No sooner had the door started to crack than a deep, joyous voice echoes out into the room.

"Finally, after six long years I'm free!"

A pair of hands reach out of the crack, gripping it and shoving it the rest of the way with a screech of metal. The door had been opening far too slowly for this creatures liking. He had already wasted too much time trapped in this pathetic human dungeon. Every moment he remained was one more moment still separated from his radiant Queen.

The monstrous figure of General Semyaza strides regally through the open space with a swish of his cape. He walks to the edge of the walkway and plants his foot up on the safety railing, raising a clinched fist triumphantly to the sky.

"TIME TO CONQUER EARTH!"

The white cell was perfectly boring, perfectly maddening. He needed something to do, something to occupy his mind. The patterns on the wall panels had served that function for a short time after he had been thrown in here, but now the sheer lack of anything was chipping away at his sanity.

Then again, perhaps he was mad already? Hadn't he just decided to destroy civilisation and take over the world? Those were not the goals of most reasonable men. But no, he decided, he was not mad, and would endeavour to stay that way. He would need his wits about him if he was ever to rule. Knowledge is power, he repeated mentally, and precision is strength. Knowledge is power, precision is strength. He would hold to these things for however long he was here.

*****

The first PDA was intriguing, if not entirely impressive. The "Guardian Angel" claimed that he had been chosen personally, and yet it was clearly a one-size-fits-all job, addressing him as a Rogue who had failed in his criminal career, and would be interested in an evil scheme. James Falcon was neither of these things, and anyone who had taken the least amount of trouble to research him would know that. Of course, they would also be unaware of his recent change of heart and resolution to become what many would call a supervillain. He had come to that conclusion here in this cell with no one else around. Nevertheless, he tapped the button quickly. Any opportunity to get out of his cell was welcome, and if it came from someone who hadn't a clue who he was or would become, then so be it.

The second PDA message was much more to his liking. This "Mister Sinister" may have skipped while researching his benefactors, but James could certainly respect the man's capabilities if he was truly able to accomplish such a thing. It would be worth his while to keep the PDA and learn more of this person and his goals, even if their paths must eventually part. He could use them to gather resources and experience, and perhaps gain allies as he fought towards his goal.

He tapped again, then sat down with his back to the wall and his legs outstretched in front of him. He would need to clear his head and make a plan, such as he could, before launching his career as a rogue. This was to be the first great act of his new life, and he would take hold of it with both hands. He counted the seconds as time slipped away.

"Fucking drongos," another voice said as the door slowly creaked open. Karate Bastard had hardly noticed his months in incarceration, spending the majority of his time in meditation. The collars and bracelets they had slapped on him weighed him down, prevented him from exercising and feeling the full benefits of the power within him. But KB had not been unprepared for his escape. Up until now, his plan had been to wait for a human guard, then rip off the man's face and wear it as a mask in order to fool security and make good his departure.

But an outside agency busting him out? Not quite as dramatic, but it would do. He'd hate to think he was accepting charity, but at the same time, "never look a gift horse in the mouth." A phrase Hiram Walker had been fond of. The man in Texas who had taught him how to fight with a Bowie knife, before Keith took the liberty of crushing his skull. Good times.

As the nullifiers failed, KB felt strength surging back into his limbs. Bloody hardout, that was. Time to get back in the swing of things, no two ways about it. Without a second to lose, Karate Bastard ripped the orange top of his prison jumpsuit away, exposing his well-formed physique to the chill air of the underwater prison as he lurched forwards into the hallway.

The normal silence of the prison block corridor was shattered by the sounds of Keith's extended kata as he prepared himself for battle. Part elaborate gymnastics, part calisthenics, part slapping his own elbows and knees, mostly a lot of high-pitched screaming, KB worked out the kinks before assuming a combat stance. "Right, mates, let's fucking do this!" he yelled to mostly empty air.

Time ticked on. It didn't matter. How long had Nihil been trapped here? It could've been a couple of days, it could've been years. She didn't care. There was no day or night down here- it was always the same for her. Just sitting. Existing. She ate when food came. She did nothing else. Existence was all there was. To one observing her cell she might appear to be a painting. She never moved, didn't seem to even breath. The image of a person defeated. On the outside she appeared all but dead. On the inside the same words echoed in her head: Kill Dalton. That the only thought that inhabited her, the only reason for which she subsisted. Had she gone insane? That was a pointless question.

She was never sane in the first place.

