Prison Break

July 22, 2015:

Trouble at Blackgate… (Considered backdated 10 days IC at request of Deathstroke)

New York

Blackgate Prison


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

Blackgate prison is New York's answer to metahuman population imprisonment. Sorta. The real problem they're having is classification issues. For instance, placing a meta human who's ability is xray vision in the same cell block with a meta human who's ability is to bench press the weight of your average county can lead to … issues. And so, the Wards were introduced, sections of the prison dedicated and designed to deal with various sorts of metas. And then the crowding began. It is exceptionally expensive to house The Rhino, his invulnerability, his strength, his /size/, they make housing him a fiscal nightmare. Twenty metas on par with him are enough to nearly fill a wing of the prison. Blackgate is currently home to eighteen of their budgeted twenty Alpha Threats.

Of course, the classification system only uses physical statistics as benchmarks for levels of danger. Which is just short sighted.

Deathstroke eyes the guards of the prison and the corner of his mouth twitches in amusement as he makes a motion with one hand to the tall thin man that has been his shadow in 'the yard' for the last four days, one Dr. T.O. Morrow. "Doc," he says conversationally as his gaze follows the transfer of a new prisoner to the facility, a rather unique looking one at that, "you're going to want to get to the corner." he says in a calm soft tone. Morrow, no fool, does as he's told, nervously picking his way through the crowd in the yard to get to the far corner and curl up against the thick steel wall there.

It's Kate's turn to man the Watchtower, the JL:A's eye in the sky. Or rather, eye in space. It's generally one of her least favorite duties, since it consists of sitting in a chair and watching screens. The novelty of space that so amuses her teammates doesn't seem to make up for the sitting and doing nothing. Blackgate is on the screens, along with several other potentially high-danger places, but at the moment, Kate's got her chair tipped back, tossing a stress ball up in the air and catching it.

There's something about this time of night, so high above the city, just the feeling of speed and movement blasting past one's senses. It's a guilty pleasure that a fellow can get used to and holds greedily to himself. Especially at this time of night when one can be so high up that dropping off the side of the Chrysler building can lead to long moments of silent descent… dropping down down into the valley between skyscrapers. Only to arrest that fall with a twisting turning motion with one arm shooting out and only the /THWIP!/ of a webshooter and the tension of the webline to accompany it. For the Spectacular Spider-Man, taking a patrol and grabbing some swing time is an almost joyous thing.
Yet when he's on patrol his route doesn't take him near that metahuman prison. It takes him close, just along the edge of the river as he darts from building to building. He drops onto a rooftop, dashing across it and flipping over an old industrial air conditioner. He leaps off into the sky, plummets, then ziplines over to perch atop a water tower.
It's from there that he crawls forward, ending up flipped over the side of the tower and holding himself up just with two fingertips and the ball of one foot as he looks to the side. Something about the night right now, not at peace, something in the air.

Natasha was as fate would have it, presently at Blackgate overseeing a prisoner transfer of the man she had brought in after the NYPD Station was bombed a few days ago. It wasn't glamorous work, but sometimes a dangerous prisoner transfer needed a senior agent to oversee it and the one who brought the prisoner in was best suited.

Slade Wilson grins wider as he watches the transport. Someone made a mistake. The Rhino, for all of his faults, and there are many, is one of the more common visitors to Blackgate, which means it's no surprise that when the corporate private company that runs Blackgate and pays it's guards $45,000 a year to better pad their bottom line, said guards get… lazy. And predictable. For instance, when any abnorminally large meta is transfered in, The Rhino's custom restraints are used as default. Sure, most of the time that is sufficient to contain the inmate, and if it's not, it isn't as if they're not also packing enough specialized vibranium tipped tranq darts to drop a herd of rampaging… well rhinos. So it should all be fine. Right?

Of course not.

Slade watches through the 2 inch wide slit in the steel wall of the yard as, the giant steel coffin like encasement, wheeled on it's mechanical upright carrier, is headed for processing. The face of the coffin is open enough he can see who's inside and his grin widens further. Idly he wonders who's about to lose their job as he backs slowly away from the wall, counting in his head.

