A single figure gazes out into the endless expanse of the New York City skyline. Even though the sun had set hours before, the lights from the metropolis made everything visible, everything clear. At least, that’s the way it should be; though by the weariness on this man’s face, it was clear that the skyscrapers would not give the answers he needed. He barely hears it, a subtle click. Whipping around his eyes burst open at the sight of another figure, and one he had not seen for quite some time. “Bronston? I thought you were dea…“ A flash of light and bang cut our sightseer off as he meets his destruction in the form of a simple metal piece propelled right between his eyes. The force of the bullet sends him tumbling back into the glass window, shattering it completely. The sightseer plummets over twenty stories, and still his killer speaks to the man as if his words would follow his victim to the afterlife. “I got better.”

That was undoubtedly the best part; Ashley had seen this movie around a dozen times and the climax scene where the ARGO agent Jace Bronston got revenge on the man that killed his children always gave her goosebumps. Wanting to take it all in, she leaned forward on her cheapo mattress, trying to take in every moment that the CRT television bolted to the side of her cell could provide. “I’d hate to be on the bad side of that guy.” Which could very well be a possibility as “Jace Bronston: Rogue No More” was based on a true story. But what were the chances that the punk kid that called herself crimson with a K could even build up the reputation to get a high roller like Bronston on her back? Hell, what were the odds of the girl even getting out of this godforsaken sunken ship of a prison in the first place?

From that door that represented freedom fell what was supposed to be dinner, but instead just a measly envelope. Likewise, Ash now had a firm scowl on her face where it would usually be an eager grin. The thin object rested casually up against the brown stained cell door, that entire forward wall bearing that color, serving as a remnant of a time when Bailey thought that she was still Krimson. That first week was hell, and the scars still show on her light skinned palms. If everything had gone as planned, all it would have taken to get Ash free was that single shiv but instead, she ended up gushing blood and bashing her fists against the wall, the pain so severe that she was practically begging for a doctor. None of the other prisoners took “Krimson” seriously after that, and most probably assumed the girl was a lunatic.

“The fuck is this?” Ashley eyed the envelope and then the PDA both with an inquisitive and pissed off stare, her mood heavily leaning to the latter once both the lights and her “home cinema” powered down, and going back to intrigued at the point Mr. Sinister got into the nitty gritty of his operation. Ash couldn’t meet that agree requirement faster if she tried.

Lo and behold, the cell doors popped open and that elevator stood out like the last piece of candy in a Halloween bowl. Stepping out Ash would whistle to one of the robotic guardsmen. “Hey tin-head, I think it’s time for a makeover. I’ve got a shiny red coat of paint with your name on it!”

Vagrant

Looking at the PDA with what seemed to be disinterest, Ben pressed his finger against the screen, causing his cell door to open as he vaguely wondered if the PDA was wanting his prints for something. His clothes were the same tattered, homeless garb he'd been wearing when they'd thrown him in here, just a little bit cleaner. He didn't even bother to look back a the cell that had been his home for however long it had been, there was no personal effects he wanted to take or missed, just his mattress on the floor, the metal frame of his bed that he'd long since started using for exercise, a shower, sink and toilet taking up one corner and a pile of books in another.
Apparently someone wanted to bust him out and "put a team together" or something, he didn't care. Ben just wanted to get back to Regency Tower and make sure his people were doing okay. If this was what it took, then so be it. He had a feeling that when he met the voice behind the PDA, he wouldn't like them though. They sounded too confident and cocky, like the kind of asshole who'd wear an expensive suit or elaborately tailored costume. The kind of person who paid people to tell others their shit didn't stink. What did he say? "Consider this your test to prove your worth as a Rogue to me?" Of all the things Ben cared about, proving himself to some disembodied voice ranked lower than punching himself in the face.

Placing his hand against a nearby wall, Ben pushed with some force. Nothing. So whatever kept his strength locked away was still working. Leaning out and peeking around his cell door, he tried to get a guard count. He counted one before some girl with short red hair marched out of her cell and defiantly called out the robotic guard.

"Fucking kids." Ben muttered. He weighed his options; Clearly the girl was here for something, but if she her abilities weren't working either, she'd be up shit creek. He could let her act as a distraction while he made his way to the air shaft, but Ben wasn't in the habit abandoning kids.

