his orange jump suit, which had you exchanged it for jeans and a t-shirt you would have thought that he was just out for a Sunday stroll. The bold number, number 021, stamped across his right breast confirmed Darwin's identification. Mentem, a legend here in Ragnarok, and Darwin had no doubt left that it was this snake that was responsible for all that was going on. 

his approach slow, Mentem looked Darwin up and down, a small smile lingering on his face as he took in Kane with equal interest. A quirked eyebrow only added to his infuriating air of superiority, "Darwin? I didn't have you down as the vengeance seeking type."

"Vengeance?" Darwin will say with a short laugh, "No Nathaniel, I seek only freedom." If Mentem felt any annoyance at being referred to by his given name, he showed no sign, but Darwin would be damned before he would be cowed by this man. 

"Freedom? Don't we all," Mentem said airily, his tone full of judgement and enjoyment,"and yet here I find you dressed in a dead mans clothes. And accompanied by none other than Joshua Kane. You have fallen far."

Exasperation set in. If Mentem wanted to play games, so be it. "The man's death was not of my doing," his eyes will flick to Kane, saying all that needed to be said."His clothing however provided an opportunity that I could not pass up. I have caused no death, unlike you, and have gone out of my way to prevent it where I could." He felt the trap as it was sprung and he could do nothing but laugh inwardly at the oddity of the situation he know felt himself in. Standing in a hallway, wearing a dead man's clothes, the murder of the man not feet away, and the mastermind standing in front of him. The three taking up space in the most secure facility in the world, during the most violent prison riot in Chimera's history, and Mentem wanted to debate morality and ethics? 

As if he knew Darwin's thoughts, which Darwin reluctantly told himself was more likely than not, Mentem smiled, pulling a shrill whistle between his teeth, "and yet here you are before me, obviously taking advantage of my willingness to do what you are to weak to do yourself. Does that really make you any better than me? Besides, you know there is no way out for you without me don't you."

Darwin didn't care what this maniac thought... He knew his choices and the reasons that he had made them, "I harbor a certain amount of guilt that this opportunity for my liberation comes at the cost of so many lives." Darwin said, locking his unwavering gaze on Mentem's, "I also don't have an answer for whether or not my choices in comparison to yours make me better or not. But I do not revel in this as you do. I do not take pleasure in the death and pain that run rampant around me. My conscience is clear in that regard Nathaniel, that much I know."

Mentem returned Darwin's stare without faltering, his eyes boring into Darwin's as he smiled. A smile that Darwin couldn't help but notice did not reach Mentem's eyes. "At least I do not lie to myself about it, at least I know my own mind." His smiled, the expression turning malicious, knowing that Darwin had no memories of his past, a statement that cut Darwin deeper than he wanted to admit. Mentem's eyes flashed as he took a step forward, half raising a hand, "perhaps I can help you with that?"

Stepping back slowly, smoothly with out the haltering reaction that would have displayed fear where there was none, Darwin smiled back with his own fake smile, the corners of his mouth pulling slightly where a scar rested on his stolen visage, a sensation he was not used to when making the movement, "I think not. I would rather not have you digging around up here," he said, tapping the side of his head, "If it is all the same to you." Mentem, unsurprised halted in his advance a small shrug punctuating his gaze as it once more tried to bore its way into the deepest reaches of Darwin's mind. 

Despite the fact that he would rather pull his own toenails with a pair of pliars, Darwin had to admit to himself that Mentem had been right. He would never make his way out of this facility without the man's help. He had never even seen the outside of this place, let alone the way that lead there. 

"That being said," Darwin began, reluctance in every fiber of his being as he spoke, "I think that we can be beneficial to one another... I want out, you want out. It seems that our goals are not mutually exclusive and, at least for the moment, they seem to be the same."

The barest flicker, a hint of truth behind those staring eyes the only emotion that registered on his countenance as Mentem lowered his hand. "I am glad that you can at least see that," a small sigh escaping his pursed lips, quiet words, almost half said came with it "... old friend."

It was as if lightning had hit Darwin's brain and it was all that he could do to keep his face an emotionless mask, the fake smile attempting to cover his fear. A fear that Mentem was telling the truth. That somehow, in some past life, he and Nathaniel Marks had been associated closely enough for the barest trace of emotion to slip through Mentem's mask. A paralyzing anxiety threatened to root him to the spot until his logical mind, the one that reasoned, that held the same capability and more, baring the telepathy, that the man across from him had. Could it be true? Yes, the possibility could not be discounted. Darwin knew nothing of his former life, but he did know that now, in this very moment he abhorred the man that had brought such violence to this place. That the man he was now could not and would not condone this as necessary or acceptable. To his great surprise, Darwin felt that he had managed to keep his consternation from his face. If he had not, Mentem made no sign that he had noticed the war of emotion that his simple statement had elicited. 

Though it had felt like an eternity in his head, a mere breath of time had passed since Mentem's hushed words. "I'm sure I can find somewhere you might be useful," Mentem continued,"though really, I'm here for him." He finished waving a casual hand in Kane's direction. 

Darwin, not knowing the full extent of Kane's power, as Mentem obviously did, had no response for the statement. No inkling of the plan that he was sure had been analyzed, dissected, changed, and re-changed with in the intelligent mind of the man that stood before him, superiority oozing from every pore. He would need to play along if he was to escape.

Shrugging, as if his next statement was painfully obvious, he addressed Mentem, "I am pragmatic Nathaniel. You obviously know much more about this facility than I do. For me to even have hope to leave it, I am forced to accept your help." Determined, forceful, to the point, "Once we leave this place however, our association is at on end." He let a small silence punctuate his words before he set aside his pride and asked, "What is your plan?"