There's a roar from the other side of the wall and some banging noises. Guards begin to yell and Slade starts a second count as he marches towards the free weights. The scream of twisting steel and rending metal fills the air, and teh shouts of the guards take on a new urgency. "Que the tranqs." Slade says under his breath, the air filled with the soft hissing sound of compressed air rifles, followed by sounds of outrage and fear from the guards. Slade nods as if expecting that noise and he begins tossing free weights down on the ground, a bar there, the weight plates set in a line quickly, a bench kicked into place, "eight… seven… six…" he says as the alarm sounds through the prison and drop down crimson lights begin to flash and sirens wail. "four… three… two…" he turns to look skyward, straight up, and he offers a salute to the sky. Just as the JLA satelite manages to resolve the picture into a high res image. In the yard, weight equipment has been strewn out so that it spells 'I <3 U' when seen from above. In the middle of it is a one eyed NFL line backer offering a mocking salute. But then all of that is easy to miss, mostly because the eye tends to be drawn to the commotion. Namely an 11 foot tall orange armor plated … thing that's clawing it's way through Blackgates reinforced concrete and steel walls like they were made of tissue paper and whispered lovers promises.

Not quite a tingle of spider-sense, perhaps something else. There's something that has the wallcrawler on edge as he drops off that tower, catching a flag pole jutting forth from the side of the office building. His momentum pulls it down… and then launches him upwards where he fires both webshooters, weblines catching the corner of a building, contracting, and zipping him over in a single smooth blur of motion. He lands at the corner of an apartment building, looking out along the riverside. Nothing too telling here, no boats smoking, no helicopters going down, no super villains loose…

+MEET: Spearhead has arrived via +meet.

There's a beep at the monitor, and Kate's chair thumps back down to see what-

"Oh, come on!" she exclaims when she sees the message spelled out in the yard, slapping a button on the control panel. "Blackgate, this is JL:A Watchtower, you've got some suspicious yard activity," she calls to the guards, getting back panicked sounds about the Rhino. "I'm not talking about- Oh, hell," she mutters, pushing back and waving over a SHIELD tech. "Keep telling them Deathstroke's up to something. I'm going in." And then she's rushing to the transporters, pulling her quiver over her shoulders.

"Find out what's going on." Natasha ordered one of the agents accompanying her on the transfer before heading towards the source of the commotion herself. Unfortunately she had a long way to go, making her way through a prison. Of course, given the number of dangerous individuals and 'villains' being incarcerated here she had no idea what to expect.

Spearhead returns to OOC Land.

The Armadillo is not Hulk strong, thank the heavens, he's probably not even Rhino strong, but what he lacks in strength, which to be fair isn't much, he more then makes up for in other ways. For instance, his claws shred steel and concrete, one of those small details the guards should have known before putting him into restraints designed to hold a guy with stubby fat fingers. The orange armor plates are /strong/, strong enough that when the guards change over to live rounds, they more endanger themselves then the inmate. It takes him some time to dig through the wall surrounding the yard, but dig he does, ripping out motor cycle sized chucnks of concrete adn hurling them like shot puts. Inside the yard the inmates seize the guard's distraction and begin to riot all on their own, chaos is spreading like an infectious disease and waht started as an escape alarm quickly escilates to a riot call.

Through the chaos Slade walks almost lazily, deftly weaving through fights like everyone else was standing still. He stops in the corner where Morrow crouches watching the madness with a calculating gaze, "You pro-" Slade shoots him a look that snaps Morrow's lips together, "I keep my promises Thomas. Patience, wait for it."

Natasha is quickly going to discover the annoying part of prison riots. Lock down. Prison doors begin to slam shut and lock, the double locking system, rooms where one must go through multiple doors to leave, all snap shut as the wailing sirens upgrade, and all around her she can feel the mounting tension from the inmates. Shouting begins, bars are rattled, doors are slammed against. The sound quickly reaches 'warzone' levels of deafening.

"I hate the smart ones," Kate grumbles as she pounds down the hallway toward the transporter, shrugging into gear as she goes. "Seriously, people, you should stop underestimating the whole cooperative angle of this enterprise here." The SHIELD agents look up as she runs past, but when they're used to Shayera-level griping…Well, Hawkeye's yelling just doesn't measure up to Hawkgirl. Most of them go right back to their screens.

