Serenity Down- IC Thread

[LuckycoolHawk9]

Cameron looked at him and noticed the surge that was in Longshot's eyes. He assumed that meant something good was about to happen for once in his life too and he looked around.

He listened and choose to remain silent, less face the Sith Lord's rage.

He looked at the fact that the power seemed to be returning to the prisoners here before him that were indeed powerless. That meant it would be easier for them to escape this prison for the time being.

It was at that exact moment, something dawned on Cameron, something unsettling indeed. He had no powers to speak of.

Which meant helping them might get him killed, oh joy.

@Ringmaster @Cromartie Sarkissian

There was something different about the area now Peter Quill had this strange feeling. " I think those power dampners are down . . . which means all hell is about to go down . . . and me without any of my gear, just my luck," he muttered. He needed to get his gear back and more importantly, his quad blasters from the locked vault.

@Thuro 116 Pendragon @Cromartie Sarkissian

 

[Thuro 116 Pendragon]

Crichton didn't need to be told that the power dampeners were down, he could feel the power coursing back in a tide he didn't even stand a chance of fighting back.

I've waited for you, I've waited for you
I've had so many changes I could never go through
I pause and look back, and then I lose track
I spent so much time that I'm never getting back

It was all returning, the second price that he'd paid to save the other him. His mind, his sanity, his freedom. His own personal Aurora Chair over and over again, never ending agony of seeing all and being able to do scant about it. The other him could level a planet or a solar system or even an entire universe with his abilities, but this was so much more, and so much worse. He could sense the flow of time itself, the fates and destinies of those around him, the paths their lives would take. The child, moderately important to the fate of the universe, but still a key player. The man, her older brother, important himself, but in a different way, his destiny diverging from her own.

The Count, completely unimportant, a bug on the cosmic freeway of destiny, it not mattering in the slightest if Crichton reached out and ended him this very moment. His line would end, his thread in the tapestry of creation going blank without the slightest budge or ripple from the other threads. He was all alone, just like this Crichton. The other him had lines running into the deepest reaches of the universe, across time and space itself, but all this Crichton was was the Weaver behind the Woven. The lonely man.

The Kyln wasn't a prison, it was a home for the man that couldn't outrun his fate.

Crichton looked at the Count, and for a moment he didn't see a melodramatic Brit that ruined lives, he saw one of the Moya crew. One of those frelling psychopaths that has become like a family to him, that embarked with him to save the universe from a war, the war. The Peacekeeper Wars had been averted in the end, and what was coming would be averted, one soul at a time. One Lost Soul at a time. That was one of the few things he could understand about his counterpart, the desire to save world instead of see it burn as was his due.

Crichton reached out to the Count with his bloodstained hands, the unthinkable welling inside his heart, needing to be released thus moment before Crichton lost his way.

In this world it's kill or be killed

Crichton's hand stretched towards the despicable monster, enacting the terrible purpose in his heart.

I just can't understand

His hand curled up, offering him a hand out of the darkness he'd built for himself.

In this world it's kill or be killed, I just can't understand.

"Are you coming?"

@Cromartie Sarkissian​

 

[Mighty Roman]

He could feel the door of his cell clattering open. The old man's eyes snapped open as the metal crashed open. He was used to waiting. He had been tempted to put his body into a physic coma upon his arrival here, but instead decided that observing the prisoners would be a better use of his time. But time, oddly enough, he felt, was always something that he'd been lacking. The man was old, far older than a majority of the prisoners here--but the average eye would be unable to tell his true age. Few would believe that this man had lived for hundreds of years through multiple lives-multiple bodies even.
His eyes shone with determination, a drive that a nearly a thousand years of travel through time and space had honed. He remembered his capture here. He remembered his arrival in this godforsaken dimension. His time machine ripped through the vortex, the cloister bell echoing ominously, signalling danger, death.

Yet he had survived. He could not die. Would not die. He had fought for survival throughout the ages, evading capture after capture. But why did that almost familiar feeling strike his twin hearts once again? The feeling of an ending, a life cut short, a new one approaching, like the swivelling headlights of an oncoming train?

But such ponderings were for the other dreadful denizens of this establishment. The old man stepped out of his cell. He could sense the panic, the fear, so familiar. He pulled his coat tighter around his neck, as if the panic of the others was a palpable chill. He stamped forward across the prison floor, striding forward, determinedly. Was it him, or was this body slower than he remembered? Had the years condemned it already?

He could see two people up ahead. One was a frail man, beaten abused. The other was younger, stronger. He offered a hand in assistance. The old man grimaced. Humans. Irrevocable, unexplainable. Survivors nonetheless. Little bought the old man shame, but the way that these frail beings had outlived his previous forms so many times was frustrating to say the least. Time would surely strike them down eventually, like wheat in a field, and if he did not act quickly, he would suffer the same fate.

But for now, he would watch, a couple of paces away from the two. No matter how this situation played out, he would be able to use it to his advantage....
@Thuro 116 Pendragon @Cromartie Sarkissian

 

[Mighty Roman]

"You're on your own, I'm afraid. Any misplaced 70's over-masculinity has no place in the brave new world."
And with that, Reed slithered his way through the corridors. There was no time to lose. The sooner that he was away from the masses, the better. He didn't care for their fate. He cared about Earth. Improving it, remaking it. He stretched his body around the prison away from Sarah Conner and her associates with no regrets. After all, they surely couldn't stop a superior mind of his calibre. Bullets alone would be completely ineffectual for a start.
While he was moving, desperately searching for an exit, he ran through the scans he had taken from Sarah's group.
Arthur Centino: Longshot. Mutant. Convict. Murderer. Listed amongst the dead in the Ultimatum Wave.
Sebastian Shaw. Cultist. Leader of the Hellfire Club. Listed amongst the dead in another Mutant incident.
Both were dead in his universe. And both were irrelevant in this one. But where were these energy readings coming from. A concentrated force of kinetic energy, concentrated into a human body.
If it was not a member of Sarah's group, they could at least have information on who it was.

He snaked back towards them, wrapping his elasticated body around Sarah, slowly crushing her, like a Boa Constrictor. But he waned her alive. For now.
He found that energy source. Shaw.
Sebastian Shaw, you're coming with me. Move, or she dies, and neither of us wants that.
@Cromartie Sarkissian

 

[Cromartie Sarkissian]

Crichton didn't need to be told that the power dampeners were down, he could feel the power coursing back in a tide he didn't even stand a chance of fighting back.

I've waited for you, I've waited for you
I've had so many changes I could never go through
I pause and look back, and then I lose track
I spent so much time that I'm never getting back

It was all returning, the second price that he'd paid to save the other him. His mind, his sanity, his freedom. His own personal Aurora Chair over and over again, never ending agony of seeing all and being able to do scant about it. The other him could level a planet or a solar system or even an entire universe with his abilities, but this was so much more, and so much worse. He could sense the flow of time itself, the fates and destinies of those around him, the paths their lives would take. The child, moderately important to the fate of the universe, but still a key player. The man, her older brother, important himself, but in a different way, his destiny diverging from her own.

The Count, completely unimportant, a bug on the cosmic freeway of destiny, it not mattering in the slightest if Crichton reached out and ended him this very moment. His line would end, his thread in the tapestry of creation going blank without the slightest budge or ripple from the other threads. He was all alone, just like this Crichton. The other him had lines running into the deepest reaches of the universe, across time and space itself, but all this Crichton was was the Weaver behind the Woven. The lonely man.

The Kyln wasn't a prison, it was a home for the man that couldn't outrun his fate.

