Chapter Ten: The Ravens That Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

After a quick recap, Richard and Voltaire returned to the Joachim manor. After planning things out a bit more, Richard's efforts during the day caught up to him, and the young man fell into a deep sleep, so deep that he nearly overslept. Thankfully, Voltaire was able to get Richard up on time.

After eating, and some last-minute plan-reviewing, it was time for action once more, and Richard, having donned his Requiem attire, set out.

Since the port was partly owned by Voltaire's father, Voltaire was able to ensure that the last hanger would not be visited for at least an hour, giving Richard a fair window. A little after noon, Richard managed to slip into the designated area.

Voltaire had set up the spot well: there wasn't a single dock worker or port authority to be seen anywhere near the cargo hanger. Granted, this place was only used for storage, so no one had any business there anyways, but Richard appreciated that no one was going to be looking around anytime soon when he headed into the older building.

He ended up using forty-five minutes of his window standing around doing nothing, and had begun to wonder if the Hammer Wolves had gotten cold feet or second-guessed themselves when he finally heard footsteps. By that point, Richard had not only gotten anxious waiting for them to show, but had also begun to fear someone who wasn't them, like dock workers, or some of the Los Midas Police, might turn up instead.

Before he could possibly break character due to his anxiety, however, the door to the cargo bay opened. Dan's head soon popped in, looked around, and then popped back out only long enough to motion to his crew before entering.

Four other Hammer Wolves followed behind him, clearly not nearly as at-ease as Dan, and showing it by looking about nervously. He recognized one of them as Hector; the other three were currently-anonymous gang members he recognized from the church meeting. He couldn't help but feel a little relief that Troy wasn't among them.

The last gang member reluctantly let the door swing shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, Richard advanced from the patch of shadows he had been residing in. At once, the five halted where they stood. All eyes were on the armored figure.

"Glad you're all early."

"I said I was going to come, didn't I?" Dan answered with a half-grin. "I'm a man who sticks to his word."

The helmet shifted. "I take it these are the ones coming with us?"

The blond-haired man crossed his arms. "You got it. I picked the best boys for the job—these four are the fastest on their feet, as well as the most useful in a fight. Troy and the others are on standby—you know, in case we need a diversion to throw off some extra grief."

"Then let's get started. We only have about fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes to spare before we need to depart; that's when our transportation arrives."

Hector grimaced. "You're not actually going to drive us anywhere wearing that, are you, man?"

"No," Richard answered as he turned his head toward one of the mesh-covered windows into the storage building, looking out at the road beyond. "And, as a matter of fact, the driver won't be aware of our plans, which should help us keep this discreet.

"My associate is using his own influence to delay him long enough for us to make our move—and since he makes regular trips to Rycroft Asylum, there should be no reason to suspect anything. As for how we're going to bypass security," He gestured to his right. "there's your answer: we're hiding in his cargo."

To that side were five large plywood boxes of the thicker and more durable type; each one was easily large enough to fit a man. Dan gave it a cross glance.

"That's your plan? Even if someone doesn't think something's odd about five big boxes like this, you are aware that you can't just move sealed boxes into a place like Rycroft, right? They'll cut them open and check out the contents for stunts like this."

"I've already taken precautions for that as well," Richard answered, walking over to one of the nearer ones. On reaching it, he went to one side and removed the side, and on doing so revealed the contents.

While most of it was empty, there seemed to be a "layer" around the central point of smaller packages of various medical supplies, like syringe containers and bandages. "That's why these boxes are dual-layered. When they open the top, all they'll see is regular cargo, while we'll be underneath. True, it won't be the most pleasant ride, but there's space enough to breathe until we're in."

Dan walked up to the box Richard was indicating, apparently wanting to give it a look himself. He even ducked his head in and felt around a bit. After a moment or two, he gave a consenting nod. "All right, looks fair enough to me—but that just gets us in; you have any plan from there, or do we just wing it?"

Richard paused, taking a moment to control his voice, before continuing. "Not precisely, but we have more than just a starting point. As you've probably guessed, nobody knows the exact layout of Rycroft Asylum, but I have enough information to get the overall setup of the island. It consists of five major blocks: the Docks, where new arrivals are checked in and held until transfer; the Penitentiary, where the lower-level patients reside; the Dormitory, where the live-in staff stays, and bureaucratic and 'public' functions are attended; the Intensive Ward, which is where the more severe patients are locked up; and Rye Park, which is a forest in the middle of the Asylum used for recreation by the low-level patients.