Shaking his head, disgust evident in his expression Mentem all but sneered, "Oh, believe me, our association is not one I intend to prolong. Your self-righteous view is not one I wish to expose myself to anymore than I really have to." Laughing to himself he pried, "Tell me... Why exactly would I share my plan for escape with someone like you? Hm? You are well known to be.... friendly to the guards. That is not exactly a beneficial trait to me."

"Not self-righteous Nathaniel," Darwin said, his tone even and patient. His voice sure, "only true. Had there been a way to leave here without blood shed, I would have taken it. I do not have to agree with you, or your methods, just as you don't need to agree with mine. I care about life, all life, and do not cast it aside so lightly." scoffing, half from the irritation he felt at the need to explain himself, half annoyance that he must admit the next,"As to what skills I have to offer you, I regret to say you probably know better than I."

"I don't suppose you are going to waltz out the front door," Darwin sighed," So I suppose that another pair of eyes and another pair of skilled hands are better than one."

Mentem's gaze lingered on Darwin's stolen face for a few seconds, his expression blank, his emotions unreadable, "Well then, perhaps we should take this opportunity to leave, I have other people to collect, perhaps you could free our friend Mr Kane, he is very important to me right now. Oh how I wish that we were going to waltz out the front door. No, we have things to do first, things in which..." He looked Darwin up and down pointedly, "you might be very useful."

Once more questioning the wisdom of his choices, Wondering if his desire to be free of these walls had clouded his judgement, Darwin moved slowly to Kane, taking a pair of clippers from one of the pouches attached to his pilfered belt, he cut the plastic cuffs, freeing the man's hands. Turning to Mentem, reservation boiling in his mind, Darwin said, "Lead on."


----------



## High_Seraph (Aug 28, 2009)

Holding his hand out Current waits as the other meta reaches his hand out which is covered in thick grey colored scales that reach up past his sleeves coating his arms. Pulling his own hand back slightly the other notices it and pulls his own hand back before concentrating slightly as the scales slide back into his skin before he smiles and says, *"The names Rex mate."* as he firmly shaks Current's hand. Looking at him current thinks to himself _Well that might just screw my plans of sacrificing him up to the guards if we get overwhelmed allowing me to escape. Though it might not be that bad if I get him to reveal his power beforehand._

*"So, Rex what exactly does your power do? I mean you seem to know about me and mine and it would only be beneficial for both of us if youcan advise me on yours. In case yours intefere with mine or vice versa wouldn't you agree?"* Current says after a moments pause hoping to get the information he wanted. Watching his face Current is surprised to see Rex smile after that. Bringing his arm up the scales come back out of his skin covering his forearm before creeping up his hand forming it into a brutal looking grey claw, *"Pretty much as advertised on the tin there Current."*

Nodding at that Current looks around the hall seeing most gaurds are either dead or have bolted trying to get away from the angry and freed meta's that have started rioting when he hears, *"All inmates, please return to your cells. Any further disorderly behaviour will be met with force, this is your only warning."* Looking back at Rex Current is pleased to see a defiant look on his fellow meta's face. _"Well in any case where did the last guards run off to in case you saw where as that might be leading to the exit. In which case we might be best served in going together as we can watch the others back and you can certainly watch mine while I take care of any electrical security."_ Waiting for his answer Current drops to a knee rummaging through the guards pockets looking for a key or something that would give an inication of where to go. Looking back up he sees Rex pointing down the way he was headed saying, *"Well the last couple ran away down here, maybe that's the way out." * Nodding his head Current stands up and looks that way before tuurning his head the other seeing the same view before turning back at Rex. _"Let's go then mate. There's nothing else to keep us here is there?"_ he finishes with a crooked smile.


----------



## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

With the guards either dead or fled and the corpse of the ice wielder the corridor was deserted but for me and I allowed my weariness to show, slumping and almost falling. I caught myself on something and stifled a cry as I cut my hand open on the razor sharp ice that jutted from the wall. I looked at my hand and was blind to the blood that trickled from the cut, a scar that would never leave me and never let me forget that place. The place that scarred me in more ways than the physical.

I felt more than heard the pounding of footsteps and straightened and reached for my gift, yearning for it to come at my call. But it had deserted me. A feral looking man in an orange jumpsuit like the one I was wearing ran round a corner.

My instinct was to lash out but with my gift gone I was reduced to mundane means and though I was not above challenging the man, I doubted I would come out on top in a brawl with him, not considering his bestial expression. And so I shrank backwards, seemingly terrified of him. But as I did so I tensed. I was on a hair trigger, just waiting for him to rush me.

I shrank further away as he stepped closer...


----------



## Malochai (May 27, 2012)

After stalking the corridors of Rangarok for half an hour, killing more guards as they tried to subdue him and covering himself in their arterial spray, Isaac had turned his look from drawn out and slightly deranged to completely predatory. His orange jumpsuit was stained with blood, so thick it almost blotted out the printer lettering on the left hand breast of the jumpsuit - ‘Prisoner #112’. There were a dozen bleeding cuts on his face, which was pale in the fluorescent light strips, and his hair hung lank and greasy. He had just put another guard to death, after the cruel, lean bastard had refused to hand over his weapon. He held the nightstick for a moment, considering it before snapping it in two and snorting at it, *“Pitiful weapons.”* Kicking the dead corpse, he laughed gently. 