Crichton looked at the Count, and for a moment he didn't see a melodramatic Brit that ruined lives, he saw one of the Moya crew. One of those frelling psychopaths that has become like a family to him, that embarked with him to save the universe from a war, the war. The Peacekeeper Wars had been averted in the end, and what was coming would be averted, one soul at a time. One Lost Soul at a time. That was one of the few things he could understand about his counterpart, the desire to save world instead of see it burn as was his due.

Crichton reached out to the Count with his bloodstained hands, the unthinkable welling inside his heart, needing to be released thus moment before Crichton lost his way.

In this world it's kill or be killed

Crichton's hand stretched towards the despicable monster, enacting the terrible purpose in his heart.

I just can't understand

His hand curled up, offering him a hand out of the darkness he'd built for himself.

In this world it's kill or be killed, I just can't understand.

"Are you coming?"

@Cromartie Sarkissian​

"Coming?" The Count stared back, bearing the face of a child. There he was, cradling a broken nose, trying not to snort up his own blood, and now he was being offered a way out by the very person who had inflicted all this pain onto him? What an unusual turn of events....

The drug dealer took a deep breath in through his mouth, tasting all the foul airs of the Kyln as he did so. He had been rotting in that pit for almost 3 years now, trying and failing to make connections. His name wasnt worth a damn anymore, and he was far too far away from Starling to call in any favors. Perhaps this was his final chance, a last effort for freedom...or to die trying. One final glance around the tin box was taken in, before the reply was concluded
"As long as I do not loose any more appendages, I'm in" Who knows? Maybe on the way out he could accidentally take out John's nose as well

"You're on your own, I'm afraid. Any misplaced 70's over-masculinity has no place in the brave new world."
And with that, Reed slithered his way through the corridors. There was no time to lose. The sooner that he was away from the masses, the better. He didn't care for their fate. He cared about Earth. Improving it, remaking it. He stretched his body around the prison away from Sarah Conner and her associates with no regrets. After all, they surely couldn't stop a superior mind of his calibre. Bullets alone would be completely ineffectual for a start.
While he was moving, desperately searching for an exit, he ran through the scans he had taken from Sarah's group.
Arthur Centino: Longshot. Mutant. Convict. Murderer. Listed amongst the dead in the Ultimatum Wave.
Sebastian Shaw. Cultist. Leader of the Hellfire Club. Listed amongst the dead in another Mutant incident.
Both were dead in his universe. And both were irrelevant in this one. But where were these energy readings coming from. A concentrated force of kinetic energy, concentrated into a human body.
If it was not a member of Sarah's group, they could at least have information on who it was.

He snaked back towards them, wrapping his elasticated body around Sarah, slowly crushing her, like a Boa Constrictor. But he waned her alive. For now.
He found that energy source. Shaw.
Sebastian Shaw, you're coming with me. Move, or she dies, and neither of us wants that.
@Cromartie Sarkissian

Sarah's groans of pain were enough to make Longshot sick to the stomach. The coiling was hurting him just as much as it was hurting her; the dampening field going down was his fault; if the stretching scumbag did kill his friend, the blood would be on his hands. With any sort of luck, the Maker would suffer a sudden heart attack, or maybe a brain aneurysm before he could do any real harm, but the Mutant wasn't about to take his chances.
Lady Luck was fickle after all.

Once the brief moment of silent terror had slipped from Longhshot's being, he sprung into action, his rage boiling over. He extended his fingernails like knives, intent of dealing whatever damage he could with his limited strength
"Let go of her, you latex shi--" His bitter cries were cut off almost as soon as they left his mouth, Shaw interjecting once again. His words word reserved beyond all reason, only confirming all assumptions that the former head of the Helfire club was less than human

"Now-Now, Longshot. There is no need to get your knickers in a twist"

The Mutant slowly made his was towards the entwined fighters, unshaken by both Connor's fitting of shouting and fighting and Richard's threats. Both were as empty to him as his own heart.

"Little man..." Shaw muttered "Let's see how long it takes to snap you like a rubber band..."

Between heartbeats Sebastien's true power rocketed to the surface, surging through his body like a bubbling acid. Oh, the very presence of the new energy felt like it was enough to burst through his skin, engulfing the entire facility in its mass

Yet, it did not

It remained contained, deep in his core upon command. If strength was a beast, he had long since tamed it. The monster had not lost its ferocity in its captivity, however- it was simply waiting for its freedom...waiting just like him

Channeling the spirit of madness, the Mutant leaped forward with a speed enough to make a panther weep, clasping onto the scientist with strength enough to shatter mountains. The kinetic energy was finally at a point, focused entirely on the freeing of Connor and the death of Richards. A single tug on the rubber would send the man snapping out errect, stretched out crestless like a freshly pressed bedsheet. As Sarah came clambering to the floor, Longshot rushing to her aid, the Maker became putty in his hands

And soon, Richards would be ready to meet his

A might fist raised the dangling body above Shaw's head, swinging it around as if he was in hammer throw contest.

Around
And Around
And Around

Maybe there was enough room in the cell to swing a scientist

Around
Around
Around

Six rotations strong and the momentum nearly took Shaw off his feet. Time to let go- time to get that gold medal

As the final circulation came around, the scientist slipped from Sebastian's fingers like a baloon from a child's hands, his body spiraling upwards. Within milliseconds Reed was outside of the cell, gaining more and more and more speed.

The sound of his still breathing body crashing into the Kyln doors was enough to wake the dead, let alone all the prisoners

"Ladies and Gentlemen"
Shaw growled, watching the entire wall implode around Richard's elasticated mess
"The doors are open!"

-----------------------------------------
With the doors gone and Reed's consciousness slowly returning, three paths shone out of the edge of the prison

One seemed to reveal more cells, containing more and more rowdy prisoners yearning for freedom...Maybe Hoban could be in one of these cells?

The next one would lead downwards, towards a space lift. Said lift would transport the convicts to the Confiscated Assets room, an area filled with all the confiscated equipment you could ever want. Whether its your own tech or someone else's, this is the go-to area for all things dangerous...even that black box....
It would redoubtably he heavily guarded though...

The lift could also take passengers down towards the ship hangar. Now, this place would be really heavily guarded. But, if you want to escape....

Within seconds the guards will be upon you...so make your choice; stick with your gang or make your own path


Cast
The Maker/ Reed Richards- @Mighty Roman
Index- @Thuro 116 Pendragon
River Tam @CookieMonster
Peter Quill/ Starlord and Cameron Goodkin @LuckycoolHawk9
Kiande Thei-de and Shaitan @Ringmaster
Spike Spiegel and a Xenomorph @T.O.M.
Mikoto Misaka and Misaki Shokuhou @Verite
Battler Ushiromiya @Gibbons
Momoyo Kawakami @Kaykay​

 

[LuckycoolHawk9]

Peter Quill looked at the three pathes that he had now that everything was fine. He could easily go and get his weapons, but that meant dealing with the guards, he could also go and rile up some more prisoners, but that would get Last Order hurt. He looked at the little girl. " Weapons, escape or making a riot?" He asked her.

Cameron wasn't about to be left alone and defenseless. He needed to go and get a weapon, but he didn't want to get killed. " Maybe we should go and get some weapons before we escape, they did take the box," he said to the Sith Lord.

@Mighty Roman
@Thuro 116 Pendragon
@CookieMonster
@Ringmaster
@T.O.M.
@Verite
@Gibbons
@Kaykay

 

[Thuro 116 Pendragon]

"'MISAKA thinks we should go free the prisoners and get help.' MISAKA says firmly as MISAKA tries to make a decision for the group."

Crichton shook his head, dismissing the idea out of hand. "Not happening kid. Our powers will do for now."

Last Order leaned forward, exaggeratedly shaking her first at Crichton without any heat behind it. "'MISAKA is a level three. MISAKA has no real powers. MISAKA can barely manipulate an electronic lock without the help of the other MISAKAs.' MISAKA says as MISAKA tries to explain to the man."