She was sitting against the wall, head down turned, when something came through the door. It was her food... no, something else. An envelope. She might've just sat there, continuing to exist pointlessly. She probably wanted to. But a memory came back to her. She'd been here before, hadn't she? No, a place like it. And this had happened before. She still had it- she wouldn't let them take it. They allowed her that much. The note, pressed against her chest, placed securely under her bra. She begrudgingly rose from her seat, taking tentative steps towards the envelope. She picked up the parcel- it had weight to it. Not a piece of paper. She opened the container, extracting from it a PDA. Orders? She shook her head. Old habits. Of course not. I'm not in that place anymore.

The PDA suddenly came to life as the room died. The device was the only illumination remaining. And then a voice came through. She listened patiently. They weren't orders from the General, but they might as well have been. The same commanding tone, the same expectation of being followed. She hated it. She would've hit no. She would've cast the device away, thrown it against the wall, accepted death. She didn't care. She still didn't. But then she remembered, she remembered her hate and her rage and her need to kill General Dalton Brook. She couldn't accept death her. She sighed, tentatively hitting the thumbs up.

Time to leave, I guess.

The voice spoke again. She listened patiently again. What, did you think she would ignore him out of apathy? She was indeed apathetic, but she was made for following orders. As the screen dimmed she slipped the device in her back pocket. The doors started to slide open. She felt strength flowing back into her. She felt a power she hadn't felt for some time. As the door slowly separated she stretched. Her limbs ached, not having moved for some time. Finally the breadth of the facility was revealed. She took in her surroundings. Five robots. The path lead directly to the 'wind tunnel'. Around her other cells were opening, some of their captives already revealing themselves. She analyzed her new 'allies'.

The first was a strange creature, appearing to be closer to some grotesque deception of an alien than a human. He emerged from the cell with a furor, waving his fist and shouting about conquering Earth.

How annoying.

The next one to come was Human. Male. He was also yelling expletives and encouraging the group to move, assuming some ridiculous martial arts pose.

They're both annoying. I already regret leaving.

The rest of them were still emerging from their cells

She sighed. She would have no patience for their showmanship. She was ready for action. Directly outside of her cell was a robot guard, standing ready to confront the escapees. She poised herself for combat, bracing herself low against the ground. She suddenly pounced, springing from the confined rooms towards the robot. She appeared as a blur to the others. Dispatching it was easy enough. She wasn't exceptionally strong but she had a great amount of momentum, moving exceptionally fast. The force of her fist moving at the speed that it was had been enough to punch a large dent in the robot's 'face', disrupting it's internal circuitry and causing it to fall to the ground. As she made contact with the ground there was a distinct pain in her fist. She just sent it against solid steel, of course it was hurting. But she had been trained to ignore it. She hardly felt it. She strode over to the now disabled machine. It didn't hold a weapon. She was disappointed.

She turned back towards the other cells, her face indicating that she was somewhat impatient.

When Riley was first brought into the correctional facility the scientists had been fascinated. This was after all an unextraordinary girl whose fingers spurt fire, seemingly at her will. They’d poked and prodded, conducted experiments, trying to find where the smoke and mirrors and gasoline was coming from. And then it had become understood that Riley’s fibers were simply made of different stuff from them, and they desisted, leaving her alone to languish away in a cuboid cell so dizzyingly white and patterned that it made Riley’s head swim with headaches, caught in a game of dice while she was rolled around in it.

Not to mention, the authorities had probably grown weary of Riley impassively setting fire to their receding hairlines when they made a threat to a Naomi Pielwood one too many times, while she lay strapped bored to an examination table with her vitals beeping beside her head.

In the cell and lying on her back with one arm raised to cushion her head, Riley laughed, a lone knee jutting out from the ground. The sound echoed in the hollow room, reverberated in the silence. Once, Riley might have been sparingly abashed at such an obnoxious noise. But that was before she had come to know only quiet, and to relish her own voice. “Ah,” she said fondly, with a dying chuckle and a smile to herself. “Good times.”

Riley hadn’t seen another soul in ages, but that didn’t mean she was alone. There was a tingling sense in the back of her neck, a feeling impossible to place that hinted she was being watched. Cameras weren’t too difficult to install, and the sheer omnipotence of whoever observed her day and night was just too obvious. This had to be how the religious felt, as they snuggled in their cocoons of blankets, mattress moulding obediently to their every curve and tangent, and settled in for a good night’s sleep, transferring all worries and woes and security to a being they trusted would be there to watch them wake.

But Riley was one of the faithless, and she didn’t quite envision her captors as gray bearded men armed with a crooked staff of righteousness residing in the clouds. Still, she would give anything to hear the crackle of her own fire. She did so miss the powers she had just acquired, if only to bring some warmth into this godforsaken cage.