"Shit..." He muttered, stepping out from his cell and facing the girl and the bot. "HEY!"

---

@Marik

Darkness. It had been his sole companion for so long now that he'd forgotten how much time he'd actually spent incarcerated. Not that it really mattered, these solitary moments had allowed Aster to think. It wasn't like he could do much else after all. At first he'd spent hours trying to figure a way out of his cell, but the face mask he had been forced to wear prevented him from seeing anything. Not only that, his captors had also plunged his cell into complete blackness. There wasn't a single photon of light in his vicinity. He could feel them usually but the sheer lack of light had made him feel cold at first, now he only felt numb. His movement had been restricted too, iron-wrought chains had been clasped around his wrists and ankles which only allowed him to move a few meters at best. Finally, due to the Intravenous Line that had been attached to his arm, which provided him with the necessary amounts of fluids, minerals, and other nutrients needed for him to survive, Aster had realized that he was to be denied all Human contact.

It made sense to him, in a strange sort of way, for a man of his abilities. Just one photon of light under his control was enough to cause potential chaos. His only source of communication had been an automated audio message that would question him once a week on his well-being and log his response, no doubt for signs of mental deterioration. He had named the feminine voice Lisa; Her response protocols had only rejected the name at first but just as Aster had suspected, the program was similar to the rest of the facility. It learnt on its' own. Lisa had soon learnt to expect Aster's deviations from her pre-programmed questionnaire and it wasn't long before she was engaging in debates about life and death. Aster enjoyed the distraction for a time, but when he had begun talking about her programmers, Lisa reverted back to her original state; merely churning out her usual responses.

That had been three weeks ago or there abouts; time meant nothing to Aster anymore. Lisa's questions had not come at all and he had feared she may never be allowed to talk to him again. It was evident that her programmers had prevented this after his debates had turned into an opportunity to gain information on his captors. Since then he'd been silent, not even speaking aloud to himself as he often did. It was only the faint crackle of the speaker that roused him from his self-imposed silence. "Lisa?" He croaked, his head rising toward the ceiling where her voice usually came from. He heard the crackling sound once again, this time louder than before. "I know you're there Lisa." Each word sounded strained, three weeks had been a long time not to speak. Aster cleared his throat, wincing a little at the pain of doing so. "Have you come to talk, or have they reduced to a simple program once again?"

A piercing beep was the only response he was given then there was nothing. Aster waited in silence once again. "Mr. Javian." Came another voice, a distinctly male voice. He looked back up at the ceiling, despite the mask obstructing him from seeing anything.

"And who might you be? Where's Lisa?" He inquired, confusion showing in his voice.

"It doesn't matter who I am, all that matters is you and your desire to leave this place." Aster laughed at that.

"Leave?" He began, still chuckling somewhat. "Don't you think that if I could do that, I would have already?"

"Why do you think they're keeping you in solitary confinement, Mr. Javian?" The voice sounded Human, but it was distorted somehow though Aster couldn't quite understand why. "On your own, you could never leave this place. But with my help..." The voice stopped speaking suddenly.

"Why would you help me? I don't know you." Aster started to sound a little annoyed.

"No, you do not know me, Mr. Javian. But I know of you and of your abilities. You see, a man of your talents could be very useful under my employ and I intend to do just that. A job, Mr. Javian, I am offering you a job."

"And if I refuse?" Aster asked, somewhat defiantly.

"Then you will rot here for the rest of your miserable life." The voice responded coldly. "Which, might I add, won't be for much longer seeing as the prison is about to be flushed."

Aster said nothing at first, contemplating who exactly could require his help but the thought of drowning really didn't appeal to him. He had no choice but to accept. "Fine." He said.

"Excellent, although we no longer have much time. After I assist in your escape, you are to meet with a select few of your fellow prisoners. From there you will have to bypass the prison's security bots in order to gain access to a pressurized air shaft which will provide your means of escape whilst the prison goes into lock-down. After which you will be confronted by The WARDEN. It is a robot unlike any other and has more experience than all of you combined. Heed my warning, he is the only one with a lethal kill protocol so he will kill you on sight. The best thing to do is to subdue him by taking the Energy Core from behind his chest plate. If you can get past his gadgets and skills, then your getaway will be waiting in the form of a boat at the edge of the top of the dome."