Crichton waved her off, uninterested. "Not your power kiddo, mine. I may not pack the punch of the other one, but I'm still a heavy hitter."

He looked around at, taking in the position of the Count, Last Order, and Quill. "You guys are gonna wanna step back."

Assuming they did, Crichton lowered his head and began chanting.

"I am the Bone of my Reality."
"Space is my body and Time is my blood."
"I have molded over a thousand futures."
"Unknown to my friends."
"Nor my enemies."
"I have withstood loss to create many timelines."
"Yet those hands will never find peace."
"So I pray--"
"UNLIMITED TIME WORKS!"

At the climax of his chant, Crichton thrust his hand into the air, expectant of the feeling of wormhole power to slam back into him. Surprisingly, Crichton didn't turn into a Super Saiyan god at the pure epicness of the chant. Instead, he felt just the same as before, his wormhole powers lingering at the base of his mind, uncontrollable and dangerous.

"Thanks Archer." :|

From her place at Quill's side, Last Order looked up at the space hero and asked in a quiet voice, "'Is he alright?' MISAKA asks as MISAKA tries to ascertain the man's grip on reality."

Crichton's reaction was roughly the equivalent of a blushing chibi anime girl. :|

"Be quiet. So, looks like we're starting a riot." That last part was some at Quill, trying to move past the awkwardness of the failed chant.

@The Silver Paladin @Cromartie Sarkissian​

 

[LuckycoolHawk9]

Quill nodded in agreement as he was about ready to cause another riot, it had worked beautifully last time and there was no telling what it can mean.

He paused when the man disagreed with him and he wondered what sort of powers Crichton had that would help them.

Peter Quill looked at Last Order and wondered what she meant that she was only a level three on things. She had taken down the Count all by herself and that was some real power even if she was denying.He somehow needed to figure this out before something bad happened and someone died.


Quill raised an eyebrow uncertain what he was talking about and decided to look at what this man claimed to be his true power and he got nothing.

Quill stepped back as he didn't want to be glowing or having to nearly die by something, it would be nice to live for once in his life.

He wasn't sure why but he wasn't sure what to make of what he was doing.

What the fuck did that even mean?

That didn't sound like something possible to him.


Well, that was a lot of damn futures to infleunce.
Well duh, why tell your friends?
Most people prefered not to be used according to his old friends and himself.

He really needed to loosen up, maybe he could watch some Kevin Bacon.
Well if you are creating that many things, how was peace possible?
Ugh, religion was so overrated, he preferred his own rules.

Somehow he doubted it did.

Quill tilted his head looking for something to be there, some of this unlimited power nonsense but there seemed to be nothing there in the slightess. He wasn't cool and he hadn't done anything interesting and his attention was waving, he had thought this would be a good alternative to making a riot to get their weapons, this man was kind of funny indeed.

He wondered who Archer was.

Quill tilted his head back and turned to Last Order. " I honestly don't know, but that was interesting for a little bit, too bad that it didn't work," he said, as he couldn't phrase it any nicer.

He wasn't about to say a damn thing about how ridculous he looked, he was sure the Count might.

" Well, it worked the last time and we got the weapons back and almost everyone lived throughout, so odds are good these idiots kept the old system in place," he said.

@Thuro 116 Pendragon ( Not even close to my username) @Cromartie Sarkissian

Cameron waited in awkward silence. " That or we could start a riot, or I could shut up," he added.

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Ringmaster

 

[Ringmaster]

"......"

".......Kiande."

"Ahahahaha!"

The Yautja clenched his fists and cracked his knuckles, letting out an undulating howl as he charged for the cells. The intent to enhance the riot and break open every prisoner. Shaitan watched him bound away, before saying idly to Cameron.

"Kiande and I share a special relationship. In exchange for his services, he has the right to hunt me with my consent every end of a standard year. If I win, it happens all over again. If I lose? I die. Its a very thin wire, but his abilities are worth it. Go with him. He'll keep you safe."

He then calmly, walked in the direction of the lift to grab his equipment back.

@Cromartie Sarkissian @LuckycoolHawk9​

 

[Cromartie Sarkissian]

"'MISAKA thinks we should go free the prisoners and get help.' MISAKA says firmly as MISAKA tries to make a decision for the group."

Crichton shook his head, dismissing the idea out of hand. "Not happening kid. Our powers will do for now."

Last Order leaned forward, exaggeratedly shaking her first at Crichton without any heat behind it. "'MISAKA is a level three. MISAKA has no real powers. MISAKA can barely manipulate an electronic lock without the help of the other MISAKAs.' MISAKA says as MISAKA tries to explain to the man."

Crichton waved her off, uninterested. "Not your power kiddo, mine. I may not pack the punch of the other one, but I'm still a heavy hitter."

He looked around at, taking in the position of the Count, Last Order, and Quill. "You guys are gonna wanna step back."

Assuming they did, Crichton lowered his head and began chanting.

"I am the Bone of my Reality."
"Space is my body and Time is my blood."
"I have molded over a thousand futures."
"Unknown to my friends."
"Nor my enemies."
"I have withstood loss to create many timelines."
"Yet those hands will never find peace."
"So I pray--"
"UNLIMITED TIME WORKS!"

At the climax of his chant, Crichton thrust his hand into the air, expectant of the feeling of wormhole power to slam back into him. Surprisingly, Crichton didn't turn into a Super Saiyan god at the pure epicness of the chant. Instead, he felt just the same as before, his wormhole powers lingering at the base of his mind, uncontrollable and dangerous.

"Thanks Archer." :|

From her place at Quill's side, Last Order looked up at the space hero and asked in a quiet voice, "'Is he alright?' MISAKA asks as MISAKA tries to ascertain the man's grip on reality."

Crichton's reaction was roughly the equivalent of a blushing chibi anime girl. :|

"Be quiet. So, looks like we're starting a riot." That last part was some at Quill, trying to move past the awkwardness of the failed chant.

@The Silver Paladin @Cromartie Sarkissian​

"Bravo! Bravo! Good show!" The Count interjected, his words dripping with sarcasm. "I am blown away by your incredible power!" A snigger escaped his lips, disguised as a cough; the only strength this man had, in Vertigo's bloodshot eyes, was his brute strength; such an ability would be negated the moment they acquired any weapons.
"Come on, then! Einstein agogo!" ​

Quill nodded in agreement as he was about ready to cause another riot, it had worked beautifully last time and there was no telling what it can mean.

He paused when the man disagreed with him and he wondered what sort of powers Crichton had that would help them.

Peter Quill looked at Last Order and wondered what she meant that she was only a level three on things. She had taken down the Count all by herself and that was some real power even if she was denying.He somehow needed to figure this out before something bad happened and someone died.


Quill raised an eyebrow uncertain what he was talking about and decided to look at what this man claimed to be his true power and he got nothing.

Quill stepped back as he didn't want to be glowing or having to nearly die by something, it would be nice to live for once in his life.

He wasn't sure why but he wasn't sure what to make of what he was doing.

What the fuck did that even mean?

That didn't sound like something possible to him.


Well, that was a lot of damn futures to infleunce.
Well duh, why tell your friends?
Most people prefered not to be used according to his old friends and himself.

He really needed to loosen up, maybe he could watch some Kevin Bacon.
Well if you are creating that many things, how was peace possible?
Ugh, religion was so overrated, he preferred his own rules.

Somehow he doubted it did.

Quill tilted his head looking for something to be there, some of this unlimited power nonsense but there seemed to be nothing there in the slightess. He wasn't cool and he hadn't done anything interesting and his attention was waving, he had thought this would be a good alternative to making a riot to get their weapons, this man was kind of funny indeed.

He wondered who Archer was.