From afar it's actually fairly easy to tell when something is going on at Blackgate. The place lights up, there are sirens, and on water sound travels rather far. Then, of course, Spider-Man is looking right that way in time to see those spotlights flicker to life, to see the red and blue shades of color brighten, and then to hear the distant wail of the alarms.
The wallcrawler looks around almost frantically. It's a good hike to get to that island, and he's all out of roofs. But there is that marina… and that passing tugboat. Maybe…
With no further words he flips off of his perch and snaps into motion. He drops, lands in the park area just outside of the marina. He breaks into a run and accelerates his approach by ziplining towards a tree top, flipping off of it and then /yanking/ himself towards that distant tall-masted sailing ship at the end of the marina.

"It's a riot or an escape ma'am, they're not sure which. They're happy to accept our help with it." An agent reported to Natasha through her earpiece. It was all she needed to hear.

As the lockdown begins, she flashes her SHIELD Credentials at the guards on duty in the security hub and after a very brief bit of convincing she has the assistance of them. One of them goes with her to guide her through the labyrinth like prison while the others maintain the security hub and let them through doors as they travel.

The Guard probably wets himself when they reach the chaos and notices the Armadillo and Natasha pushes him back, telling him, "Don't open this door for anyone until the riot is over."

If she had expected trouble, she would have worn her full gear. Instead she was going to have to make do with her gauntlets, pistols and a utility belt worn under her jacket.

Heading through the prison riot she begins to knock out fighting prisoners, rolling through the chaos with acrobatic finesse as she heads for the big bad.

The problem with riots in prisons, especially this one, is that you never know what sort of hell will kick off when the meta's riot. Sure, there are measures kept in place for such an occurance, but they're hardly fool proof. As the rampaging giant rips the last of the hole in the wall and stumbles through into the yard on the other side, he roars an annoyed sound. This wasn't the way out! A prison with copper colored skin finishes smashing the metal mittens from his hands, hammering them at a bit of broken concrete, and grins as first falls away. His forearm bursts into flame and he grips the other mitten, the metal heating pink in a hurry, "Oh baby," he purrs, "I missed you."

Armadillo looks around at the brawling guards and prisoners, the guards despite their weapons are clearly having the worst of it, and snears. His body tucks in on itself, curling into a ball of armor roughly the size of an SUV and begins to pick up speed, rolling across the yard bowling human beings out of his way like pins, scattering them about.

Slade continues to watch from from the corner, laughing aloud when Prison Bowling kicks off it's inogural game. Morrow grabs Slade's forearm, "We must hu-" Slade tugs his arm free, "Wait for it." he says simply. Morrow falls silent once more and watches as prisoners surge towards the opening in the yard wall.

There's a setting in the transporter that can take Kate to New York. The Triskelion. Which isn't exactly a short commute to Blackgate. She's hurrying, but if she knows Deathstroke, the mercenary will be long gone by the time she makes it there. Stupid Watchtower duty.

Landing at the end of the marina, Spider-Man lifts both web-shooters up and /Thwips!/ a dual webline straight at the top of the sail boat's mast. He snares it, then turns around and _puuuulls_ against the buoyancy of the ship until it's almost sideways in the water. Another webline is fired behind him to anchor for a moment as he turns, taking aim now, gauging the distance. "This is crazy… super crazy."
That tugboat continues to trundle along its way some distance from the docks and closer to the prison…
"Spider-Woman can fly, not fair I can't." He murmurs to himself and then once the angle looks good… he lets /go/ of the anchoring line. The boat, like an ancient trebuchet, yaws mightily and whips the lightweight wallcrawler up into the air and _propels_ him forward hurtling him into the air and the sky towards Blackgate and that tugboat that's much closer to it.
In the sky he feels a bit lost, no skyscrapers, no rooftops. Almost awkwardly he tries to steer himself one way… the other and then… /SPLASH!/

….And this was why they needed even more secure prisons for metas without the freedom to do what they want; giving people like this freedom was never a good thing as the current situation was proving.

A blue-skinned man in her path is taken down with an electrical shock from her gauntlets and she steps over the knocked out man.

There was no way she was stopping Armadillo; she wasn't The Hulk, Thor or Superman.

She wouldn't be doing her job though if she didn't spot a very high profile prisoner, simply doing nothing but seemingly hiding in a corner.

Weapons at the ready she was heading towards SladeWilson and his sidekick.