An internal clock rang the alarm and Riley’s eyes flickered to the door, just in time to watch her food tray being slotted in through the opening in the door. With a deep sigh of someone who’s life had been reduced to pure monotony, Riley heavily got to her feet, one hand ruffling up her cropped hair. Meals were no grand affair, but they were a splash of colour – green peas and mahogany ribs if it was a lucky day – in the monochrome cell. As Riley neared it however, she stopped short, catching sight of an envelope lying on her plate.

Disgruntled, she bent to pick up the tray, her right hand hammering dully on the door. “Oi!” she called, knowing that even if the sound didn’t travel through the walls, some camera or microphone within would pick it up. “You know if you want me to cook for myself you’re going to have to give me my fire!” Riley rattled her tray for emphasis, the envelope cluttering suspiciously noisily. She pounded the door one last time, before letting up and turning away.

“And actual ingredients,” she added, fingers picking up the envelope and playing with the fine corners. Riley opened it, to find a gadget lying inside of it. A frown deepened her brow, before smoothing into a look of impassivity. She flung the tray absent-mindedly, and kneeled down facing a corner, back hunched over this new treasure.

The pads of her fingers played over the contours of the PDA, and finding a button Riley pressed it, only to be plunged immediately into darkness. The PDA slipped from her hands, landing screen-down as Riley cursed and snapped her fingers. “A black-out? Now?” she muttered, knowing full well it was the furthest thing from a power trip. “Come on…now would be a great time to reenact the whole let there be light shindig.”

Then, seeing the PDA backlit by light from its screen, she reached out to cautiously cradle it in her hands as a voice filled the cell. Riley worked through her shock as she listened to the message, to the alleged Mr Sinister. She tsked over the booming words. “Mr Sinister. A child could have chosen better.”

“…you don't have any other choice. Think about it, what if you had a group to call upon when you need some bailing out, or when you are planning a great heist?” Riley’s eyes narrowed at the vivid sun on the PDA screen. “Or an idiot to land you in a jail.” To take her away from a good thing going, to rip her apart from her sister… Riley didn’t find group work very droll business.

But then, thoughts of Naomi she had suppressed out of pain dovetailed with the proposition that had just been made, and Riley froze, contemplations to scoff at the offer and cast the PDA aside screeching to a stop. Naomi, now probably going onto seven, who had gone three birthdays without her big sister. Naomi, who was still waiting for Riley. Getting out would mean returning to her.

“Oh, god damn you,” she snarled at the PDA, one finger vehemently punching the screen. The prison floor plan filled the screen, and Riley listened to the instructions and information rattled at her. Pressing the screen as requested, she tucked the PDA away into her pocket, and on a belated thought folded the envelope in as well.

She would need to get word to Naomi somehow to start expecting her sister.

A few rounds of mindless pacing later, the power flickered in the cell, before the door to her cell flung open, creaking with misuse. Hope surged in Riley’s chest, but she refused to allow it to add a spring in her steps toward the exit, even over the cacophony of other prisoners finding their release. So she wasn’t the only one who had been propositioned. Simply fantastic.

Her feet carried her across the threshold. Riley raised a hand to her eyes, breath bated, as she snapped her fingers. Click. A flame burst to life before her, quivering in the rush of air Riley exhaled in surprise. The smile she hadn’t permitted cracked across her face, and an astonished laugh tore its way from her chest. The flame wavered violently, swaying alarmingly. But it burned on, as stubbornly inextinguishable as ever.

"Right, mates, let's fucking do this!" Riley looked up, to see an inmate with a newly-bared chest, a curiously-proportioned figure who had declared a conquest of the Earth, and a girl who had just neutralised a robot. Riley smiled an impish smile, dropping her hand to put out the flame, and turning to face the rest of the Rogues who shared her ticket out. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourselves, boys,” she said with a mischievous lilt in her voice. “Let’s focus on showing ourselves the way out first without getting caught, shall we?” And hopefully find a kitchen somewhere, she thought with a small grumble of hunger to get her hands on a dagger after those couple of years eating with a plastic spork.

Riley glanced over at the girl with long black locks and an air of irritability, and gave her a once-over. An expression of slight amusement quirked at her lips and brows. "Impressive. Think you can do that to all the bots that come our way?" she said, eyes lighting on the now faulty machine, and threw in a small well-meaning jaunt of the lips for good measure. "Liven up a little."

Semyaza, having visibly tensed once the sound of martial arts had passed what counted as his ears, took his foot down off the railing and turned to face the humans. "Without its strength sapping magic no cage can contain the Grate General Semyaza. These pathetic human Idols are no match for a true soldier of the Grigori Empire! Escape was inevitable the moment I was released from my cell."