The speaker went silent and Aster waited with bated breath. Then came a piercing shrill which caused him to writhe in pain before a mild bang! ended it. The cell was silent once again but something had definitely changed. A wry grin spread across Aster's face as he felt the unmistakable warmth of fire. As it dispersed amongst the circuitry within the ceiling, burning debris began to drop into the cell. The flames gradually growing as it was fueled by the oxygen being pumped into the room. Not only could Aster feel warmth, but he could also feel light. It was alarming at first, having spent so long surrounded by nothing. But it soon began to feel familiar. And with familiarity came remembrance. He had no time to lose, if he lingered too long the smoke from the spreading fire would kill him.

Aster lay flat on the floor of the cell and concentrated. He could feel the photons more clearly now, he was able to touch them, to mold them, to control them. He wasted no time in creating three lances and quickly severed through the chains that bound him. The face mask was another story. It had been electronically clamped to his head. A vector would be needed for this. Re-molding one of his lances, he reformed it into a slim tendril and held out a hand to hold it. Then, reaching behind his head, he urged the vector into the small gaps where the circuits that kept the mask locked where held. Granting more light to the vector, it grew until the clasp let out an audible pop! denoting that the lock had been released. He reached for his mask and gingerly began to remove it.

His vision was greeted with a burning sensation. The light from the fire. He had been starved of light for far too long. It took a few moments for the pain to ebb and each blink to hurt less. He stood up now, slowly, his eyesight still returning to him. After tearing the IV drip from his arm, a quick scan of the room showed him the door. His excitement grew rapidly, indicated by the lance he had quickly formed comprised of his earlier constructs as well as more light from the flames. With a wide grin on his face, he spoke out loud, "And the lord said..." Before piercing the lance into the metal-clad door, roughly where the locking mechanism would be. The resulting hiss of the room depressurizing, told Aster it was time to go. He made for the door, tearing it open with a hastily-made vector.

He stepped out into a corridor, which had also been cast into complete darkness. The voice was right, there was no way he could have done this alone. As he decided upon going right, Aster stumbled slightly against the wall. His body had weakened during his time here and his powers would be more of a drain than usual after so long without practice. "Maybe I should return once I'm back to my full strength?" He spoke to himself. Pressing on, he was eventually met by a set of steel bars. Aster glanced back, the fire had completely engulfed his cell by now. "More than enough." He laughed before drawing upon the inferno to create three more lances to add to his vector. Whilst the lances sliced through the steel, he used the vector to pull the weakened bars away before walking through the now-cleared obstacle. He was greeted by another door at the end of the corridor, he could see light permeating through the gaps and could hear others beyond it. He decimated the door with his constructs then launched himself through, ready to attack who ever stood beyond it.

Just as the voice had said, he was met by the sight of other escaped convicts as well as a security robot. He laughed maniacally at the scene. "Honey! I'm home!"

---

@Hjalti@Marik

Cauliflower laid on the floor of his cold metalic like cell starring at its ceiling as if it was an endless space that went on for eons and stopped once his heart begin to beat louder from how endless and vast the space was upon his site. "Collins." He whispered as his eyes seemed to be locked on the ceiling. His facial expression more grim as if the lifeless housing that was as metallic as the floor disrespected him. "Does thy believe thee can mock such a creature of my caliber!" He shouted slamming his fist against the metallic flooring a brief noise echoing amongst his room. Of course his anger wasn't directed to the ceiling, but to the lifeless trash cans that walked the halls of the prison.

His anger was for those so called heroes, no! Mankind it's self. Cauliflower gritted his teeth as his current situation taunted him more and more each day. Served slop by a garbage bin, forced to live in the conditions of a criminal for just actions. "Does the predator not act in it's own manner when it prays on it's pray!? Does the naked ape not be judge for the murder of a lesser, no weaker species! Why must thine actions be faced with consequences when I acted as a predator to it's pray!?" He shouted towards the sky still on his back. Even though his cell negates the use of his magical abilities he still has the basic senses at his use. The sound of lifeless and heavy footsteps whispered in Cauliflower's ears.