Slade Wilson remains where he is, enjoying the show, "Behind you!" he calls out idly to a guard taking a little to much joy in pounding on a downed inmate with a club to notice a graceful moving meta slink up behind him. Then he's encased in unnaturally flexible limbs that wrap around him snake like, forcing a groaning cry from his lips as his rib cage is compressed. The second mitten falls away from the copper skined meta and he turns to the yard at large and claps his hands together causing his arms to burst fully into flame and his eyes to glow bright yellow, "Oh baby! I'm gonna /love/ thi-" and then he goes down as a tazer hits him, fired from the shoudler mounted riot control gun of the first Mandroid armored riot guard to arrive on the scene. «LAY FACE DOWN ON THE GROUND!» an electronically enhanced voice booms, «HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!» The riot seems to amp up rather then down at the demands, "Fuck you Tin Man!" one of the inmates screams before spewing some greenish concoction from his mouth like a firehouse. Where it lands things begin to melt.

Spotting the approaching Natasha Slade just grins wider and shakes his head at her, "This isn't my shin dig." he says conversationally as he points idly with a finger over her shoulder, "Heads up." one might wonder why the ground under her feet is trembling.

That could have gone better. But he's close. Lifting the bottom of his mask and spitting out some nasty East River water, Spider-Man grimaces and lifts an arm out of the water, aiming for that tugboat that's just a bit out of reach. There's another thwip, another /yoink!/ and he's atop and perched aside the stack of the boat. Close enough that he can /leap!/ /splash!/ /thwip!/
And suddenly the wall-crawler is close enough to the breaking rocks of the island and the high walls that he can fire up a line to the lip of that prison barrier, he's able to pull himself out of the water, hop up and crawl up the side of the wall…
A few moments later and there he is, soaked, sodden, atop the prison wall with a hand at his collar trying to shake out his suit. "Maybe a spidey-copter. Something big and red with like webs for the rotors."
But there's no time for further hesitation. The chaos is before him, that roiling wild crowd of struggling guards and metahumans. Without further ado, he dives in!

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" Natasha didn't have time to ponder it any further as the ground beneath her began to tremble. She began to move out of the way, trying to avoid whatever was to come while keeping her eyes and weapons on Slade.

Kate Bishop returns to OOC Land.

Armadillo was coming, of course, he digs a two foot deep furrow in passing right where Natasha was standing a moment before and cuts a corner, his ball form catching in the steel that makes up the 'floor' and sending small broken bits of shrapnel into the air. In the world of metas he's not super duper strong, but he is damned hard to stop and nearly impossible to hurt. And now he's rolling around crushing people. So there's that. He zips off another direction, apparently still trying to find the way out of the yard, having gotten confused and turned around. Slade continues to grin at the Widow, "I don't have to escape Romanov, in less then twelve hours your people are going to spring me on their own." he shrugs, "Like I said, not my shindig. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy a good show." he seems very very calm considering the chaos. "You might want to focus on the people actually hurting one another instead of having a conversation with me. If I was trying to leave," his smile fades a bit, "it isn't as if you could do anything about it." he makes a dismissive shoo'ing gesture with his hand, prodding her to be about her business. He always was an arrogant prick.

For the men who were there that day of the prison break, the guards will recall that for a time they were hard-pressed. Things were looking grim with some of their number down, the Armadillo rolling riot over anything that stood in his way, and their equipment not giving them enough of an edge over those metahuman prisoners. Some had even been considering the better part of valor.
But then suddenly the pressure seemed to come off. Not all of them saw Spider-Man amongst the crowd, but the evidence of his presence was clear. There was just a feeling of order starting to get a foothold. One moment a guard is on his back, holding his hands up to shield his face from a leering prisoner holding a length of iron bar. The next there's a blur of movement, a brush of wind, and suddenly that prisoner was webbed against a wall, murfling with a gagged mouth.
Another guardsman is being held between two prisoners, a large man with oversized fists slamming them repeatedly into his gut, the kevlar saving him from internal injuries for a time. But then the next moment there's a silhouette of a man dropping between them, lashing out with a flicker of movement, sweeping legs, clonking heads, then webbing the men to the ground once they're unconscious.
And so it went, he moved from point to point of crisis, doing what he could even as he worked his way through the crowd, moving towards the big armored critter that seems to be rolled up and causing the most ruckus. Something had to be done, some way to get his attention.
"Hey, Dillo!" That cheerful voice lifts over the chaos, "Long time no smell! Where've they been keeping you and why didn't they let you shower?"

+MEET: Natasha Romanoff whisks off to RP.

Rachel Grey comes into FRP Room #2 from FRP Ready Room.

