"How many goddamn times do we have to knock you people out?" Sonja swore before going to work. It would take a few tricks strung together, which would wear her out. The sheer amount of mojo passing through her body would take a toll. But that was nothing that couldn't be fixed by a shower, a hot meal, and some sleep. An escaped villain wasn't so easily solved. 

Sonja flourished again, an ethereal glow seeming to come from behind her designer sunglasses. Every door in Bouncer's stairwell simultaneously slammed shut, followed by a chorus of clicks as the deadbolt on each door locked automatically. They were good steel fire doors with excellent locks, they'd at least slow Bouncer down. That was merely a starter, though. The magician was just getting warmed up, even as sweat started to run down her face.

Inside the stairwell, a thick choking fog seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, reducing visibility to mere inches. Once in a while, at completely unpredictable intervals, a blue spark dancing through the fog, disorienting and frightening.

A little bit of theater goes a long way. Using her mentalist abilities, Sonja spoke directly into the fugitive's mind, hoping now she was at least a little spooked.

[i]Hey. It's Bouncer, right? Like a club. No one can hear me but you. So listen close. You aren't going to win. You don't get to win. That's not an option. We've brought people up from Miami, London, Shanghai, and Saint Louis for the express purpose of kicking your scrawny ass. Not to mention this place is surrounded by Chicago's Finest, who know exactly how to handle people like you. So there are two ways this can go. Option Number One. You can come back to the lobby and give up peacefully, hands up. You get a fair trial, your Constitutional rights, three hots and a cot at Marion. Or, Option Number Two, you can go ahead and escape. In which case you get to deal with me. Be it today, be it tomorrow, be it ten years from now, I will find you. Doesn't matter if you go two blocks down or to Timbuktu, I will find you. And you won't get any of those things. You will just deal with a sorcerer who has all the power of our nation's murder capital and every reason to hear you scream. So, Bouncer, what will it be? Number One or Number Two?[/i]

There was another click as the bolt to the stairwell door in the lobby slid back open. Sonja awaited a response.