It had been a hell of a 6 years in that cell, an angelic hymn constantly produced by the speakers on the wall. Some days he had been too delirious to even eat. He'd barely had the strength to pick up Mr. Sinister's device. The effort it had taken to press his thumb not once but twice to the device was rivaled only by the metal fortitude it took not to attempt to crush it for the Earthlings insults. Indeed, it was probably only because of how weak he'd been at the time that he was even out of that cage. But now he could again feel dark energy pouring through every muscle, and as he spotted the disabled robot on the floor he felt a sudden urge to use it. How dare a human draw first blood when he had been so wronged, was so much more deserving!? Like hell was he going to allow himself to be outdone!

As a pair of security robot came running toward them he let out a battle growl and threw his arms forward. His arms extended like whips, dark electricity sparking through his fingers even as his hands grasped for the robots.

The promised fifteen minutes ticked away, and as the cell door unlocked itself and swung open with a series of metallic clinks, James Falcon rose to his feet, an empty plastic food tray in his hand. Power surged back into his body like a comfortable warmth in his stomach. The ability was a part of him, and it felt so right to have it replaced after being torn away. The first wrong to be righted.

The tray in his hand began to grow, doubling and then tripling in length, width and, most importantly, thickness. What had been flimsy now had enough strength in it to act as a makeshift shield, or so he hoped. Next he turned his attention to the bolt on his cell door, and it shrunk to half of its original dimensions, allowing the man to work it free of the locking mechanism. Once free he grew the small steel rod as he had the tray until it reached the size of a hefty metal bar. If he was going to be treated like a violent criminal by both governments and rogues, he might as well meet their expectations. His improvised tools weren't much, but he felt it prudent to be armed for his dash to the exit.

He peered out through the doorway, scanning the hall. Other prisoners were already out and exalting in their freedom. One had even felled a robotic guard. Looking beyond them to the end of the hallway, he focussed on a spot just near to the shaft and activated his second ability: visual range teleportation. In the blink of an eye, he was standing there, looking into the raging current of wind in front of him. He took a deep breath and stepped forward over the precipice.

Had it really been half a year?

Time seemed to be absent in this place. No windows to indicate the cycle of the days. No clocks to hear the rhythmic ticking. No leaving the cell. It was a maddening reality and a probably a hopeless one, too. The only thing that kept Elizabeth Fowler grounded with something resembling hope was to keep track of time. The automated systems put in place made everything easy. Meals were the first and greatest clue, always served twice a day and at the same exact times. But that alone couldn't suffice. It was too easy to forget which meal you were having. Was it breakfast or dinner that you had just consumed? The meals were always the same, too, always cold and lifeless. No, you had to do so much more to keep track of time. The guards' patrols had to be counted as they, too, followed the same robotic rhythm. In between that, she counted the seconds that had passed and constantly drilled herself on the present date. Sleep was an obstacle that was easily overcome by the meal times. And so on, Elizabeth, or Ellie, would live out each day of her captivity counting. She never wasted her time, kindling useless dreams of hope with thoughts of escape. Time was the only relevant thing left at this point.

When Meal #359, slipped through the security door's tray, it was immediately obvious that something was different about it. The same cold proportions and Ellie's daily ration of blood, a very necessary thing for her survival were both arranged in the same, precise manner. The disparity came from a little device that was almost entirely a screen. The meal could wait, whatever the device was it was certainly more important.

... There seemed to be little choice offered, not that it mattered though. A sudden promise of escape was more than enough for Ellie to be finally free of the counting, especially considering the alternative. She wasted no time and pressed the PDA's button for the second message...

The message was halfway through before she realized she should probably being remembering it all. When the message ended, she paced around the room for a few minutes. With the lights out, Ellie could probably sneak out as it was pretty dark allowing her to Shadowmeld for an easy escape. But the lights came back, making the last few minutes of planning worthless. If the lights functioned, Shadowmeld would be useless.

After another few minutes, she had almost forgotten about using her other power, but when she felt that particular thirst, she remembered. Sitting on the tray was still that pint of blood from her meal that she had forgotten all about. Carefully pulling open the paper carton, she took in a deep inhalation before taking a sip of the cold, foul-tasting liquid. Ellie felt a surge pulse through her, wanting more, but she wouldn't give in just yet. The door buzzed and then it loudly unlocked itself. Ellie pushed it open and stepped out into the hallway, and the beginning of a new chapter.