_‘Much worse than an animal - at least they have sense,’_ he thought. Kicking out again, he spun on his heel and strode down the corridor which ended in a T-junction. A stifled cry caught his attention, and he turned his head to the left, where it had originated. He growled as if warning one of his dogs back home. _‘Home,’_ he thought dreamily, before shaking his head and berating himself, _‘This is no time for daydreaming!’_

He took the left hand route, and approached the woman, leaning heavily on the wall as she was. Her slight frame and height caused her to look vulnerable, but even in his primal state Isaac wasn’t stupid - if she didn’t have powers, she wouldn’t be there, and there was no saying what they could be. He stepped forward, and saw her shrink away in front of him. He smiled viciously, and stepped forward again. He hadn’t seen a woman for months, and one so beautiful as she was had been rare even when he was free. Primal thoughts of lust tore through his mind and he took another step forwards, growling. He reached a hand forwards, fingers hooked and clawed, ready to grasp clothes and flesh, ready to rip and tear. His hand was so close he could almost imagine he felt the heat of her flesh. 

Suddenly, almost involuntarily, Isaac cracked his neck, tilting his head further to the side than was comfortable until the vertebrae cracked loudly, ringing in the silence of the corridor. His amber eyes seemed to clear for a moment, and he pulled his hand back. He took a step back and looked down at himself, as if seeing his state for the first time. He shook his head and put his head in his blood-stained hands. Despite his dislike of people, he never thought he would do so much to show it. _‘Maybe I lost my mind these past ... However long,’_ he thought. Looking up, he saw the woman still watching him warily. He sighed, and tried to smile at her, but he thought it would probably make it worse. 

*“My name is Isaac ...”*


----------



## Angel of Blood (Aug 18, 2010)

I left the corpse of the guard behind and followed the other fleeing inmates. They howled and whooped as they breached each new corridor, like a tidal wave of destruction and anarchy, more akin to animals than humans, unleashing their powers in ecstatic delight on guards and prisoners alike. They disgusted me in truth, they were exactly the sort of people I needed to kill, the guards had the misfortune of being in my way, their crimes of being our gaolers paled in comparison to the dregs of society whose wake I followed. But they had their uses, a means to an end.

Keeping to the back of the 'pack' I avoided the worst of the fighting, expediting my escape from this hole. I call them a pack due to them lacking almost every quality of a human being, one might call me somewhat of a hypocrite, I was hardly the model image of a well adjusted young woman, but the dregs in front of me were making me look positively charming. 

I think I'll kill them all once we escape. That is if any of them are left by that point. I punctuated that thought by tripping a snarling inmate in front of me with a claws instead of hands, nimbly cartwheeling over his prostrate form. A duo of guards who had been reaching desperate hands out for me only moments earlier descended upon him instead, laying into him with night sticks and tasers, causing him to shake violently. 

The man would never escape. Hell with the volts they were pumping into him and the pasting he was receiving, he probably wouldn't walk again.

I honestly couldn't give a shit.

"Hey come here pretty girl, It's been to long since I had any company that wasn't my hand!" I heard to my immediate left as an unkempt and wild looking man grabbed hold of my hand, a lust crazed look on his twisted features.

What a hilariously misjudged decision. 

Focusing on the man, I drew the moisture in from the air around me and grinned as ice began to creep it's way onto the would-be-rapist, soon-to-be-in-inconveivable-pain-rapist. His eyes opened wide in horror and shock even as mine narrowed to compliment the wicked grin now spread across my face. 

Still grasping his now totally frozen hand, I leaned in close and whispered into his ear. "I sincerely hope this is your 'happy' hand"

Keeping his hand grasped firmly in our icy coupling, I excited a perfect twist and roll to the ground, throwing him across the corridor. He looked up at me with a dazed and confused expression, even as I turned away and sprinted to catch up with the pack.

From behind me I heard a agonised cry of despair and loss.

My hand still firmly held onto his.

As the pack and I sprinted round the next corner, I suddenly found my feet pulled out from under me as they hit a seemingly non existent barrier. Despite all my agility and skill, I ungraciously and unceremoniously crashed to the ground. 

I twisted my body round as a tall heavily tattooed man materialised on the ground behind me. A stupid and infuriating grin plastered itself across his face as his emerald eyes locked onto my own glacial blues. 

Springing lightly and expertly to my feet, I glared down at him and sneered "What the fuck are you grinning at ninety-six?" taking in the number on his jumpsuit.

"Know what happened to the last wannabe rapist who tried to lay a hand on me?" I snarled, holding up the wild mans still frozen hand. "Let's just say the prick won't be playing the piano any fucking time soon."

I threw the dismembered hand at his still prone form.

"Now be a good little boy and fuck off"


----------



## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

_I sit in the corner, curled up, and all I can think, is why am I here?_

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

_And now the cage begins to fight back, the bars strain, twist, returning to their original configuration. Then they begin to contract, the cage compressing, constricting, controlling._

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The central control room was in chaos, orderlies running this way and that and console operators screaming into their mics. Various warning lights were flashing, throwing an ugly red glow across the room, bathing everything in a bloody tinge. A man in a suit walked in, crisp, clean, unaffected by the chaos around him, he was accompanied by a thin, sharp looking man who seemed uncomfortable in his own suit, rubbing at the material, his head twitching occasionally.

The suited man's voice cut clearly through the hubub.

"What is the meaning of this?"

A huge man turned as the room fell silent.

"We have a breach in the meta-containment facility sir."

The other man looked unimpressed, regarding the tall black head of security impassively.

"And that neccessitates... this?" He gestured around himself at the room."

"Well sir..."

"There are protocols put in place for this Moore, I suggest you follow them, you may update me on your progress."

