Cell Block L-1
Poncho let off a light growl as John managed to deflect his blow. He was sure that was a guaranteed hit! Of course, afterwards, both took a small moment to put out the flames covering them; Poncho's manufactured arms were indeed getting a bit smaller due to the encroaching flames so he patted them on his, well, poncho, to douse the flames. As he got back into a fighting stance though, John let up, instead giving the unarmed demon a look and asking him for assistance. The demon looked at him with a sneer for a moment, before feeling the vibrations within his feet, corroborating the crusader's tale.
"Your ragtag group is going against the Warden? I
suppose I can help. As long as you don't pump anymore poison into me like a bunch of amateurs." He deigned, particular menace being flung at V with his last line. "What the hell are you guys even doing here anyways? Not a lot of humans just run around and rebel against guys like Nefas."
“To summarize it up? Portal demon out of hell." John responded. The demon seemed dumbfounded for a moment, before shrugging it off with a smug look. "I'm sure that'll work out well. Just help me beat down this bastard so I can get the hell out of here."
With that, Poncho, the King, and presumably John, joined the rioting prisoners from Cellblock L-2 to bumrush Nefas. Many would be hurt. A lot. But Nefas would probably end up worse for wear. Or double-dead.
Hallway
Speaking of Nefas, he was currently staring down three formidable combatants, with many on the way. Many men would take this time to become more determined, more somber, or at the least more fearful. Nefas did what he did best though. He got mad. In a tone barely above a whisper, so laced with venom and barely subdued rage it seemed even the cambion itself could barely handle it, Nefas muttered
"What the fuck are you all doing out of your cells."With that little as a warning, Nefas slammed his left foot onto Old N's encroaching claws. Should it have collided with carapace, a sickening crack would ring out, followed swiftly by another if Nefas was allowed to continue on the other claw. Either way, his feet wouldn't be getting snapped for long. While dishing out this attack, Nefas prepared his discipline for the other two. A piece of cement was ripped from the wall and flung directly at Grog's head, less to harm and more to impede his aim. Nefas intended on getting closer to the other cambion. There was a certain territoriality and rivalry that emanated off of Nefas when he stared at Deprave, like he was a funhouse mirror of Nefas's darker self. And he hated that.
Leaping over the large crab-demon, Nefas lunged at Deprave, hand in a strict chopping stance. He reared back and, once close enough, extended his arm. This motion would pierce right through Deprave's collar bone, most-likely even if he blocked. Grog could likely dodge with the cocktail of drugs in his system, but aiming would be difficult with the enemy probably partly inside Deprave. Old N, if he could bother getting up and had managed to avoid losing both of his pincers, was in the best position to attack certainly. Either way, help was coming. If they could just survive a bit longer, they may just pull through.
Vents, Again
Kritch would probably consider himself very lucky the first moment he peered through his tiny peephole in the vent. There was only on guard there, simply holding a tablet and armed with a walkie-talkie and what appeared to be a cattle-prod at his belt. Very soon though, Kritch would consider himself less so. The guard, know mostly as Head guard around these parts, scanned the area around Betty's block. "I know you're there!" He yelled out, though it wasn't in any particular direction.
"Why would I be anywhere else? You haven't snuck me my daily drink yet!" replied someone from inside Betty's cell, presumably Betty herself. The head guard face-palmed, before continuing. "We have motion sensors in those vents. You're near here. The sensors before here went off, the one's after didn't. Come out now, before I start breaking down these vents!"
Though the man didn't look intimidating, there was an air about him that portrayed his unique skills. He was the kind of guy who played smart, played dirty, and played with forces way bigger than he ought to be able to handle. If Kritch wanted to get Betty, he'd have to be smarter, dirtier, and be even more of an underdog. He had two of those down certainly. Time would tell if the third was true too.
Member
Boreas