There were others out in the hallway, which stretched off in a circular fashion so that you couldn't see too far in one direction. Who the prisoners were, was irrelevant at the moment. Right now, all of them were probably yearning for that promise of escape. Looking around, Ellie didn't see where she was supposed to go. However, she did see a woman topple a robotic guard and another, some strange alien guy, shoot electricity at two guards. She didn't care about the rest and instead opted to walk casually along the tight corridor, cradling her pint of blood. She probably looked silly carrying a colorless milk carton, but it didn't matter what the others thought. She carried on, stepping past the others until she became the closest to the shaft-thing that the PDA talked about. Scratch that, second closest as a man had managed to teleport over there just now. Every man for himself or herself, it seemed.

Two guards remained and they came charging from the shaft over to the group. Ellie backed up, feinting her helplessness. She stepped behind the other two women present and called out to them. "They look so scary..." Ellie whimpered as she changed her whole demeanor to fit the façade. "I don't think I can help, but, erm... maybe you two can?" She said with an uneasy smile and a nod to encourage the others to take care of the guards. It wasn't so much that Ellie wasn't willing to get her hands dirty, rather she would prefer to save her ability until it was necessary.

Ek'ork had been living in this cell since he kill that foul human. The man had deserved to die and he brought about his sweet release. Once he arrived here the Nexus was cut off and he was left alone. Everything was so cold and damp, lifeless in his cell, even the poor food that never changed was horrible.

Prison life for Ek'ork was tough. He could not here or feel his own people and he could not feel himself any more, this cell had made him human and he hated it. There were few good things that came out of killing the president; he learnd the human language, lanred about their emotions and culture, and now and understood why he was put in here. His people learn from others by eating their whole being and adding it to the Nexus to make them a better people. If he ever got out his people would learn what a family is, learn love, and gain desires, dreams, and goals.
________________________

Ek'ork was in meditation when his food was dropped in. He waited a moment and then looked over to see that it was an empty tray with a tiny envelope on it. He had to crawl over to it due to his size, onece he opened it he saw that it was what man called a PDA. The thjngs were good for keeping up with the hustle and bustle of their meaningless lives. Once he clicked the button it came to life and the 'Mr. Sinister' started to speak. The tone of the voice sounded like his father and, if this man is anything like his father then he will either be a great ally or a dangerous foe.

Ek'ork accepted his offer, deciding that if this was the only way out then he had to take it. Once his cell shut off for the second time and the doors opened he stepped out and the first thing that hit him was a wave of power. Clutching his head he could feel the Nexus coming back on line and could feel the thoughts and emotions of the little numbers that made up his kingdom.

After the wave stopped water boarding his mind her regained his composure. Looking around he saw some others who Sinister had mentioned he would have to work with to get out. He observed them and watched how the one girl took out the guard and then another creature destroyed two others. He saw one left and it was looking at him. It was the only thing blocking his path to the wind tunnel, that a man was already at. He walked towards the tunnel along the path and when the robot noticed him it charged at him. The robot punched him in the chest and destroy its hand in the process, but it did bring a cracking sound. Ek'ork was confused about this and then he noticed from years of having to crouch he was still hunched over. So he shot a hand through the machines chest and threw it over the rails onto the lower floors. He then began to crack his bones and stretch his muscles. He twisted side to side, he flexed his back and cracked his neck, all to gain his stature back. Once he was done he was standing and his normal domineering height and he felt loose and relaxed for once.

He approached the man already at the tunnel and and stood next to him not saying anything just looking at the air go by feeling its breeze. He stuck his hand into the current and the power was great. Ek'ork was sure it could carry ecen the heaviest of men up to the top.

Looking down to the man next to him, Ek'ork thought to speak. "It is time we leave Sinister did say we are on the clock. He said with a soomth ans silky voice due to him not using it for a long time
.With that he turned around and looked at the others in the room before gesturing to the shaft.

Intial Report:
-WARNING-
Hack in process.
Systems over ride
All Cell Block A cells have been unlocked
Power cut to Cell Block A.
Scaning for life; 7 inmates have been released
Prison Riot in progress
ICF Prsion lockdown for Cell Block A in effect.
Threat level: B

-WARNING-
Jerico Flush protocal have iniatated;
Guards are being dispached to subdue the targets and get them back in their cells
Prsion water levels have begun to rise
Floors 100-78 Are now flooded
Floors 77-65 Are now flooded
Threat Level: A

Alerting ARGO HQ
Dispatching distress signal to Vigil Tower.