Quill tilted his head back and turned to Last Order. " I honestly don't know, but that was interesting for a little bit, too bad that it didn't work," he said, as he couldn't phrase it any nicer.

He wasn't about to say a damn thing about how ridculous he looked, he was sure the Count might.

" Well, it worked the last time and we got the weapons back and almost everyone lived throughout, so odds are good these idiots kept the old system in place," he said.

@Thuro 116 Pendragon ( Not even close to my username) @Cromartie Sarkissian

Cameron waited in awkward silence. " That or we could start a riot, or I could shut up," he added.

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Ringmaster

"Good good! Keeping people alive is one of the best things anyone can do!" No, he had no faith in that statement; it was a lie in every sense of the word. If people decided to live forever, what value would Vertigo have? If wines were measured by their age, and men by their merits, Vertigo was measured by the number of deaths that had came to pass prior to its selling; the more souls that left the world before the chemical substance left the lab the better.

Of course! Vertigo! If they had taken all of his equipment upon his arrest, then there would be a healthy supply of the favorite the narcotic just lying around! He had to go back and get it...HE HAD TO! In the mean time, however, he had no choice but stick with the crowd...the kid, the pirate and the nose-breaker...if he had any hope of getting out alive

The simple slip-slap of wet feet against concrete marked his exit, the next wing of the prison in sight...
------------------------------------

The Second Cells
The Second Cell block varied greatly from the first, taking a more advanced, almost futurist coat of paint. There were hundreds upon hundreds of cells, each stretching out as far as the eye could see, as if they were part of an infinite corridor. Glass doors marked the front wall of each room, providing each onlooker with a clear picture of the individuals inside. These must have been the special cells, made not for dangerous criminals, but witness protection.

One specific figure, kneeling close to his window, captured the attention of all present
"Oh, Man, am I glad to see you!"
His voice echoed greatly around the cell, reaching the ears of MISAKA's crew as if the cry had been made from under water
"MISAKA! You were on the ship with me! You helped me!" He banged his blooded palm against the glass, still stained with the dried red-brown fluids that had escaped his gut while impaled on the ship
"Its Hoban!"

Hoban's eyes seemed hollowed, indented deeply into his face by a starvation of sleep. It was almost as if his face had aged by a decade or two
"You gotta get me outa here! It was a set up- all of it! The Serenity, Wesker's death, the Ravager even being there...It was all a set up; and I can prove it!"

A close inspection of the corridor would reveal a control panel hanging from the wall. It seemed far older than the rest of the room, uncannily so. It was as if it had been pulled from a steam punk novel rather than the Special ward of the Kyln. A Victorian style phone receiver rested on top of the device, a thick coat of dust furthering the contrast.

The device was most likely designed as an evacuation method; the receiver could be used to broadcast messages across the entire prison, alerting anyone and everyone to whatever messages you wanted to put out. If one was to try to use it to rally troops from across the Kyln, it would most likely prove effective, at the cost of any stealth- guards from miles around would be detected to your escape, not just the ones within earshot of the explosion. The lack of cameras in the area would allow the crew to use the device to open up any cells they chose too, but at the cost of being unable to tell the freed prisoners or witnesses of what they needed them to do- and what rioting would be caused if witnesses were released into a pit of angry crooks? So much to consider, and so little time...

@LuckycoolHawk9 @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Mighty Roman

The Equipment locker

The elevator reached the bottom of its select path with a loud clank, sending shock waves through the Sith Lord's legs. The iron jaw that was the mesh door seemed to part on command, the light of the corridor seeping through like water through a fishing net. The pathway ahead was bright, yet cold, the location residing at the bottom of the ship, far away from its heated core. Circular tunnels seemed to continue on for a seemingly long distance before the storage room was found, only the whirring of the life support accompanying Shiatan in the mean time

"Bugger...it aint 'arf cold down 'ere!" A rough growl slithered out from behind the mesh walls of the storage room, as yet another Nova guard complained about his duties. "Three 'ours a shift in this igloo is 'nuff to make anyone eat their photon blaster, aye Brode?" The overweight Nova called out towards his companion, he legs extended across several boxes of supplies. He was, of course, skiving off his duties.
"Ah see what ya sayin' Gree; its a real drag" The second guard seemed to be rummaging through the latest boxes, completely oblivious to the escapes going on overhead. Brode had no regard for any of the bubble wrap guarding the equipment held within, tearing the majority off with his teeth or fingers. Muuns, as a specie, were natural crooks, raised on a diet of crime and con-art. It was almost instinctual for him to start pinching things, any things, he could get his hands on; the prisoner's assets were no exception
"Ah've tried to tranfa at least 9 tams, but they only seem to----wait!"
His extended fingers seemed to stop mid scurry, freezing in place like an unusual, marble statue. Beads of sweat began to make their way down his enormous forehead, collecting upon his lipped brow and raining into the boxes bellow. He could barely control himself- he had hit the jackpot
"This...This is something..." He could barely speak, his lips quivering with excitement. Leaning backwards, the Muun inspected his catch, raising it to his eye level. Oh, how glorious it was! A diamond in the rough, a jewel among junk! Oh, its silver base seemed to speak to his soul, caressing his heart with he most gentle of touches. Brode's heart began to race, his pulse pounding
"This is it, Gree! Another one of them! A lightsabre!"
The sound of skin slapping against a frozen numb forehead could be heard to those of the most precise ears, as Gree let out a miserable sigh
"Dont get why you like them so much" He moaned, throwing Brode a small leather satchel in response. "Ya already have a green one in that bag of yas; they aint that great- just super swords really. Noone buys 'em anymore, coz aint nobody knows how to use them"
His spirits failing, the Muun's face seemed to sag deep into his collar bone. A snake of a finger reached into said bag, removing his second blade. With the press of a button, the blinding spiral of plazma shot out across the room, igniting the area with a sudden warmth. He followed suit with Shiatan's blade
"HEY!" He argued "Ah've had a bit of practice with electro-staffs and stun stick; Ah think Am quite good wiv 'em"

Despite their equipment, the guard's own stupidity seemed to let them down; now was the perfect time to go do something! All present had a choice; sneak behind the men and make a bid to grab some more tech or armor- the majority of which sat in a box in the corner of the room, a path mostly concealed behind crates- or take then men on head on; if their powers were strong enough.....


@Ringmaster

Mobile Post​

 

[Ringmaster]

"Cut him down."

Little piggish minds. Quick to run to the trough, stealing whatever they wanted. Weak and pathetic, twisted and undone by their greed.

Fodder for Shaitan as he implanted the suggestion to the one holding the lightsaber via mind trick.

If successful, he'd then step out of hiding and point at the back of his target, unleashing sith lightning to attempt to fry his target. A Shadow Guard was never unarmed.

@Cromartie Sarkissian​

 

[Cromartie Sarkissian]

"Cut him down."

Little piggish minds. Quick to run to the trough, stealing whatever they wanted. Weak and pathetic, twisted and undone by their greed.

Fodder for Shaitan as he implanted the suggestion to the one holding the lightsaber via mind trick.

If successful, he'd then step out of hiding and point at the back of his target, unleashing sith lightning to attempt to fry his target. A Shadow Guard was never unarmed.

@Cromartie Sarkissian​

Brode's posture changed completely, his body turning as rigid as a rod. The once youthful smile that clung to his face had shifted, transforming into a much more menacing stare.

"Ya know what, Gree? Am real tired o' this...tired o' you!"

His tone was no longer informal or immature; it was almost a growl now, a sound nobody would expect to escape the lips- was there any of Brode left within him?