Without another word he turned and left the room, his diminuitive bodyguard stared coldly at Moore for a moment, before turning and following. Silence reigned, then Moore turned and began to issue orders, and it came crashing down like a breaking wave. Men and women started to move again, covers were flipped open and buttons depressed, complicated codes were typed rapidly into blinking screens and the control room began to mobilise.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The meta-containment facility had only one way out, a huge four foot thick steel door. When the alarm had sounded the door had automatically locked down, sealing the prison off from the rest of the facility. On the other side a rank of armed guards stood, weapons at the ready. They were jumpy, if anything could get through that door then there was little they would be able to do with their rifles anyway. They jumped as a mechanical whirring sounded behind them, looking round to see a Hydra Riot Suppression Unit moving into position behind them. Another group of guards rounded the corner and their earpieces crackled.

"Prepare to enter the containment facility, the riot must be put down. Use of tranquilisers authorised."

They readied themselves, steeling their nerves, and then, with a groan of gears the door began to rise. It was agonisingly slow, the huge door revealing the corridor inch by inch. It finally receded into the slot in the roof, and as one the line advanced, weapons up and scanning. Half a dozen meta's came around the corner and went down to a hail of precision fire, falling unconscious to the cold floor.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Darwin: Mentem leads the way, his careless swagger grating on you more than you care to admit while Kane follows eagerly after him like a loyal puppy. The corridors you follow him down seem identical in every regard to the last, simply a new stretch of unadorned concrete. Nonetheless the criminal mastermind obviously knows where he is going and it isn't long until you find yourself in an area several metas have obviously just passed, not least by the man lying spreadeagled, his face blue and frost misting from his body. There are others in the corridor, but the look of horror on his face is the one from which you can't tear your eyes away.

You come round the corner to see a woman and a man, the man on the floor and the woman on her feet. She is quite startlingly pale, with the thin graceful body of a dancer or a gymnast. The guy on the floor is young, smiling, somehow too naive to really fit in here.

Elena, James and Darwin: You barely finish speaking when you hear footsteps, and turn to see another three prisoners come around the corner. Elena recognises Mentem, but not the others, though it's a fair guess that they are all high risk inmates, and therefore dangerous, even to you. Your suspicion is disarmed by Mentem's instant, welcoming grin, "welcome, have no fear, I have a use for you as well."

He glances at James on the floor, then walks further down the corridor and beckons to Kane, leaving Darwin, Elena and James to get better acquainted.

Isaac and Lauren: I am content to see how you guys choose to pan this out. Continue with your interaction, remember though you guys won't know each other you might have seen each other before. That and being in prison has a fantastic concentrating effect.

Jake: You follow Rex down the corriodr, following the twists and turns until you catch up and join with the group that had gone before. You round a final corner and you can almost smell the freedom when suddenly there is a gentle pffft of gas and they fall all about you, even Rex goes down, his eyes bulging, his scales appearing on his arms before fading once more. You gasp as a dart flies past, grazing your cheek and despite it even that tiny amount of contact is enough to knock you off balance. Woozy, you stagger back around the corner and sit down against the wall hard. You focus on your hand, trying to summon your powers as the inexorable footsteps of the guards draw closer.


----------



## Santaire (Feb 13, 2011)

“My name is Isaac ...”

The man smiled slightly, but it appeared more of a grimace than a smile. I took a second step back, straightening. “Lauren,” I spoke to fill the silence more than anything else as we watched each other, each tensed. I saw past the blood and recognized the man beneath. “I remember you,” I spoke my thoughts aloud. “You are that one who the guards said was no better than an animal. The one who could talk to the beasts before they put the collar on you.”

"'The one who could talk to the beasts'," Isaac murmured, his eyes losing their intimidating focus. Suddenly, his eyes turned hard again and his smile disappeared. "Yeah, that was me. The freak. The guy with no friends." He snorted in derision, and gestured around at the devastation in the corridor. "That still hasn't changed, Lauren." Tilting his head very slightly, Isaac looked at me quizzically almost as if wondering why I was speaking with him

I smiled grimly. “Neither it seems, has the idea that I’m defenceless. I’ve already had a bloody terrakine try to force himself on me. He is currently out cold, locked in my cell.” Isaac laughed dryly and straightened, appearing to relax. “Don’t worry Lauren; you’ll have no trouble from me. Killing the bastards who put me here has calmed me down.”

“We’re free of our cells, but not free yet Isaac.” Despite the grimness of my words, I relaxed myself. I wasn’t alone in Ragnarok and Isaac reminded me of the fact


----------



## Malochai (May 27, 2012)

The muscles of Isaac’s mouth screamed as he tried to smile, but the attempt was genuine. He realised how long it had been since he’d spoken to someone properly, instead of screaming foully at them. 

He looked at Lauren, taking in the sight of a woman; something else he hadn’t done in months. She seemed exceptionally calm considering his appearance and that, less than a minute before, it looked as if he was about to force himself on her. 

“I remember you. You are that one who the guards said was no better than an animal. The one who could talk to the beasts before they put the collar on you.” Shock coursed through Isaac momentarily, she remembered him? _‘How bizarre ... Maybe she always noticed the ‘wrong guys,’ before and decided to change,’_ he thought sourly, snorting slightly, the focus of his eyes shifting to the past as he replied.

*“'The one who could talk to the beasts'. Yeah, that was me. The freak. The guy with no friends. That still hasn't changed, Lauren.”* His mind was thinking about one of the many ‘hers’ throughout his past. Always, he could become close to someone, for however short a time, but never anything more ... Never anything _real_. He grew angry at himself and focussed on the woman before him. She would be just like the rest, he told himself. He barely heard the first words of her reply. 