-WARNING-
Elevator shaft is open possible escape route aquired.
Level S threat now in affect.
Sending remaining grunts to subdue and capture the inmates.
Powering on WARDEN CRAFTCHENCO for lethal combat at the top of Cell Block A.
Threat Level: S
__________________

Red lights start to flash the emergencey lighting and then 2 dozen guards begin to fall in from an unknown place fightimg the remaing inmates on each 'dry' floor before the water rises tonthe floor. The only dry zones are the cells themselves

If you look down you can see the lower levels being filled with the water drowning any who refuse to get back in their cells. Guards fighting any one who is not in their cells. You are on level 52.

While up top in the dome the husking robot that is Craftchenco sits at the wide entrace awaiting the Level S threat.

Others had come out. Many of them already proved to be equally as annoying as the previous. Nihil was disappointed. It seemed that what she had expected to be a group of professional criminals were a group of flamboyant idiots. One of them, a short hard tattooed women told her to 'liven up'. She ignored the suggestion, instead scowling. Another women had addressed her. This one was hiding behind her, begging for her protection. What a blatant lie. Even if it was the truth she wouldn't care. "If you're here escaping with us you aren't defenseless." Was all she said in reply. She was not interested in wasting time with them, she was interested in escape. Before she had let herself be captured because she had given up on her goals, but now with the power of this 'Mr. Sinister' there was some hope that his resources could put her in the reach of Dalton Brook.

All she had to do was play along.

By now more of the robots were descending on them. She didn't care for them. She instead set her sights on the wind tunnel, their escape. It was easy enough to bypass the guards. Below a torrent of water and bodies was rising up. They weren't the only escapees, but it seemed that they were the only ones that Mr. Sinister planned to actually survive. Nihil would waste no more time here. First she leaped, moving at impracticable speed. She landed firmly on the shoulders of one of the robot many new robot guards. The robot attempted to throw her off but she kept her hold. She placed her hands against it's head, grabbing the notched area at the top of its head, giving her a good grasp. She exerted pressure against its shoulders, pulled on it's head, and leaped again while still holding on. The head came of cleanly in her hands. She momentarily examined it, then tossed it aside.

By now she was already at the wind tunnel. She jumped in, letting the gust carry her upwards.

Rose was a bit behind the others. She had been waiting for someone to help get rid of the circle of salt that she couldn't pass over. Finally some debre from the fight had come and broken the circle allowing her to escape. Rose at this point smiled walking out through the break. A robot guard had come to try and stop her however she was able to grab some of the debris from other robots and pommel the robot with it. At this point she saw quite a bit of a fight going on ahead of her. She took a breath before stepping on the wall and then the ceiling beginning to walk on the ceiling able to avoid some of the robots entirely as they helplessly tried to jump up and grab her only to realize that they were too heavy to jump up at her.

Rose eventually made it to the air tube after passing several of the others. She had her hands behind her back the entire time she was making her way to the tube. She was barefoot as well but this didn't seem to bother her. If any of the guards had been human then Rose would have been able to just eat them, but alas all they had were robots and they tasted terrible. "I really hate robots, their no fun." Rose said as she approached the tube of air where she jumped into it after falling from the ceiling and landing on her feet. If any of the inmates had even heard of the Movie "The Bloody Rose" Then they would not exactly who she was, as she was the subject of that movie.

Karate Bastard scowled as he took in the other inmates that were being released. A sniveling woman, some alien thing, another woman who seemed more than capable with her own hands, a woman who had the gall to tell him what to do, others who didn't interest him. Superpowers. They brassed him off. Keith had spent twenty years in hard work developing his abilities, these freaks simply had power handed to them by a quirk of genetics.

He grew even more surly as they eliminated the first handful of guards before he had enough time to adjust to his new surroundings. However, his frown split into a wide grin as more guards began to drop from the ceiling and advance menacingly on him. Finally, a fight worth having. KB remembered his instructions well enough- he had to rattle his dags over to the shaft and move on up. A cracker of a plan. But in his view, it had been too long since he had a right proper punch-up, wouldn't hurt to shake off the rust.

The first of the guard robots lunged at him, glinting purplish in the red emergency lights. Karate Bastard leaped into the air, turning a complete somersault over the head of the guard, landing gracefully behind it. KB took a split second to assume the stance of the dambe boxers of Nigeria, before throwing one of the precise, powerful punches of that particular discipline. A high-pitched and overlong kiai emerged from his lips as his fist tore through the guard's back and emerged from the robot's chest. The robot was unable to feel pain, of course, as KB withdrew his fist from the hole it still turned and attempted to fight him, weakly and slowly swinging a fist. KB smiled in glee as he smashed the palms of both hands simultaneously into the sides of the robot's head- the telefon, to a capoeirista. The metal head collapsed inwards in a shower of sparks, crushed like an empty soda can, as the guard fell to the floor with a resounding clang.

