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 [i]telefon[/i], 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.