He leaned up slowly as the footsteps became less distant and the clinking sound that was released from each step more louder than the last. "Tis quite a view to see the lesser serve the royal!" He shouted in laughter as the robot dropped his food tray within his cell and walked away unfazed by Cauliflower's psychotic-ness due to the lack of emotion. Cauliflower looked at his empty tray that only held an envelop. "Do thou believe thy is a jokester! Tell me thy joke so I can share in the giggle!" He grabbed onto the bars of his cell violently. Then there was a faint sound coming from within the envelope. Cauliflower opened the envelope and listened in on the voice that introduced itself from the small machine.

"Tsk!" He briefly stated sliding the PDA away from him and near his bed. "A day to come where I and an angle as one will be the day of thine death!" He proudly shouted which is probably a basic way of how he speaks. Though he was proud to defy the words of the so called angle he wasn't prepared for the death threat at the end of the transmission and that quickly destroyed any signs of being to great to work with an angle.

Without hesitation he rushed towards the PDA and repeatedly jabbed his thump on the button that agreed Mr. Sinister's offer. "Accept thee Damn it!" He shouted as it worked and part two of the transmission started. He exhaled heavily as he calmed down and listened carefully to the mans words.

"Grand thine ass!" He pouted as he prepared himself for the escape. Once he heard the plans he was already staring at the elevator to make sure to get a good look at his target. Before he knew it his cell door opened and he was free. He stepped out inhaling heavily as he stretched and examined his environment. "I'm not the only mayhem raiser to be realsed from their imprisonment." Cauliflower decided to let the others take care of the robots and get to this boss level by himself. After all this angle guy wasn't really gonna believe a bunch of 'selfish' villains would work together if they were simply told so. Cauliflower attempted to break off into a sprint but was tackled instantly by a robot.

Its heavy metallic body crushing Cauliflower for a second before it stood and held him in a head lock. "Thine powers aren't fully expired and will return soon, but that doesn't leave me weak for prepared for these altercations!" With a forceful forward flip the robot was flung in the air and onto it's back, the sudden force causing it to release it's grip on Cauliflower. He elbowed the robot greatly damaging its torso. A smirked gather on his face as he dodged the unfazed robot attempt to counter attack. It was now paralyzed from the waist down and unable to move as fast as before but was still somehow mobile. Its rushed Cauliflower but was caught by him as he held it within a tight head lock quickly snapping its neck. Sounds of failing electronic systems and fuses giving up or pumping electricity could be heard as the robot went limb. Cauliflower began to run but was stopped short by to more robot guards. It seems the so called guardian angles trails weren't gonna be as easy as Cauliflower thought.

@Queentze@Slendy@Kalas@Hjalti@Marik

Donny was walkin' the Green Mile. Normally it takes decades for an execution to commence. Donny had been shoved right to the top after revealing the reservoir where he routinely dumped bodies. Eat your heart out, BTK.

His hands were secured behind his back by a set of cuffs. On either side he was flanked by a large guard carrying an assault rifle. Behind him a priest strode. The guard on the right kept glancing at the nerdy bastard. Despite the imminence of his death, a serene little smile, as faint as a feather, was tacked onto his smooth face. He must have made his peace with God. That, or he belonged in an institution rather than Death Row.

The guard looked ahead with a sigh. His knees were cramping from all of the standing he'd been having to do. Double shifts this week, and not at some prissy desk. He sniffed the air. Something smelled like fucking shit.

*Donny stopped short, the guards whirling towards him and bringing their guns up. Donny's smirk had turned into a grimace.*

"Ayuh... I gone 'n dunnit now boyeehs. Reck'n I'll need new perruh slacks."

"He's fucking shit himself!" the guard on the right said.

"He's bloody soiled himself!" the guard on the left said.

"Son of a bitch bogarted the choco-express right through fucking candyland." the priest said.

Both guards stared at the priest. Another guard came running over.

"The hell is going on here?"

"This sick sack of fucking ogre pricks went and burst the poop piñata."