"Whatcha doin', Brode...W-Wha's goin' on?"
Gree was terrified, unable to comprehend the sudden change in his old friend. A chubby finger launched itself towards the holster of his blaster, desperate to arm himself against this monsterous transformation-

But it was no use. By the time the numbed fingers of Nova Guard Gree had made contact with the hilt, let alone the trigger, he had been entrapped by the cold embrace of oblivion

A flash of green
A flash of red
A flash of life
A flash of death

Brode's grip on his two weapons seemed to loosen, causing the plasma blade to sink down towards the ground. No matter how much heat the blades brought into the room, the powerful grip fear had around his heart seemed to cool him

And fear, leads to anger...
And anger leads to hate...
And hate leads to suffering...
Fear is the Path to the Dark Side

Brode leaped back, the faint glimmers of the dark side within him guiding him away from the oncoming lightening. He felt a fire inside him, one so strong it would put hell and adrenaline to shame-- it was furry

"GET OUT HERE! NOW! SHOW YOURSELF!!!"

He could only hope that this all was a trick, an illusion...a psychic game...
Otherwise he would have to face killing his only friend...and its consequences

@Ringmaster
​

 

[Ringmaster]

Brode's posture changed completely, his body turning as rigid as a rod. The once youthful smile that clung to his face had shifted, transforming into a much more menacing stare.

"Ya know what, Gree? Am real tired o' this...tired o' you!"

His tone was no longer informal or immature; it was almost a growl now, a sound nobody would expect to escape the lips- was there any of Brode left within him?

"Whatcha doin', Brode...W-Wha's goin' on?"
Gree was terrified, unable to comprehend the sudden change in his old friend. A chubby finger launched itself towards the holster of his blaster, desperate to arm himself against this monsterous transformation-

But it was no use. By the time the numbed fingers of Nova Guard Gree had made contact with the hilt, let alone the trigger, he had been entrapped by the cold embrace of oblivion

A flash of green
A flash of red
A flash of life
A flash of death

Brode's grip on his two weapons seemed to loosen, causing the plasma blade to sink down towards the ground. No matter how much heat the blades brought into the room, the powerful grip fear had around his heart seemed to cool him

And fear, leads to anger...
And anger leads to hate...
And hate leads to suffering...
Fear is the Path to the Dark Side

Brode leaped back, the faint glimmers of the dark side within him guiding him away from the oncoming lightening. He felt a fire inside him, one so strong it would put hell and adrenaline to shame-- it was furry

"GET OUT HERE! NOW! SHOW YOURSELF!!!"

He could only hope that this all was a trick, an illusion...a psychic game...
Otherwise he would have to face killing his only friend...and its consequences

@Ringmaster
​

And from behind him, Shaitan carefully stepping in the blind spot behind his head, a hand would raise.

And Sith Lightning crackle aimed at his head.

A clean kill.... Or not.

But dead they would be regardless if he succeeded.

@Cromartie Sarkissian​

 

[LuckycoolHawk9]

"Good good! Keeping people alive is one of the best things anyone can do!" No, he had no faith in that statement; it was a lie in every sense of the word. If people decided to live forever, what value would Vertigo have? If wines were measured by their age, and men by their merits, Vertigo was measured by the number of deaths that had came to pass prior to its selling; the more souls that left the world before the chemical substance left the lab the better.

Of course! Vertigo! If they had taken all of his equipment upon his arrest, then there would be a healthy supply of the favorite the narcotic just lying around! He had to go back and get it...HE HAD TO! In the mean time, however, he had no choice but stick with the crowd...the kid, the pirate and the nose-breaker...if he had any hope of getting out alive

The simple slip-slap of wet feet against concrete marked his exit, the next wing of the prison in sight...
------------------------------------

The Second Cells
The Second Cell block varied greatly from the first, taking a more advanced, almost futurist coat of paint. There were hundreds upon hundreds of cells, each stretching out as far as the eye could see, as if they were part of an infinite corridor. Glass doors marked the front wall of each room, providing each onlooker with a clear picture of the individuals inside. These must have been the special cells, made not for dangerous criminals, but witness protection.

One specific figure, kneeling close to his window, captured the attention of all present
"Oh, Man, am I glad to see you!"
His voice echoed greatly around the cell, reaching the ears of MISAKA's crew as if the cry had been made from under water
"MISAKA! You were on the ship with me! You helped me!" He banged his blooded palm against the glass, still stained with the dried red-brown fluids that had escaped his gut while impaled on the ship
"Its Hoban!"

Hoban's eyes seemed hollowed, indented deeply into his face by a starvation of sleep. It was almost as if his face had aged by a decade or two
"You gotta get me outa here! It was a set up- all of it! The Serenity, Wesker's death, the Ravager even being there...It was all a set up; and I can prove it!"

A close inspection of the corridor would reveal a control panel hanging from the wall. It seemed far older than the rest of the room, uncannily so. It was as if it had been pulled from a steam punk novel rather than the Special ward of the Kyln. A Victorian style phone receiver rested on top of the device, a thick coat of dust furthering the contrast.

The device was most likely designed as an evacuation method; the receiver could be used to broadcast messages across the entire prison, alerting anyone and everyone to whatever messages you wanted to put out. If one was to try to use it to rally troops from across the Kyln, it would most likely prove effective, at the cost of any stealth- guards from miles around would be detected to your escape, not just the ones within earshot of the explosion. The lack of cameras in the area would allow the crew to use the device to open up any cells they chose too, but at the cost of being unable to tell the freed prisoners or witnesses of what they needed them to do- and what rioting would be caused if witnesses were released into a pit of angry crooks? So much to consider, and so little time...

------------------------------------

Cameron had arrived at the cells somehow at the same time as the other two and he was shocked to see that he wasn't alone in his plan. " Goodkin, you are alive, I am surprised that someone didn't kill you in some horrffic way and that I would never see you again," he said to him, as he looked around to see he was with two strangers and Misaka too. He took a deep breath as he was't about to ruin the moment that he and Quill were having, it was one that was perfect.

Cameron turned and noticed that Hoban seemed to be there and they were right there.
Well, that was vague if Cameron had ever met anything.
It seemed that this place echoed which made it easy for the guards to tell who was talking if they patrolled the area at all too.
Cameron groaned. He may not have been the girl who had saved him, but he had identified the man so no one was killing him and he looked around if he made things much worse than it was before to say.
Who else did they know?
Well, prison wasn't doing good on the man in the slightest, perhaps there was something that aged people in these cells, if so, he didn't want to stay here for long.
There was a certain air of sarcasm that Cameron couldn't help when Hoban stated the obvious. " No, I thought they were angels for putting us in jail, thanks for the information," he dryly said.

Peter Quill looked at the wall and seemed to notice that there was a control pannel on the wall and he knew what that might too, It could probably make announcements for the whole prison to hear and that was certainly good for them to do now since they needed a riot to draw the guards here and distract them from the equipment locker and the landing.

Cameron looked at it. " It seemed that there is a microphone and buttons to unlock the cells. We can release them and keep our stealth for the time being, but it might kill more innocents or we can make an announcement and then hopefully release them," he said. " There is of course the third option to that we can take into account. Someone could release them as another person made an announcement too," he said. Quill was only half-listening and had already started to clear his throat to broadcast. He watched and Cameron nodded as he set all the cells to release.

Peter Quill cleared his throat and pressed the loud speaker button. " Hello, fellow inhabitats of the Kyn, you have all been wrongly put here by the Nova Corps and they want to keep you here, but you don't have too. You can incite chaos with the guards now that your powers are back, you can destroy those who have oppressed, but you must do it together wiuth us and we might all have a chance to escape," he said. He needed a distraction to get into the locker room, but this was his best effort.

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Mighty Roman

 

[Gibbons]

Battler Ushiromiya had decided to go along with the larger group. All of his equipment, if one called it that, was basically just summoned by his magic anyway, so there wasn't anything he needed to retrieve. If his powers were functional, he'd simply call them forth. All there was to it.