“Neither it seems, has the idea that I’m defenceless. I’ve already had a bloody terrakine try to force himself on me. He is currently out cold, locked in my cell.” Amused, Isaac laughed, but eyed her with a certain distrust - _‘She is dangerous, or she would not be here ... Do not forget that ...’_

Trying to lay aside his concerns, and keep them from becoming obvious, he straightened, a slight smile on his face and replied once more, *“Don’t worry Lauren; you’ll have no trouble from me. Killing the bastards who put me here has calmed me down.”* He was distinctly aware that, minutes before, she had been about to have ‘trouble’ from him, and was disgusted at himself for that. Her reply brought him back to the reality of the situation, quickly. 

“We’re free of our cells, but not free yet Isaac.” He shook his head; she knew how to bring a guy down, that was for sure. He shrugged. 

*“And if we don’t move, we never will be. So ... Shall we?”* He asked, gesturing down the corridor, left eyebrow raised and head tilted very slightly, akin to a dog looking questioningly at it’s master.


----------



## Midge913 (Oct 21, 2010)

Darwin couldn't help but snarl inwardly at the man's attitude, his eyes trying to bore a hole through Mentem's back as he lead the way down the corridor. Kane made things even worse. It was as if the sadistic killer longed to be lead around like a lost puppy and Darwin shook his head at the way Kane continually looked int Mentem's direction, his gaze searching for either approval or command, Darwin knew not which, nor did he care. The more time that passed, even though it was only a matter of minutes since he had thrown his lot in with the criminal mastermind, the more he regretted the decision, the more he wished there were some other way. Despair began to creep in on the edges of his thoughts..... He felt more trapped now than he had in his cell. 

Casting the depressive pall that hung on his mind aside, trying to concentrate on the twists and turns of the hallways, Darwin began to take note of the turns the small group took. Right, then left, then another left, then right. Hallways seemingly without end, all identical, and despite the fact that he could by memory return to the exact spot in which he had encountered Mentem, that did little good in his attempt to move forward. He hated being dependent on that man, but he knew that he lacked the knowledge to free himself, so he had little else to do but to observe and remember. 

It was obvious when they had re-entered the area of the prison that had activelt seen the riot, bodies dotted the ground, both meta and guard, dead prisoners bearing the marks of both batons and powers, the guard, what was left of them, killed in methods that at times defied description. Darwin could feel that they were coming closer to others. He could not explain how, but he felt his nerves tighten, his awareness peak. 

Following Mentem around a corner, he was surprised to find that they group found themselves not in another corridor, but a larger room, its expanse dominated by the tableau of a woman and a man, she standing over the prostrate male. Anger flooding her features, tight with adrenaline and purpose, a startling contrast to the young man at her feet whose smile and youth seemed out of place in the environment of death and its dealers. 

The woman's gaze snapped first to Mentem, her expression seemed to draw the man's attention for he held up a soothing hand, a grin and a smile coloring his voice with a friendly air, "welcome, have no fear, I have a use for you as well." His arrogance supreme, Mentem strolled past, Kane in his wake, as if the woman would do nothing else but wait for his instructions. If this phased the woman, little showed in her expression as her gaze snapped to Darwin's face, her eyes, analytical, searching, prying, as it travelled up and down his body, lingering for a moment on the guards clothing. Something about the way that she looked at him made him feel slightly self concious, the fact that he wore the 'enemies' clothing causing him to frantically search for a way to explain his situation. As much as he hated to admit it, Darwin hoped that his association with the Mentem would offer him some protection. 

As her gaze found his face again, she tensed, bristled more like it, and growled in challenge, "Who the fuck are you." The harshness of her tone at odds with her graceful appearance. 

Something about her challenge brought something primal, something forced forward by his ego, to the fore, he wanted to shout. Something, whether prompted by fear or by self-preservation, made him want to lash out and put her down. But he shook his head and kept all of it from his face, that was not him, that was someone else. He reigned in his emotions, as he had taught himself to do, focusing on a single burning flame in the corner of his mind, feeding all but logic and knowledge into it to be released. 

Raising an eyebrow, calm surety reigning his expression he answered in a steady tone, "Who I am I don't believe is any concern of yours. I am a prisoner, I want out, that should be enough of an association for the moment."

A twinge of anger, almost screaming from her expression, colored her words, anger seething in them, "When you are dressed as a guard it's my concern. You see, we, that is to say the guards and I, we don't get along. Pretending to be a prisoner sounds like a fine way of trying to avoid all of the.... retribution. So once more." Her words became clipped, anger cutting through them, punctuating them. Darwin was almost caught off guard when the temperature around them, centering on the woman, her startling blue eyes boring into him, trying to root him to the spot, "Who. The fuck. Are you?" Frost had coated her exposed skin in a thin rime, her breath misted in front of her. She was dangerous, she had power, Darwin could feel it not only dancing in the air around her, but also in the way that she looked at him, like an obstacle to be removed. 

Holding up his hands in surrender, caution staying his tongue, though his air took on that of a teacher instructing a pupil. Charles had complained about it endlessly, but it seemed that it was a subconcious reaction to stress. "Dressed as a guard yes," Darwin said, "But a guard I am not." Gesturing to his clothing, "this was taken from a corpse, a disguise of opportunity." Looking onto her piercing gaze Darwin tried to convey his sincerity, trying to convey that he was not a threat to her. She remained unmoved, he could tell, his next words would determine what would happen between them in the coming seconds, "Alright.. I am prisoner 006. I don't remember my real name, but the guards called me Shift." Of the names that Chimera had given him, that was the one he hated the least. It had caught on with those guards that had begun to see him as more than a prisoner, the ones that had treated him with fairness. He figured that in leiu of providing his real name, he would go with this one. It would be known among some inmates, hopefully it would cut some of the tension between him and his fellow prisoners if the name was recognized. Unfortunately it did not seem to be the case with this woman, but his tone, or the information that he had provided seemed to placate her. The tension in her shoulders eased and the temperature began to warm as her power drained away. 