All three guards and Donny stared at the priest. Donny's eyes suddenly went wide, and he squatted down with a gutteral moan. The Browns had missed the Superbowl, and they were pissed off. The nearest guard took one hand off his rifle and reached out to steady Donny by the shoulder.

*Donny erupted from his crouch with a leap, tucking his knees up to pass his feet over his handcuffs before ramming into the guard that had touched him, twisting into the open arms of the man and clasping both hands about the rifle at the grip and forcing the guard's finger down on the trigger. The other two guards died with eyes that were as large as saucers, drywall dust puffing out from holes in the wall behind them.

Donny shoulder flipped the guard struggling at his back, the hapless man's fingers snapping as the rifle was wrenched from him in the process. The priest watched without expression as Donny emptied the entire gun into the body on the floor.*

"Sawrry fer' this fathuh, but I'll be needin' yuh t'giddouta this sitchation."

With a smug grin Donny walked up to the priest, only to stagger back with blood spraying from a broken nose. The old holy man bounced on his heels, fists raised. Only then did Donny see the tattoo on the priest's forearm.



Donny didn't have time for this Comedy Central bullshit. He pointed over the priest's shoulder with a gasp.

"Behind yeh fathuh! That black man's bouta play tongue twistuh widduh prettuh yawng white girl!"

The priest whirled around, teeth clenched. Nothing there. He then felt a rifle digging into the small of his back.

*It would be on the news. Infamous mafia hitman escaped death row by holding a priest hostage. Once outside they had entered a white Prius with no plates, likely with an accomplice driving, and had escaped before any choppers had arrived on the scene. Not that this had been the only prison break. Others had managed to get loose from the same facility that very day.*

Light. Raw white, brilliant and unyielding. It was eternal, unflinching and oppressive. Thousands upon thousands of light sources were recessed between the diffusing white walls providing a nearly perfect radiant glow. Every item in the abode was the same, transparent, allowing that light to pass through it, not allowing for a single shadow to form. Her shower curtain, transparent plastic. Her couch, an inflatable plastic. Her bed, inflatable plastic. Her table, a single short length of acrylic on acrylic supports.

Sarah Covenry, the infamous "Darkshadow" (It wasn't her fault that Shadow, Umbra and Shade were already taken), was an umbrakinetic. She had the power to generate shadow and darkness and sculpt it. She had no idea how it worked. Several people tried explaining to her that summoning darkness wasn't possible but she could care less. It worked and that was all that mattered to her. Unfortunately, bright lights burned away the dark mists she summoned and so after she'd been captured by a group of heroes the government had placed her here.

They called it, "The White Room".

So the Darkshadow languished on that inflatable transparent plastic couch, holding up a sheaf of plastic sheets that looked much like they belonged to one of those old overhead projectors they used decades ago in schools. Even her books, one of the few things she was allowed were transparent, black ink on gossamer film. She wasn't even afforded the luxury of clothing. Clothing could be used as a veil, weakening the lights, making a shelter where she might summon some darkness without it being burned away by the lights. They'd also taken away her makeup kit after they caught her trying to use nail polish to paint over portions of the glowing walls. At one point, when she'd refused to return the acrylic cutlery they'd simply pumped in sleeping gas. At least she had television. Television, after all, was just projected light. It was completely recessed into the glowing white wall and, unlike regular televisions, displayed a glowing white noise when she attempted to turn if off. Simply put, it never was off.

Sleeping had been difficult at first, since they never shut out the lights. The constant light confused her circadian rhythm but after so many months she had adjusted. Thankfully, through the television and the calls for "Lights out" by the guards she could keep track of the hours and days or she likely would have long ago gone insane. The only deviation was once every few months when a criminal psychologist came in to see how she was doing. Apparently she was doing very well because he'd skipped his last two appointments and she'd not seen anyone since.

It was in the midst of this boundless, endless routine that a single envelope entered through her food slot. At first she wasn't interested at all in the contents. The transparent display was like everything else in her room and seemed useless but the paper! It was such a small thing. She found herself immediately cupping it carefully, tried to shield the envelope from the light with her body and see if she could draw any darkness out of wherever it came from into the envelope. Unfortunately, the paper was just far too thin, like shining a flashlight through your skin at night. She could draw up some wisps of shadow but not enough to do anything with.