Karate Bastard suddenly felt the cold arms of another guard coming to embrace him from behind, wrapping around him in a bear hug with the intent of physically dragging him back to his cell. Unlikely. "Bit of a dag, aren't ya, mate?" he asked the robot as he grabbed the wrists of both arms and threw himself forwards into yet another largely unnecessary tuck-and-roll. The robot's steel arms tore easily from the sockets, leaving the guard helpless as KB pirouetted and began a vicious escrima two-stick routine on the robot with its own arms. KB was almost disappointed by the small amount of abuse it endured before falling down. "Piece of piss," he commented to no one in particular. "Too bloody easy."

It had been a fun little workout, but KB realized this was the time to make some tracks. Alarms were ringing, which he recalled from the orientation meant floors were being flooded. KB had no intention of drowning.

He stopped only long enough to retrieve his lost shirt. Not to wear, of course, but to quickly tear it into several small strips and wind them together into a serviceable rope. He tied one end to each of the wrists of the severed robot arms, then gave the weapon a few experimental twirls. It would do.

Tucking his improvised nunchaku under his arm, KB ran towards the shaft, where several of the other escaped inmates were already making their way topsides. Some of them might make convenient allies, at least for as long as it took to get out of this prison. Might not be a bad idea to stick close for the time being. Leaping in, he felt the wind whisk him upwards, towards yet another fight.

Things were looking up, for sure.

Riley looked down in bemusement at the young-looking girl with black curls, asking for protection - and what was that smell on her breath? It smelled suspiciously coppery. She arched an eyebrow in inquisition, as the grimmer woman who had scowled at her proposition said a few curt words before embarking to leave. Riley turned her grin to the cowering girl then. She had seen the same trick before, done by girls she had known in a past life who wanted some slack. "Sympathy points don't generally pan out well among most Rogues," she offered with a shrug, already beginning to turn on her heel. "Lady's got a point though, don't seem like you're helpless if Mr Sinister handpicked you." Slowly backing away into the battle, Riley flicked her right arm like a whip and felt her grin widen as she felt the familiar warmth tickling away around her palm. With her non-inflammatory hand, she saluted the girl. "Sorry, 'mite. Hit me up some other time when we're not in the middle of a robot war. I'll see you on the other side, pretty sure you're going to make it." With those words flippantly thrown out, Riley turned, and headed for the worst of the clash. Even if the girl didn't, Riley's words wouldn't be held against her. She stole a glance back, before focusing entirely on what lay before her. But no, surely they wouldn't lose anybody at the first stage.

Her right hand aflame and blazing, Riley made a quick dash through the thick of the robots - most of them already engaged in combat - dodging nimbly out of the way when the mechanical whirs darted out to grab her. She managed to make it halfway through when she felt steel talons enclose around her arm. She grunted, and tried to wrench it out, but of course no give. With her right hand, she grabed the thin joint of the robotic limb, and felt cold metal heat up alarmingly. In just seconds, Riley skipped away, and watched as the robot's arm fell apart, melted at the elbow.

She had just made it another few bounds when another robot appeared before her, somehow even meaner-looker than the one before. It reached out once more, but Riley jumped out of its reach, circumventing its outstretched arm to jam her hand between its metal plates. Her fingers splayed out inside, ripping out as many wires as she could find, trying to find something vital and flaring her hand into fire when she did. At once, the robot began to short-circuit and overheat, and it wasn't long before it collapsed in a heap at her feet.

Completely satisfied with her fire, she put it out, and sprinted for the tube she had seen the rest go up. Before a robot could make an eleventh-hour grab for her, she pounced, and felt the billow of air whisk her away.

Nataliya was imagining a vacation in Peru. It would be warm(it was never warm here. The colder she was the slower her metabolism, the less they had to feed her) and she would be very drunk. She couldn't remember the last time she got drunk. Her body just burned it off and then she was in jail. They didn't exactly have happy hour here and no humans to bribe for just a shot of real Russian Vodka. In her Peru she had lots of Russian Vodka, perhaps more than they have in Russia itself. In the real Peru, they were a disgraceful lack of Vodka, something she would rectify when she got out of there.

Speaking of, she watched as her food trey was delivered, before her food was supposed to be delivered. She got up and stalked around the PDA before she grabbed it. She listened to the first message and then decided what the hell. She tapped it again before putting it in her bra and glanced outside her cell.