"We'll see about that." Natasha glared back at Slade Wilson, she had a bad feeling about the guy but there was nothing she could do about it for now short of somehow securing him or knocking him unconscious which might cause other problems altogether.

SHIELD Agent assaults cooperative prisoner. It wasn't a headline she cared to be behind.

The arrival of Spider-Man is a relief and she uses it to take a moment to further examine the situation, very carefully. Maybe the Armadillo and the Spider could hash it out while she watched for potential escapes. There was no way she was putting this riot down, that was on the guards.

Slade Wilson just grins at Natasha, "No," he says simply with a small shake of his head, "we won't." and he leans back in the corner, arms across his chest to watch the madness. Guards are sorely pressed, equipped to handle a few metas at once, but not a riot of this scale without any preperation. The Mandroids were released, but a quarter of them were already down, taken out by various inmates with powers more suitable for dealing with armored foes while in turn the remaining Mandroids began laying down live fire, forcing a great many of the squishy inmates to hit the deck in a hurry. Guards run hither and yon, beating on unruly sorts, trying to drag them down, others are wrestled to the steel coated ground themselves and pummeled before webbing lines yoink them up into the air by the backs of their pants and leave them hanging from walls. Spider-Man's arrival does more for bolstering the guards moral then perhaps his work does in actually stopping the riot. Of course, that said, the biggest problem is the first problem, and it's given up on rolling around and has begun to burrow straight down, ripping through the steel floor and sending up shreds of jagged steel like a confetti machine at new years. "Fuck you bug boy!" the meta says in a thick hispanic accent, "I'm not going back!" he's already waist deep and digging faster.

A running inmate that's beating feet gets a quick webbing of his knees together, sending him stumbling to the ground even as the chaos continues to surge around them. Spider-Man then leaps off his perch on the wall and rolls forward, breaking into a run and _jumping_ to land heavily upon the back of the Armadillo. There's a /splotz!/ as a big mess of webs is shot right at the fellow's face. "Technically you're like, still here, buddy. You gotta escape first before you can, you know, go back." And before there's a reprisal he's already leaping off!

Natasha aims for the weak spots on Armadillo (or the closest approximation of weak spots) as Spidey begins to ride him Calgary Stampede Style and opens fire with a quick rapid succession of shots from her pistols. Maybe the distraction would help the wallcrawler or just piss off Dillo worse

Claws that can rend steel have no issue removing webbing from his face, and they do so with ease and surprising dexterity, "I'm already gone," he says, reaching out to pick up a weight bench and hurl it Spider-Man's direction, "you just don't know it yet!" he doesn't even notice the bullets pinging off of his armor plates, as 'weak spots' is a relative term for a guy layered in over lapping plated hide likt that. He bows his back and bends back down to digging, moving a remarkable amount of earth in very short order. "Go away!"

Landing on the ground in a cartwheel and flipping back up to his feet, Spider-Man recovers just in time for that weight bench to flash at him, slicing through the air. He ducks back, limbo style, one arm reaching out for balance as he slides just underneath the heavy seat, knees skidding upon the ground.
"Well if you're gone already, could you take the stink with you, it like… is totally lingering." His voice hurls words at the man even as Spidey seems to reach over his shoulder, webline /thwipping!/ out to snare that still flying weight bench. He brings it around, both hands grasping the webline and he /whings/ it right back at the Armadillo's noggin.

Natasha wasn't about to entertain Slade Wilson anymore, the fact is she had a gut feeling; her intuition was telling her something was up here but Spider-Man was in danger and Armadillo was taking bullets like they were confetti.

Breaking into a run, she smacks a prisoner in the face with her fist who is about to get in her way before leaping into the air.

Her boots slam into the shoulders of another prisoner and she gains further momentum before somersaulting in close to Armadillo and Spider-Man.

She has an amused expression on her face and smirks at Spidey, "Ride'm Cowboy!"

Diving in towards the rampaging man, she risks her life to deliver a pair of electrocuting shocks from her gauntlets at fairly high velocity to the underside of the metahuman. Hopefully she wasn't going to get crushed.

The bench whips back around through the air, "You're not funny." Armadillo informs Spider-Man in a dry tone as he continues to dig. CRASH!! The bench hits the back of the meta's shoulders and head and staggers him in his hole, mashing his face down into the dirt at the high edge of the hole. He then stands back up and shoots a look over his shoulder at Spider-Man, "Ow." he says flatly before returning to his digging, "Go get beat up by a guy in green face paint! Leave me alone!"