"Better," she said, looking at the guards clothing and equipment once more, "So you know though, that's pretty fucking grim." A look of distaste flashed across her features before she seemed come to some decision, though it seemed to pain her, she relented a little, " I am forty-six, good enough for the guards, good enough for you." 

Though he wanted to know more, his instinctive curiousity demanding more information, he forced it down. The questions he longed to ask dying on his tongue as he forced himself to accept her answer. Nodding his head, acknowledging her reticence to share information with those she neither knew or trusted. He would understand, for he was in the same position. Even more so than other for he knew nothing of the world outside this place. His gaze shifting down to the man on the ground, he said to Forty-Six, his words full of disdain for the current situation,"This is a chess game that I am going to tire of quickly.... The faster we are out of here the better."

Turning his attention from Forty-Six, to the man who had been prostrate on the floor watching the interchange between Darwin and Forty-Six with the air of a man waiting to see which one of them was going to win the exchange. Offering a hand, Darwin smiled at the boy who could not have been more than sixteen or seventeen years old. A smile, a friendly air trying to disuade any other hostilities, as the boy took his hand, "What's your name kid?"

The boy beamed, it was as if this whole thing was no more than a weekend adventure, "James, or Nightwalker to most." he piped, offering his thanks for the assist to his feet. 

Nodding at the information," As I said I suppose Shift is as good a name as any at the moment." 

Glancing sideways at Forty-Six, James said with an almost sullen air, "Yeah, ok," he said, almost rolling his eyes, the fact that Darwin and Forty-six didn't trust him and irritation that was clear on his face. "Into nicknames are we? Then it's Nightwalker."

Stiffling a laugh at the youth's behavior, letting none of his amusement to tinge his tone, "Well son," Darwin chided, "i think it more a matter of who to trust with what, no offense intended." His tone took on a firmness, "But I don't know you son and I have learned today that trust is a precious currency at the moment."

Seemingly assauged James nodded with another smile, "Well, if you are trying to get out of here, then count me in. What's your power?" He queeried, almost as if it was a second thought. 

Holding up a staying hand, Darwin stopped the youth in his tracks, "One step at a time. I think that for the moment I am going to keep what I am capable of to myself." He couldn't help it as his gaze shot over his shoulder, locking onto Mentem. Darwin did not want to admit, especially in front of Forty-Six, that he had no idea what his powers were except for limited shape-shifting. Mentem knew. The fact that that lunatic knew more about his abilities than he did chaffed him. Almost as an after thought he added, "There are too many who have that knowledge already."

An exasperated sigh drew his attention back to Forty-Six who was staring at him, "Well aren't you Mr. Mysterious." Annoyance clear in her expression, though it seemed that James missed her intentions. The boy barked out a laugh, "The chick has a sense of humor."

Darwin could tell that Forty-Six did not take kindly to the boys words and almost unconciously he took a step closer to James, intent on getting between the two should something happen. But Forty-Six merely fixed James with a murderous glare, "Call me chick or any of your other cute little pet names one more time and you'll wish you had never left your cell."

Wisely, James seemed to take the threat seriously, taking a small step back, but his tongue still flapped, "Ok," he said, "memo to self, avoid the crazy lady." His smile broad, his expression still excited. 

Once more Darwin couldn't help his gaze flitting over in Mentem's direction, he had listened as the man had greeted Forty-Six and James as if he knew them, or at least as if he had expected them to be right where they were. He felt a compulsion to warn them, to let them know that despite his appearance, Mentem was cold, heartless. "I know that you don't know me and that we are not exactly rolling in trust," he jutted his chin in Mentem's direction, "But he has plans for all fo us, our unlikely benefactor.... He sought me out, just as he sought out that Maniac Kane. Believe me when I say that his welcome was perfunctory. He means to use you and then discard you."

Forty-Six snorted," Use me? Who's to say I won't be the one using him?" Her eyes turned hard, harder than they had been moments before, "I'm nobody's pawn. Besides, I thought you were tiring of the 'chess game' as you so eloquently put it."

Darwin smiled, "Just because one tires of the game, does not mean that he does not play to win." Turning from them, he began to walk in Mentem's direction. "I just wanted to level the field, put everyone at the same level of advantage." His smile deepened, "The more pieces he has to worry about, the more likely it is that he will make a mistake."

In short order, Forty-Six and James both fell into step with him, the former shrugging in a non-chalant manner, ""Little bit of advice double-oh six, ditch the guard outfit, cause if we should come across any vengeful inmates, then you can bet my ass that I ain't coming to your rescue"

A only had to think about that for a split second, before he began to strip out of the equipment vest and shirt. "Fair enough," he said losing the hat, "I see little need to maintain this deception anyway. It is obvious by my current association that I am not a guard." 

James merely shook his head and mumbled under his breath with a chuckle, "Fun fun."

Darwin couldn't help but think that a flight for his life and freedom and pitting his wits against a telepathic criminal mastermind was going to be anything bit fun.


----------



## Romero's Own (Apr 10, 2012)

The girl spat out words, hatred burning with her every word.

"What the fuck are you grinning at ninety-six? Know what happened to the last wannabe rapist who tried to lay a hand on me?" 