Not to mention he just wanted to get out of here. Staying in a prison wasn't the agenda today, or ever. He didn't see any reason to release the other prisoners, but didn't get a say in the matter before Cameron just released them all. There wasn't any proof of their innocence. Jails usually housed criminals, naturally, so letting a bunch of them out seemed like an awful idea. At least it might make their escape slightly easier.

"...Oi, let's get out of here before the riot becomes too big for us to get through. Don't know about you guys, but I'm not planning to get caught after trying to break out! That'd be pretty counterproductive, you know?"

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Mighty Roman @T.O.M. @LuckycoolHawk9

 

[Mighty Roman]

"'MISAKA thinks we should go free the prisoners and get help.' MISAKA says firmly as MISAKA tries to make a decision for the group."

Crichton shook his head, dismissing the idea out of hand. "Not happening kid. Our powers will do for now."

Last Order leaned forward, exaggeratedly shaking her first at Crichton without any heat behind it. "'MISAKA is a level three. MISAKA has no real powers. MISAKA can barely manipulate an electronic lock without the help of the other MISAKAs.' MISAKA says as MISAKA tries to explain to the man."

Crichton waved her off, uninterested. "Not your power kiddo, mine. I may not pack the punch of the other one, but I'm still a heavy hitter."

He looked around at, taking in the position of the Count, Last Order, and Quill. "You guys are gonna wanna step back."

Assuming they did, Crichton lowered his head and began chanting.

"I am the Bone of my Reality."
"Space is my body and Time is my blood."
"I have molded over a thousand futures."
"Unknown to my friends."
"Nor my enemies."
"I have withstood loss to create many timelines."
"Yet those hands will never find peace."
"So I pray--"
"UNLIMITED TIME WORKS!"

At the climax of his chant, Crichton thrust his hand into the air, expectant of the feeling of wormhole power to slam back into him. Surprisingly, Crichton didn't turn into a Super Saiyan god at the pure epicness of the chant. Instead, he felt just the same as before, his wormhole powers lingering at the base of his mind, uncontrollable and dangerous.

"Thanks Archer." :|

From her place at Quill's side, Last Order looked up at the space hero and asked in a quiet voice, "'Is he alright?' MISAKA asks as MISAKA tries to ascertain the man's grip on reality."

Crichton's reaction was roughly the equivalent of a blushing chibi anime girl. :|

"Be quiet. So, looks like we're starting a riot." That last part was some at Quill, trying to move past the awkwardness of the failed chant.

@The Silver Paladin @Cromartie Sarkissian​

The Old man walked towards Crichton and Misaka, his boots thumping heavily against the floor. He hated feeling so weak, this body so old and weary, battered by war throughout so many ages.
As impressive as that display was, I believe that I could perhaps be of more assistance. My ship should be located nearby, but I will need some....younger people to do the legwork. I assume I can rely on you?"
He offered a hand out to Crichton. He was young, powerful, and absolutely insane. He had once been like him, in a lot of ways. Back in Earth's 1970's-or was it the 80's? Back in the UNIT days of mad scientists and invading forces, trying to plunder that primitive world of it's resources. He had always been there. For every single attack. And every single failed invasion. Axons, Sea Devils, The Daleks.

Time had wearied them both, but Crichton had lost none of his strength, nor impulsiveness. He would do nicely for the required tasks.

The tension was broken by a young Dr Richards. As he sat up, head spinning from Shaw's attack, he growled in anger. His visor cracked and fizzed, the glass shattered completely, the targeting system spinning and diving. Useless. He stretched out his arms, cutting a path through the group to the comm system. The solution to their dilemma was obvious.

Activating the Comm system was elementary. Through the tannoy, he said: Prisoners of the Kyln, my name is Dr. Reed Richards. Now that you're all out and about, I have something I'd like you to do. First to reach the Comm room, will be able to escape in the Transport ship we have arranged. Good luck. Happy Hunting.''
He grinned wickedly. It was almost Darwinian in it's simplicity. They would kill each other. However, he had the full intention to stay true to his word. The sole survivor would undoubtedly be the most powerful, and ergo, the most useful. After escaping the prison, he would have a homicidal space monster at his disposal, as well as a ship he could use to access anything in this brave new universe, and remake it as he wished.

The Old Man turned on his heel, looking at Richards with some grudging respect, for his audacity at least, if not his motive.
Ï'm 900 years old, boy, and I am unable to tell whether you've done something extremely intelligent or undoubtedly stupid."

@Gibbons @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Verite @Cromartie Sarkissian @LuckycoolHawk9

 

[Cromartie Sarkissian]

And from behind him, Shaitan carefully stepping in the blind spot behind his head, a hand would raise.

And Sith Lightning crackle aimed at his head.

A clean kill.... Or not.

But dead they would be regardless if he succeeded.

@Cromartie Sarkissian​

"GHAAHHHH"
Brode's screams echoed around the tunnels as hundreds of volts of force lighting flooded surged into the deepest crevasses of his brain. It practically melted him from the inside out

His body fell limp, slumping into a small pile at the Siths feet. Both of 'His' lightsabers ran dark upon leaving his fingers, vanishing into the dark and cold, snuffed out like the flame of his life.

"Nice work" A familiar voice cried, calling out from behind one of the crate. Sarah rose to her feet, looking out from her shelter and towards the Sith Lord. "Looks like you have some powers of your own" For the first time since their meeting, Connor's voice seemed, casual, well rested, as if she had just woken from a peaceful sleep rather than a prison cell. The old Mother of the Resistance was back again.


Her foot came into contact with one of the boxes, kicking intensely at one of the locks. After a few hits she was in, and rummaging just as Brode had done before her. Straw and bubble-wrap filled the air as she scrambled- she was searching for something...particular...

"Here" She muttered, removing a grey wrapped golf bag from the box and hooking it over her shoulder. "This should be enough equipment to arm a few of us" The woman leaped towards the table Gree had been sitting in, before heaving with her entire body weight to push him off onto the floor. Maybe the fat old sonova had just been doing his job, trying to keep the prison a safer place. Maybe he didnt deserve to die- he had just been shirking off in the wrong place at the wrong time

No
All was fair in love and war
It was a necessary evil

The contents of the bag were thrown across the table in a seemingly random fashion, with a variety of guns, knives and laser flying across the bench. She reached towards on of the more prominent items, a large fraction of body armor. It appeared to be made of some sort steel, well welded and at least 2 inches thick. She raised the vest over her head with some difficult, laying it over her shoulder


"Refined coltan" She whispered to herself, not raising her head towards her accomplice "It takes a hit or two"

Her slender fingers then found their way towards some of the other weapons, attaching a small knife to the ankle with a strap that once belonged to a watch, and clenching a a sawed of shotgun in her fist. Hand guns at her waits, ammunition around her waist; she was armed to excessive amounts.

"Help me move some more of this up top- we need to arm as many people as possible if we're going to get out of here in one piece"

--
Several Decisions face Shiatan-
Grab his own equipment, search for someone else and claim it as his own, or....betrayal...

@Ringmaster​

Battler Ushiromiya had decided to go along with the larger group. All of his equipment, if one called it that, was basically just summoned by his magic anyway, so there wasn't anything he needed to retrieve. If his powers were functional, he'd simply call them forth. All there was to it.

Not to mention he just wanted to get out of here. Staying in a prison wasn't the agenda today, or ever. He didn't see any reason to release the other prisoners, but didn't get a say in the matter before Cameron just released them all. There wasn't any proof of their innocence. Jails usually housed criminals, naturally, so letting a bunch of them out seemed like an awful idea. At least it might make their escape slightly easier.

"...Oi, let's get out of here before the riot becomes too big for us to get through. Don't know about you guys, but I'm not planning to get caught after trying to break out! That'd be pretty counterproductive, you know?"