It was only then, feeling disappointed that she bothered looking at the small device and pressed the button. Darkness immediately descended and Sarah almost ignored the message for the sheer wonder of it. After so long... Her shadows spilled out into darkness, filling it, and for the first time in more than a year she could feel again.

"-will be flushed causing your death," the device finished, "You have 5 seconds."

"Wait... what?" Sarah asked the device as she looked dumbly at the picture of a fingerprint on the screen of the small device, "Death?"

Unsure what was going on Sarah resolved to stab at the device with her finger, then her thumb, then each of her fingers in turn until something happened that didn't involve death. Then she also resolved to give the device more attention and listened to its message. A wicked smile came across her face. Out? She could get behind that idea.

“Hey?” Ash’s head darted to the side after hearing that booming shout, meeting eyes with one of the other convicts that was intended to escape this cage. The guard looked from the girl to the scruffy looking man and back again, as if trying to process which of the two was the bigger threat in this scenario. Then more and more variables entered the equation and while the guard robot had decided to try and pacify Ashley after all, its target was distracted by all the flashy entrances and brawls taking place without realizing that she’d be entering one herself very soon.

“Jesus, you really fucked tha…” One punch, right to the face; Ashley couldn’t be any more bug-eyed than when the metal fist of that guard collided, sending her falling backwards right onto the hard ground, face first. A moment passed and it seemed as if that blow had knocked the girl out, but her own fist began pounding the ground, while her other hand shakenly cupped her nose, which was broken and now spilling blood. “Shit, shit, fuck, shit, God damn it!” A series of curses escaped Ashley’s now blood covered mouth as she thrashed about on the ground, and while she was in terrible pain, she knew that this was probably the best thing that could have happened.

An observer would notice that the blood almost seemed to have a mind of its own as it trickled down her face, mostly because it moved in an unnatural manner. That is to say at one point, it actually started to defy gravity and crawl up Ash’s face in order to cover more of her flesh. It ran down her neck, covering everything under her orange jumpsuit and eventually appeared running down her arms until they too were covered, almost seeming to look like a pair of gloves. On her face, it formed a mask that covered the upper half of her face and ran down the sides, eventually connecting with the blood that had formed on her neck. This was Krimson, a person that could articulate her blood as easily as one could their fingers.

Speaking of, Ashley’s bloody digits came to a point, almost resembling claws. She returned to her feet and stared down the guard-bot with a clear scowl. There would be hell to pay, but the robot was ready. He threw another punch, but Bailey had the foresight to duck under this one. She countered with a slash of her hand, running her homemade claws across the guards torso; a hit, but it only left red scratch marks. The guard-bot must have detected the slight damage, because it seemed to switch to overdrive; the thing began to throw a flurry of punches, which caused Ashley to do all she could think to do, back away. Her eyes darted to the homeless-esque man that had drawn her attention in the beginning of all this with an expecting gaze. “Wanna give me a hand with this guy?!”

Vagrant

Ben watched as the girl took a blow square to the face from the bot, knocking her to the ground and hard enough that he knew from experience that her nose was probably broken. He glowered for a moment at the bot until, almost as quickly as she'd been knocked down, the girl got back up, blood covering her face and hands creating both claws and some sort of mask that covered the lower half of her face. For a moment it reminded him of those Oni masks you'd see in chinatown stalls.
Either way, two facts dawned on Vagrant; The first was that if this girl or anyone else was locked in here with him, it was for a reason. He had no idea what her powers were and he didn't much care, beyond the fact that she had them. The second realisation was that this girls powers weren't being suppressed. Looking at the walls again, he pressed against them with his right hand, quick and hard. It took a little more effort than he was used to, but when he pulled his hand back, a perfect hand print was recessed into the metal. Apparently the field only didn't extend past the cells. Good.

The girl calling out for some help snapped him back to reality. He had no idea how much of his strength was back or what kind of blows he could handle, so he'd have to take things easy. Looking at the bot, a single, impulsive and violent thought entered his mind.

Kick it.