She snarled and even James’s normally constant confidence was shaken by the ferocity.

"Let's just say the prick won't be playing the piano any fucking time soon."

The girl threw something at James which he very quickly worked out was a severed human hand. He pushed it away from himself and began to get up.

"Now be a good little boy and fuck off"

The girl’s gaze was suddenly drawn away; James followed her gaze to see an average height man with dull brown hair walking towards them, flanked by an athletically built man with the eyes of intelligence and a man that instantly reminded James of an animal. 

The leading man held up a soothing hand, a grin and a smile colouring his voice with a friendly air,

"Welcome, have no fear; I have a use for you as well." 

The man’s arrogance was almost frustrating for James but looking up into the girls pale little showed in her expression as her gaze snapped to one of the men’s faces, her eyes, analytical, searching, prying, as it travelled up and down his body, lingering for a moment on the guards clothing. James looked away from her and focussed as well on the man that had paused as the other walked past. His face was pale, unblemished by scars of any other sign of age. It was hard to place an age on him but James guessed at around 4 years. James’ scrutiny was interrupted as the girl spoke again, or rather growled.

"Who the fuck are you?" 

The man shook his head, almost as if he was regning in his emotions before raising his eyebrow at her, his expression being one of calm as he spoke in a steady tone

"Who I am I don't believe is any concern of yours. I am a prisoner, I want out, that should be enough of an association for the moment."

The anger that James already associated with the mysterious pale girl was obvious in her voice.

"When you are dressed as a guard it's my concern. You see, we, that is to say the guards and I, we don't get along. Pretending to be a prisoner sounds like a fine way of trying to avoid all of the.... retribution. So once more”

James shivered. He didn’t know if it was from her angry voice or the fact that the temperature seemed to have just plunged.

"Who. The fuck. Are you?" 

In fact, when James turned to her he noticed what looked like frost upon her face, her breath misting in the cold air.

The man held up his hands in surrender and spoke in a measured tone.

"Dressed as a guard yes, but a guard I am not. This was taken from a corpse, a disguise of opportunity." 

He paused for a second, his eyes scanning the girls face for any sign of expression, but there was none.

"Alright... I am prisoner 006. I don't remember my real name, but the guards called me Shift." 

The temperature in the room seemed to rise and James could see the girls shoulders relax.

"Better. So you know though, that's pretty fucking grim." 

A look of distaste flashed across her features before she seemed come to some decision

“I am forty-six, good enough for the guards, good enough for you." 

The man nodded his head before shifting his gaze to James. He spoke again, obviously still to the girl, his voice filled with disdain.

"This is a chess game that I am going to tire of quickly.... The faster we are out of here the better."

The man then offered his hand to James, still lying on the ground and smiled. When he spoke his voice was friendly.

"What's your name kid?"

James beamed, glad to be talked to as he was helped to his feet.

"James”

“As I said I suppose Shift is as good a name as any at the moment." 

James glanced across at the girl before shrugging and rolling his eyes. It was obvious that neither of the inmates trusted him.

"Yeah, ok. Into nicknames are we? Then it's Nightwalker."

"Well son, I think it more a matter of who to trust with what, no offense intended. But I don't know you son and I have learned today that trust is a precious currency 
at the moment."

His feeling of distrust confirmed James nodded and smiled

"Well, if you are trying to get out of here, then count me in. What's your power?" 

The man held up a hand, stopping Jmaes in his tracks.

"One step at a time. I think that for the moment I am going to keep what I am capable of to myself." 

James noticed the man glance over his shoulder at the two men nearby before turning back.

"There are too many who have that knowledge already."

An exasperated gasp drew James’ attention back to the girl, 46.

"Well aren't you Mr. Mysterious." 

James laughed out loud. 

"The chick has a sense of humor."

The man, or Shift, stepped closer to James 46 fixed him with a stare that would dissuade most guys. Most, not James. She spat out her words.

"Call me chick or any of your other cute little pet names one more time and you'll wish you had never left your cell."

James took a step back, hands up in surrender, but he couldn’t help himself from thinking aloud.

"Ok, memo to self, avoid the crazy lady." 

Shift spoke once more, bringing 46’s attention away from James

"I know that you don't know me and that we are not exactly rolling in trust," 

He paused to gesture at the two men standing nearby again

"But he has plans for all of us, our unlikely benefactor.... He sought me out, just as he sought out that Maniac Kane. Believe me when I say that his welcome was perfunctory. He means to use you and then discard you."

46 laughed out loud

“Use me? Who's to say I won't be the one using him? I'm nobody's pawn. Besides, I thought you were tiring of the 'chess game' as you so eloquently put it."

Shift smiled, 

"Just because one tires of the game, does not mean that he does not play to win." 

Turning away from the pair Shift began to walk away towards the two other inmates. 

"I just wanted to level the field, put everyone at the same level of advantage. The more pieces he has to worry about, the more likely it is that he will make a mistake."

James shrugged; he had nothing better to do so he fell into step behind Shift. He felt 46 fall in beside him and heard her voice again.

"Little bit of advice double-oh six, ditch the guard outfit, cause if we should come across any vengeful inmates, then you can bet my ass that I ain't coming to your rescue"

James smirked as the man began to pull off the guard uniform as 46 had instructed.

"Fair enough. I see little need to maintain this deception anyway. It is obvious by my current association that I am not a guard." 

James shrugged and smiled as they walked down the corridor.

"Fun fun."