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Mighty Roman @T.O.M. @LuckycoolHawk9

Caesar took a deep breath in throw his nose, tasting the putrid air that surrounded him. More odors...more free prisoners- Battler was right; they needed to get out fast
"Flight....Deck....Best....Escape....Place"
The ape scrambled out of his cell, dangling his body out off the edge of the balcony with two, bedraggled hands. All the violence, all the chaos- the perfect cover
"We...Leave"​

------------------------------------

Cameron had arrived at the cells somehow at the same time as the other two and he was shocked to see that he wasn't alone in his plan. " Goodkin, you are alive, I am surprised that someone didn't kill you in some horrffic way and that I would never see you again," he said to him, as he looked around to see he was with two strangers and Misaka too. He took a deep breath as he was't about to ruin the moment that he and Quill were having, it was one that was perfect.

Cameron turned and noticed that Hoban seemed to be there and they were right there.
Well, that was vague if Cameron had ever met anything.
It seemed that this place echoed which made it easy for the guards to tell who was talking if they patrolled the area at all too.
Cameron groaned. He may not have been the girl who had saved him, but he had identified the man so no one was killing him and he looked around if he made things much worse than it was before to say.
Who else did they know?
Well, prison wasn't doing good on the man in the slightest, perhaps there was something that aged people in these cells, if so, he didn't want to stay here for long.
There was a certain air of sarcasm that Cameron couldn't help when Hoban stated the obvious. " No, I thought they were angels for putting us in jail, thanks for the information," he dryly said.

Peter Quill looked at the wall and seemed to notice that there was a control pannel on the wall and he knew what that might too, It could probably make announcements for the whole prison to hear and that was certainly good for them to do now since they needed a riot to draw the guards here and distract them from the equipment locker and the landing.

Cameron looked at it. " It seemed that there is a microphone and buttons to unlock the cells. We can release them and keep our stealth for the time being, but it might kill more innocents or we can make an announcement and then hopefully release them," he said. " There is of course the third option to that we can take into account. Someone could release them as another person made an announcement too," he said. Quill was only half-listening and had already started to clear his throat to broadcast. He watched and Cameron nodded as he set all the cells to release.

Peter Quill cleared his throat and pressed the loud speaker button. " Hello, fellow inhabitats of the Kyn, you have all been wrongly put here by the Nova Corps and they want to keep you here, but you don't have too. You can incite chaos with the guards now that your powers are back, you can destroy those who have oppressed, but you must do it together wiuth us and we might all have a chance to escape," he said. He needed a distraction to get into the locker room, but this was his best effort.

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Mighty Roman

The Old man walked towards Crichton and Misaka, his boots thumping heavily against the floor. He hated feeling so weak, this body so old and weary, battered by war throughout so many ages.
As impressive as that display was, I believe that I could perhaps be of more assistance. My ship should be located nearby, but I will need some....younger people to do the legwork. I assume I can rely on you?"
He offered a hand out to Crichton. He was young, powerful, and absolutely insane. He had once been like him, in a lot of ways. Back in Earth's 1970's-or was it the 80's? Back in the UNIT days of mad scientists and invading forces, trying to plunder that primitive world of it's resources. He had always been there. For every single attack. And every single failed invasion. Axons, Sea Devils, The Daleks.

Time had wearied them both, but Crichton had lost none of his strength, nor impulsiveness. He would do nicely for the required tasks.

The tension was broken by a young Dr Richards. As he sat up, head spinning from Shaw's attack, he growled in anger. His visor cracked and fizzed, the glass shattered completely, the targeting system spinning and diving. Useless. He stretched out his arms, cutting a path through the group to the comm system. The solution to their dilemma was obvious.

Activating the Comm system was elementary. Through the tannoy, he said: Prisoners of the Kyln, my name is Dr. Reed Richards. Now that you're all out and about, I have something I'd like you to do. First to reach the Comm room, will be able to escape in the Transport ship we have arranged. Good luck. Happy Hunting.''
He grinned wickedly. It was almost Darwinian in it's simplicity. They would kill each other. However, he had the full intention to stay true to his word. The sole survivor would undoubtedly be the most powerful, and ergo, the most useful. After escaping the prison, he would have a homicidal space monster at his disposal, as well as a ship he could use to access anything in this brave new universe, and remake it as he wished.

The Old Man turned on his heel, looking at Richards with some grudging respect, for his audacity at least, if not his motive.
Ï'm 900 years old, boy, and I am unable to tell whether you've done something extremely intelligent or undoubtedly stupid."

@Gibbons @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Verite @Cromartie Sarkissian @LuckycoolHawk9

The prisoners left their cells slowly, unsure of how to proceed. These men and children had just set them free...and then told them to hunt? What was happening? Within moments a small crowd had formed, with the Special Ward Prisoners making their way towards the door in a careful shuffle

Nobody wanted to be the first one to move, the first one to kill

It was true, what Peter had said; a distraction was important, and getting everyone out alive would be great too...but Reed...His game complicated things. If it was survival of the fittest, then alot of them would most likely end up dead, most likely at each others hands rather than the Novas

Silence fell

Nobody dared to breath

Nothing was happening

Until everything did

Someone at the back of the mod seemed to snap, firing a large blast of energy through the center of the crowd. At least three prisoners were incinerated in seconds.

Within seconds the rest of them followed suit, tearing at each other like animals, tooth and claw and nail. The constant pushing and throwing caused the ocean of creatures to spill out into the back rooms; they had their riot

"What the hell have you done?" Hoban cried, pushing his was through the violent crowd, desperate to reach the Serenity's crew. The sarcasm didnt even make a dent in him at this point; he had bigger things to focus on "They're going to kill each other! They're going to tear this place apart"

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Mighty Roman @T.O.M. @LuckycoolHawk9

​

Battler Ushiromiya had decided to go along with the larger group. All of his equipment, if one called it that, was basically just summoned by his magic anyway, so there wasn't anything he needed to retrieve. If his powers were functional, he'd simply call them forth. All there was to it.

Not to mention he just wanted to get out of here. Staying in a prison wasn't the agenda today, or ever. He didn't see any reason to release the other prisoners, but didn't get a say in the matter before Cameron just released them all. There wasn't any proof of their innocence. Jails usually housed criminals, naturally, so letting a bunch of them out seemed like an awful idea. At least it might make their escape slightly easier.

"...Oi, let's get out of here before the riot becomes too big for us to get through. Don't know about you guys, but I'm not planning to get caught after trying to break out! That'd be pretty counterproductive, you know?"