A couple of convicts enjoy additional bruising in their diet as Black Widow plays Ping Pong Hero to get close enough to hurl her electro disks. Two, sadly, causes Armadillo to jerk twice and then growl and look for the source of his annoyance. Mass helps disperse shock, and he's got /plenty/ of mass. Four disks actually causes the behemoth to arch and cry out a bit, sparks arcing between his claws, and he pounds his fist into the ground once before surging out of his hole at Natasha, massive claws leading his charge. Eight, as it turns out, is the magic number. He jerks spasmatically, his legs stiffen up and he falls over mid run, skidding on the steel flooring with a tremendous wracket, and jerking about for a few more seconds before going still, wifts of smoke wafting from his orange frame.

From the corner comes a slow even clapping sound from one older cyclopean inmate.

Spider-Man luckily leapt away in time, as that large amounts of electricity and a wet spidey-suit don't mix too well. He lands upon the ground in a crouch and lifts his voice, "Thanks for saving my bacon, Widow. But I think we've got a long night ahead of us!" And as he says that he starts to move back towards the chaos. He catches sight of the slow clapping guy and points at him, "Don't even try it." He tilts his head just so as if further admonishing the villain, but then he dives back into the chaos of the prison riot, staying close enough nearby should widow need his assistance with say an unruly Slade.

Natasha would let the guards handle the rest of this, advising Spider-Man, "You should see about getting out of here. They might mistake you for a prisoner." She ignores the slow-clapping and reports in, "Complete the prisoner transfer and do whatever else you can to help." Spidey was right, they had a long night ahead of them.

Slade Wilson's chuckle can be heard over the sounds of the riot being slowly wrapped up, and he slides down the wall to take a seat in the corner, his arms resting idly on his bent knees, "Not bad Romanov, not bad at all." he says, still grinning widely, "So. Wanna lay odds on how many hours until my release? I'm putting the line at ten. You want the over or the under?" More guards appear as inevitably they've begun to respond to the sudden riot, it has only been a few minutes after all, and with the Luthor Corp tech they start rolling things up quickly.

Natasha didn't even turn to look at Slade as she walked away, "Neither. You're not my mission, hope it stays that way for your sake." The words from the former assassin and master spy were anything but warm, they were icy enough to freeze hell over.

Slade Wilson awaits his removal back to his cell in quiet amussed silence, kneeling alone in his little corner next to the unconscioud body of a small thin inmate. Nine hours later word comes down, Slade Wilson is to be released. What illegal activities he was accused of commiting, video of his arrest confirms that costumed heroes were working in collusion with Frank Castle, aka The Punisher, rendering any evidence they may have had moot, not to mention dragging into clear question exactly /who/ killed the mobsters to begin with. Wilson could convincingly argue it was all Castle after all, and forturenatly for him, the recorded footage is mostly of things the hero's did, namely using illegal weaponry and working in conjunction with a known mass murderer to subdue a single target. It's to much gray area, to many questions, the D.A. won't touch it and the USAG isn't going to touch any of his outstanding warrents either, issues of missing evidence and retracted eye witness statements. Technically, he's a known criminal, but no one can build a case on him, nothing tangible there. He's like trying to tie down smoke with ropes. Not to mention during the riot he actively assisted the guards, calling out warning to both the Black Widow and Blackgate personal, warning them of danger before it could fall on them while remaining out of the fire entirely himself. It's almost like it was all planned. Ten hours on the nose Slade Wilson climbs into a car worth more then the annual salaries of any ten combined guards in the prison he just left, giving the lie to the old adage 'crime doesn't pay'.

Ten hours and fifteen minutes later an inmate injured in the riot, a tall skinny man that was knocked out, is finally given some attention, his screaming and thrashing that he wasn't a con ignored until that point. Quick checks identify the man as Robert Curtis, a guard at Blackgate. The ID number on his jump suit matches that of one Thomas O. Morrow, Dr. T.O. Morrow, evil scientist and genius robotosist. When questioned the guard has no answers. He was trying to contain the riot when suddenly everything went dark, when he woke up he was in the infirmary strapped to a gurney wearing a prisoners uniform and no idea how he got there. In the chaos after the riot no one took his rantings seriously, he was ignored for hours while actually injured people were treated. With no sign of Morrow and escaped bulliten is put out, but it's been over ten hours and the genius has vanished into the wind.

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