So he did. As the bot was swinging at the girl in that methodical, robotic manner that all mech-guards seemed to use, Vagrant stalked forward, quickly closing the ten-foot distance between him, the girl and the robot and, as the robot was readying another swing, brought his right foot up, placed it on the torso of the machine and pushed.

It flew back thirty-feet, past a man in a guard uniform smoking a cigarette, until it was stopped suddenly by a metal wall, still operational but needing a moment to reassess the situation.

"A foot works just as well." Ben muttered to the girl. He voice wasn't what you'd call grizzled, more like he was tired. Tired and struggling to sound emotionally invested. It was then that the man in the guard's uniform called something out to them. "You understand what the hell he just said?" he asked the girl as he sized the man up.

"Are they using guards with powers here too? That sounds like something the uppity prick on the PDA might have mentioned."

@Marik@Doc Doctor

@Hjalti@Marik

The bot shot past the man, the after wind blowing his hat off. A shock of orange hair was slicked back lazily over his scalp. His already big eyes widened even further at Vagrant's strength. He was almost like a puppy, an apparently genuine, "Gee wiz mister!" look on his face. Might have been a convincing act had he not been covered in blood.

"Ayuh, thuh jus' maht be. Trah 'n aim thuh othah wayuh next tahm."

-Translation: "Yeah, they just might be. Try and aim the other way next time."

With no effort the man managed to send the droid flying. Just how easy it seemed to be was what surprised Ashley the most. A bewildered look came over her face and she shifted her gaze from the scrappy Übermensch to the wall bound robot. “Damn, nice hit.” Frankly, Ash was just happy she wasn’t on the receiving end on that kick. It was clear that this fight was far from over however, considering that the guard bot still looked operational. If they were lucky, maybe some of its interior electronics got displaced when it crashed into that metal slab of a wall, but that was just wishful thinking more than anything.

No matter. Nobody ever said that breaking out of a prison made for super criminals would be easy. Finding her claws inadequate, Ashley retracted them and made something a bit more viable, a slugger fit for the baseball diamond. With a demented smirk, the girl muttered, “Batter up.” And scanned the area for potential targets. She came to notice the actual flesh and blood individual in an Illwood Correctional uniform and gave her already red lips a lick at the sight of fresh blood covering his flesh. Daydreams of caving his skull in, spattering his brains on the walkway, and licking the residue from his corpse littered her mind. It had been so long since she’d had a good drink after all.

Only when her companion mentioned that this man may have powers did Ashley consider that maybe attacking the guard outright might be a bad idea. “Maybe he has tricks up his sleeve, but maybe he’s just average? What do you think, I doubt he’d be able to take us both down…”

The first thing Ben heard was the incomprehensible ramblings of the security guard. Following that it was Redhead asking him his opinion on said guard. He was halfway tempted to punch the guy until he couldn't talk like that anymore when something caught his interest; The guard was covered in blood.

"Fuck." Ben replied, barely turning to look at the red-haired girl, "I think he's Scottish, but he's covered in blood and not real worried about you and me, so either he got enough power to not care or he one of us. Your call." The tone of Vagrant's voice didn't betray any concern, rather he sounded more impatient than anything. As if he had better things to do and didn't really want to deal with what was happening at that moment.

Ben looked at the bloody Louisville Slugger Ashley was now sporting and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Why don't you hit him with that and see what happens?" Just as the robo-guard started to remove itself from the wall.

@Marik@Doc Doctor

[DOUBLE POST. IGNORE.]

@Hjalti@Marik

Just as the guard bot freed itself from the wall, a cracked hole erupted from its narrow visor as the corridor reverberated with the sharp bang of a gun. White smoke billowed out of the visor as the machine slumped to the floor, the processor ruined. Donny's standard issue pistol slipped back into its holster. When had he pulled it out? His center of weight and posture hadn't moved with his viper-fast hand, making his movement like that of a phantom. It didn't seem like he had even looked where he was aiming. His complacent, knowing expression hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Nahmal, supuh, gud, bad-uh. Ahm whatevuh yuh want muh t'be. Foh thuh right praaahs..."

Translation: "Normal, super, good, bad. I'm whatever you want me to be. For the right price..."