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Mighty Roman @T.O.M. @LuckycoolHawk9

The Ship Hangar

The hangar sat at the base of the ship, yet could be smelled from the top. The odor of burning petrol had seeped through the floorboards, tearing apart the noses of all who were unfortunate enough to be detained at the Omega levels. The group traveling down here would almost pass out upon reaching their destinations

The room had a large ceiling, measuring in at at least 40 stories high. Equally enormous ships filled its spacious floors each one dwarfing the next. TIE fighters, Transporters, Simple hover craft; if the Novas owned it, or at least, had confiscated it, it was here

The largest wall, the easternmost one, appeared to have some sort of energy field protecting it, guarding those within from the cold expanses of space. That dark abyss, all those distant star spanning out almost to infinity- it would be beautiful to those who had never experienced such a sight before

Of course, there were plenty of guards; it was what one would expect. However, they were all dead.
Every last on of the Novas, guarding, administrating or otherwise, had been murdered, cleanly and quickly. The good news was that this left almost every ship unguarded...however, it did raise a few questions

"What happened here" Kyle muttered, caressing his stubble. He felt so vulnerable here, unarmed and unnervingly unknown. He hardly knew what to do with his hands, before picking up photon rifle he had found in the hands of a dead Nova, that was. He pressed the side of the weapon close to his torso, the barrel aimed at the floor, and made the usual resistance area scout-

Forwards
Left
Right
Forwards
Left

Bang

A small scrap of lead rocketed through Kyle's head, shattering his skull and spitting itself out the otherwise. A clean way to go.
He probably didnt even know it had happened

"My my, Doctor Smith. What do we have here?" One of the two perpetrators muttered making himself known. He appeared to be addressing his accomplice, neither of which could be found. It was almost as if the voices were disembodied, floating phantoms haunting the titanium walls
"It appears as if we have some of our little friends try to make an escape!" Doctor Smith paused, letting out a short fit of maniacal laughter "I hate to shoot down such..." He froze, desperate to find the perfect word to anoint the occasion "Delusions of grandeur"

Doctor Smith stepped out from the shadow of a small shuttle, no larger than a kitchen fridge, his leather clad heels clicking against the floor as he traveled. He appeared to be wearing some sort of robe, one made of leather, or perhaps foil, embroidered with the patterns of a galaxy. His skin was pale, contrasting to the darkness of his clothes like a supernova against blackness of space. He was old, in body and in spirit, long since bedraggled by time and by foul sights. The eyes were empty, cold, unfeeling- the windows to the soul he had long since transcended. An oblivious black skull cap covered his hair

"Yet, it is only natural, Mr.Schmidt, for cattle to line of for their own slaughter" He paraded his way towards Kyle's unmoving corpse. He kicked it with a pointed shoes, flipping it over once against. Reese's mouth hung open, the fresh specks of blood clinging to his beard like flees to a dog "Do you smell that, my dears? That is the smell of...." Again, the word evaded him "Weakness...Weakness of mind, of will of....Soul, if you believe in such a thing"

He dropped his pantomime facade, turning towards Battler
"Now, dear friend. Mr.Schmidt and I are busying ourselves with some noble work- the most noble work of all. In case you tiny mind has failed to comprehend it, this has all been one large game, in which, you amount to no more than a pawn" His temper began to slip, his face screwing itself up into a ball "A pawn destined to fall trying and failing to remove an opposing rook from power. You are a nothing" He searched his mind for that facade...the trusting face of a weathered Doctor he had grown all too used to...and too sickened with "Now" A smile returned, the Time-Lord gasping for breath "Before I make you and your friends nothing, quite literally" His head tilted as he paced towards Battler "You can direct me towards a Ms.River Tam and a Mr.Hoban Washburne. We have...business, to attend to"

The Valeyard was now in touching distance of the Ushiromiya, resting two of his gloved hands upon the young man's shoulders

"I understand that this is a lot to take in, Mr.Ushiromiya, but I suggest you hurry...By colleagues are already on route to the other sectors of the prison and they may not be so...easy to cooperate with"

@Gibbons @CookieMonster
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[Ringmaster]

Shaitan..... Walked past, rummaging for his own box. And with no regard for Sarah Connor, he stripped methodically till he was nude, whereupon he began to armor up. One piece after another was put in place, hiding the scars on his back that looked as though it came from a whip. Until finally, the helmet slipped down.

And the Shadow Guard was back.

A click of the helmet locking in place and he was ready. Cue the next box, carrying his partners equipment. This he carried under one arm, as he hunted for the Black Box. If found, he'd stash it in his pouch before turning to leave. He paused... And then glanced over his shoulder.

"Take only what you need. Their powers and numbers will render it moot."

And off he walked to the elevator.
​

@Cromartie Sarkissian

 

[LuckycoolHawk9]

Peter looked at Hoban. " This isn't what I want- he manipulated them to hurt each other," Quill said, as he glared at the Maker. He was starting to hate the guy since he had just killed many people. Off in the distance, he could hear crunching as people were massacring and he didn't do anything to cause it.

Cameron looked at Quill and was silent. " This may not be a terrible thing to be happening at all to be honest," he said.

Peter looked at him and wasn't able to answer that at first. This was exactly how the Guardians of the Galaxy had done to escape, but he knew he was innocent when he here with the rest of them too and he looked at him. " This isn't how I wanted it to happen, I wanted everyone to come out alive,"

" It doesn't work."

" It could have worked if he didn't manipulate."

" We can't change the past."

" But we shouldn't have done this," he said.

Cameron couldn't argue that easily, but he could try too. " We need a distraction and we got one. It doesn't matter. We can't be responsible for all deathes that happen."

Peter Quill looked at him and he wasn't sure what to say. This was not the morally right situation, but he had never been a moral person. He looked over and remembered his promise to Shaw and the others on keeping Last Order safe.

" We have to go and get our weapons, we may have cause this mess, but we can't fix it now. But next time, we aren't letting this happening. We are not letting people decide what we are doing and I got my eye on you," he said to the Maker. " Let's get our weapons and get the heck out of here," he said.

@Cromartie Sarkissian @Thuro 116 Pendragon @Mighty Roman

 

[Cromartie Sarkissian]

Shaitan..... Walked past, rummaging for his own box. And with no regard for Sarah Connor, he stripped methodically till he was nude, whereupon he began to armor up. One piece after another was put in place, hiding the scars on his back that looked as though it came from a whip. Until finally, the helmet slipped down.

And the Shadow Guard was back.

A click of the helmet locking in place and he was ready. Cue the next box, carrying his partners equipment. This he carried under one arm, as he hunted for the Black Box. If found, he'd stash it in his pouch before turning to leave. He paused... And then glanced over his shoulder.

"Take only what you need. Their powers and numbers will render it moot."

And off he walked to the elevator.

@Cromartie Sarkissian​

Sarah turned away from the stripping Sith, intent on avoiding catching a glimpse of anything she didnt want to see. They all had scars in the Kyln- both mental and physical- and it was clear that neither Shiatan nor herself were an exception to that rule. Lash wounds, bullet holes, knife gashes...all bitter memories, times they all wished to forget. Scars from battles, from accidents

From Childbirth


All she could think was that not all wounds brought shame

"Suit yourself" Sarah muttered, guarding the perimeter with a large photon shotgun. They didnt want to be disturbed, not so close to their final play...they needed to leave....and soon.

The moment Connor left the mesh walls of the cell, she seemed to notice something...off. There was a presence... a dark presence in the room. It almost reminded her of the feeling she had the first night she met that T-800; that dread, that instinct to flee.

"Something's wrong" She whispered to herself, turning her gun back towards the weapons cabinet. "We're not alone"


"Of course you are not, Mz.Connor...But are any of us ever truly alone?"
A tall, pale man seemed to flow from behind a crate like blood gushing from a wound; it was almost unnatural to watch. He was old in soul and in nature, yet not in body, bearing the appearance of a 40 year old, albeit tired, human being. Shiatan would notice his striking resemblance to Albert Wesker, at least in their shared dress sense; had they been working together?

"Its almost as if someone is...always...watching us" His sentences were broken, as if they had been typed into the world through a broken typewriter. He adjusted his cuff-links, and continued "I am not, of course referring to a God...not in any sorts. I am instead...talking about us...the Eyes in the sky, so to say...."
No, he was different to Wesker; he was calmer, less maniacal, yet insane none the less. He had no God complex, yet he spoke about humans and Gods as if he were neither. There came no laughter at the end of his sentence

"We have been called many things...." His words came out as a growl "Yet many have taken to calling us "Agents of..." He pivoted, his fingers pressed against each other as if he were in deep contemplation "No, it doesnt matter. All that matters...is you...Shiatan" Smith began to pace towards the Sith Lord. "Do you mind if I take a blood sample?
The Agent's hit prushed past yet another crate, sending it crashing down onto the concrete. The black box rolled out
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