Nataliya was curious, it's the only reason she accepted. Her brother would have gotten her out sooner or later, or at least transferred to a lower security prison. After all, no one knew the extent of her abilities, not even her. All they know is that she was fast, but fast wasn't enough to keep her here with the lawyers at her disposal. Still, it was interesting and Nataliya was bored. She had a wonderful imagination, it kept for entertained for hours on end but even it had it's limits. Her cell door opened but she waited a few minutes before exiting her cell. She wasn't a fighter, so she waited until she had a clear way to the tubes before taking off, she was there within ten seconds and she went up in the tube to the

Feeling his pride duly assuaged as the two robots exploded in his hands Semyaza drew back his arms and turned to face the walkway toward the shaft, by now thick with robots and other prisoners. He glanced down over the side, toward the rapidly rising water. As much as he wanted to stay a while and show these humans the difference between himself and their pathetically weak Idols he really didn't want to swim out of here.

His cape billowed out behind him as though caught up in a sudden windstorm before distorting and hardening. He gave his wings a few practice beats to reacquaint himself with the feeling of them before giving a satisfied grunt before kicking off the ground a souring over the walkway toward the airshaft. His eyes flashed and suddenly he was firing beams of dark energy as he flew, strafing the walkway with laser fire that throws up a trail of explosions in his wake. It looks like a dumb special effect, as though he'd beeen pulled along through the air by wires just ahead of a series of pre-set explosives on the bridge, but the bits and bodies that tumbled off into the drink attested to the effectiveness of his attack. Then he set his wings back and dived into the doorway, rising anew once he was though with another great beat.

The wind roared around him as he soared upwards, and the cells, walkways and flashing lights of the lower levels became a blur around him. As water poured into the prison, though, it also hit the bottom of the shaft and was caught up in the current. The air column quickly became an inverted rainstorm, drenching him through his jumpsuit and stinging his eyes as the drops flew past. Nearing the top, he angled his body so that he moved forward and was able to alight on the very edge of the top level.

Before him stretched a colossal dome, what he assumed to be the above-ground portion of the prison structure. It was almost entirely empty, just bare steel walls webbed with support girders and lit by bulbs hung from the ceiling by wires. Each was contained within its own small reflectorised dome, so the floor was covered by patched of stark brilliance spread through deep blue shadows. The upside-down waterfall behind him was beginning to spray fluid out across the floor, where it formed puddles that glimmered faintly in the specked light.

The only other things in the room were a barred door at the far end and the metallic colossus rising from the centre of the floor. The warden was humanoid, but in an exaggerated fashion. The tower of dark mental and sharp edges was topped by a tiny head and glowing, beady eyes that scanned the room with malice. He could see the faint blue glow of the powerpack mentioned in the PDA shining from within the thing's chest, but it was obviously well protected. The thing rose and swivelled towards him, whirring as it did so. Falcon raised his tray-shield uncertainly. He was no fighter himself, but surely some of the others coming up behind him would be. The one who had spoken at the bottom of the shaft, for instance, looked as if he knew what he was doing.

The dome was dark and damp. The only light coming from dim flood lights and the entrance. In the middle of the entrance was Craftchenco. He was on stand-by mode waiting for the inmates trying to escape. He had already anticipated that the 7 in the tunnel would be coming his way. The Vigil Watchmen are about 30 mins out so he only had to hold out until then. But he thought that he could handle this weak group.

The Warden powered on and began to check all his systems and functions. He had information on each of these rogues and was ready for the fight.

"So you made it this far, I am impressed. It has been a long time since I have had a true challenge. Please give me something to do,I think I am starting to rust. HA HA HA!!!!!!" Craftchenco said with a thick, robotic, Russian accent.

He looks at the group and the release the electronic whips and lets them fall to the floor. He then activates his shield and looks at the group.

"TIME FOR FUN LITTLE ROGUES!!!" Craftchenco said with a shot of a foam capsule from his back. The foam covers the elevator shaft cutting off the only other exit in the dome. He then charges at the group of rogues with his jet packs and and swings at them with his whips.

Rose entered the room only to see the others and what appeared to be their foe. He looked very intimidating with his whips. He said something about being bored though. He seemed awfully excited for a robot, of course this only meant that the fun was yet to come. If this thing had emotions, then she could fight against it. She took a step ahead of the others with a smile on her face. She put a hand to her mouth and started to giggle a bit.

"Seven on one is a little unfair isn't it?" Rose said smirk. Her eyes glowed bright red as her body changed to that of her other more physically powerful Form. She then charged right at him avoiding the whips and attempting to grab him to hold of his him in a bear hug. She knew she couldn't kill him on her own, but she could at least hold him for the others.