----------



## Jackinator (Nov 18, 2008)

_I'm so lonely, it's only me. Sometimes I just curl up and cry, I want someone to come and comfort me. No one does..._

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mentem claps his hands once, the sound of skin on skin echoing down the corridor. As you turn to him he is smiling, that arrogant, superior smile and beckoning to you, "ladies, gentlemen, we have a breakout to be getting on with. This way if you please."

He beckons and leads the group of you off around the corner, down the blank faceless corridors, somehow leading the way without hesitation, without pause for thought. The bodies are becoming less and less as you go, and then instead of dead guards, you begin to see more slumped orange figures. First only one or two, then half a dozen more, most appear merely unconscious, one or two are bloody, the front of their jumpsuits decorated with a thousand tiny perforations.

Mentem offers no response, and indeed, seems to ignore the bodies entirely, he is no less worried by them as he was by those of the guards you witnessed earlier. As the bodies become more and more frequent you begin to hear a commotion echoing down the corridor, there are screams of rage and the booming report of a shotgun blast. The sounds are clearly coming from a corridor, but Mentem ignores it and simply continues past it. You hesitate as you hear a scream from down the corridor.

"No, please no."

He turns when you notices your pause and raises an eyebrow. "Shall we continue?"

He acts as though there is nothing untoward happening, waiting for your responses.

Darwin: Unlike the others, you recognise the cry for help, the voice is something you have heard nearly every day you can remember. Charles must be down there.

All: You see Darwin's hesitation, and Mentem's impatient look, do you choose to follow the cold and calculating mastermind who broke you out, or the kind hearted shapeshifter.


----------



## Malochai (May 27, 2012)

Isaac had been following Mentem silently, not happy and yet not exactly angry anymore either. Strangely, he felt indifferent - since he had killed the guards and started walking with Lauren, the Meta had become silent and almost brooding. The bright light above was beginning to get painful, and the walls - all the same, with barely any identifying blemishes or identifying features. To Isaac, the sterile stench of the place was nearly overwhelming now he had grown accustomed to the scents of the blood that literally stained his hands. 

_‘I never thought that phrase would be a reality,’_ he thought ruefully. A flash of orange to his left caught his attention, and he frowned, stopping to look at it. His frown deepened when he saw the body of a prisoner rather than a guard. A snarl touched his lips. 

*“All because we’re different,”* he muttered to himself, and spat on the floor. Realising he was starting to fall behind, Isaac strode quickly to rejoin the back of the group. As the orange-clad bodies became more frequent, the Meta became more tense, eyes flicking from side to side and twirling around at the slightest of sounds, some of which may have been imagined. _‘What the hell happened to them?!’_ 

The thought worried him, and didn’t help with his growing anxiety. The fact that their apparently self-appointed leader made no response to these bodies irked Isaac - they had all been locked in the infernal, desolate prison, why should they not all leave as equals? The steely nature of the man leading them was unnerving, _‘But then, at a time like this, isn’t steely what we need?’_ His face became closed and stoney, determined that he would be the same. _‘I don’t need anyone, anyway!’_

The ruckus that could be heard as they continued walking was intriguing - a habit picked up from his inquisitive dogs when he was younger - and when Isaac passed the corridor and heard the scream of “No, please no!” he couldn’t help but stop instantly, trying to look down the corridor and see what was happening. 

“Shall we continue?” The curt question cut coldly through Isaac’s thoughts, and he saw one man had a particularly strong response to the scream. For a second, he thought about starting down the corridor, finding the source of the noise and helping him or putting him out of his misery. And then he remembered what he had told himself. With slight difficulty, he wrenched himself around and looked at Mentem. 

*“Yes, let’s!”*


----------



## High_Seraph (Aug 28, 2009)

Following Rex down the corridors that look the same almost leading him to believe that they have been running in circles Current sees Rex slow down at an intersection before he turns around and gives a brief smile before marking the wall and heading down that direction. Shaking his head Current picks up his pace effortlessly his time in track and later on the streets of New York and the treadmill here keeping him in very good conditioning for the running he was doing before he caught up to Rex again. Watching as he raked his clawed hand over the wall before he turned down the corridor and continuing Current catches up after rounding the same spot throwing a look at the wall seeing a small shape hastily etched into the materiel. 

Jogging up to Rex he asks, _"Leaving breadcrumbs there? Bit silly but with all the same features to this place not a bad idea."_ he finishes with a crooked smile before gesturing him towards a turn that has some distant sounds coming from it. Following Rex down more corridors and hallways that look the same, with the exception of some random guard bodies littering the floor, hearing the same noises get louder and louder his breath coming in and out in practiced rhythms as his legs flow smoothly from each position and arms pumping slightly to stay behind Rex and let him get attack first or taken down buying himself time to run.

Rounding the corner Current sees more inmates rushing down it in a nearly twenty strong group. Practically smelling the fresh air and feeling the suns rays beating on his face Current doesn't react as he hears a low pffft. Snapping his head towards Rex he sees his eyes bulge from their sockets his scales growing out of his skin once again before receding. Quickly looking around Current notices the others have started to drop as well quickly thinning down to those near the rear like himself. Gasping as he feels a quick sting to his left cheek as his hand flies up to it. Stumbling from the amount of tranquilizers in that little contact current turns around banging into the wall with his right shoulder he slides along it to the corner. At the corner he stumbles drunkenly a few steps farther before crashing into the wall he turns his back to it and slides down heart doing a staccato beat in his ears while panting from the effort of walking the short distance. Blinking his eyes and shaking his head he realizes that it's not his heart beating but boots connecting with the concrete that he hears. Bringing his legs up and his right hand to lay at the top of his knee Current focuses all his attention on bringing enough of his power to bear that he can safely get away with using before escaping down a corridor.


----------