"On arrival, this cargo is cleared to be placed in a transit space within the Asylum's main storage room, which is near the Penitentiary. We sneak in through there, access their databases to find out where your friends are being held, then move to their location, rescue them —hopefully without raising too much attention— then head to the Docks and pilfer a ship to escape. Simple enough."

"You're kidding right?" Dan chuckled. "They have to have every way in and out of prisoner areas bugged, monitored, tracked, and whatever else the hell you want to do with it; the moment they find out we're breaking inmates out of there, the whole place is going to be on lockdown.

"We'll have every last guard and drone out for us, and that's just for starters. The police will be on us like flies on crap, both in the water and on land. Even if we can somehow bust through what I'm sure is security-out-the-wazoo securing the dock before lockdown, and somehow back to the shore, we won't get farther than a city block before we're all busted again—we can't just disappear into thin air!"

"Actually, we can, in a sense," Richard answered, "and a block is all we need; just to get right back here, into this building. My associate has also set up a warp spell to a safe house from here. It can only be activated from his end, and it won't become active until we're on our way back, but once we make it here we'll be out of their reach and impossible to track."

Dan paused. "All right, but that still leaves the fact about how we're supposed to stay free long enough to get here."

"You remember how I said we'd be accessing their computer network, yes? We're also going to create a system malfunction to release one block of the Penitentiary and cause a riot."

"Hey, hey…" Dan whistled. "Look, I want to bust out my gang more than you do, sure…but we're going to just dump a bunch of criminals into the city to do it?"

"That's where the time element comes in: from the time we trigger the breakout to when we reach the dock, we have to beat their time for a lockdown. If we're the only ones who manage to get a transport and escape, the rest of the inmates should be trapped on the island, just as you said earlier. Unfortunately, aside from this, there's no readily available way to secure our escape, not one that we can plan without risking irreversible damage being done to your friends."

Dan shrugged. "Okay—no skin off my nose if you take the risk; I just want Zach and Jess out, pronto. Just pointing it out, since you're the one who 'seeks justice', or whatever…."

"No sweat on my end," Hector threw in. "I mean…I bet most of the guys and gals in there are just like our boys anyway, right? We'd be doing them a favor. So long as this doesn't end up with a stab-loving psychopath trying to turn me into a bowl, the plan's good to us. Right, Tony?"

He and another one of the Hammer Wolves bumped their fists together in agreement.

"A few last things," Richard spoke up again. "I've noticed you all seem to be high on 'respect', and you're likely wanting revenge for what happened last night. I'd advise you to keep your cover as long as you can; the smoother this is, and the more inconspicuous we are, the less painful this will be.

"To that end, I've brought something to help you all conceal your identities while we do this. I trust you don't want any more exposure…."

The young man turned away from the bigger boxes, to a smaller one to one side that was already opened. He moved up to it, pulled aside the flaps, and then reached inside. After rifling around a moment, he pulled out a black mask that only had eye slits open.

At once, Dan and the others gave him questioning looks.

The prince fought hard not to give an aggravated sigh. "…It's not as…unique a mask as mine, but this isn't about fashion, especially on such short notice; it'll get the job done. Furthermore, there's a transmitter in each mask—are you all familiar with Codec technology?"

Dan, somewhat reluctantly, stepped forward and took the first mask from Richard. He turned it around, and spotted a small round device attached to it on the back. He nodded. "Heard of it, yeah—never used it myself, though."

"It's very simple:" Richard indicated the buttons. "just put two fingers to your ear to talk. It's a private network, so there shouldn't be problems, but, in case someone happens to breach it, we should probably use code names."

"Like…Red Wolf, Blue Wolf, and all that?" one gang member suggested.

"That's a bit too obvious; they have known Hammer Wolves in there, so that's a dead giveaway. How about a different animal? Like ravens, for example?"

"So does that make you 'Silver Raven', or something?" Tony asked.

"My code name is Requiem, remember? If you have no other questions, let's get into position; we don't want to still be putting ourselves in the boxes if the driver gets here early."

Over the next few minutes, the group loaded in. Some of them were far more reluctant than others to be getting into their boxes, still not entirely trusting this plan, and seeming more than a little put off by the masks.

However, Dan had no problem going with it, and so they followed suit. When they were all inside, he prepared to get into his own. Before stepping in, though, he crossed to one of the room's windows and looked out to the bay. This place hadn't been chosen simply because Voltaire owned it, but due to its being the closest they could possibly get to the Asylum. From here, Richard had one of the best views the city could afford of it.

Of course, it wasn't exactly the most picturesque place to look at—and, now that Richard was staring at it, he couldn't help but feel anxiety start to grow within him, from more than just the security and guards they would soon encounter.

Rycroft Asylum was indeed on an island, but it was accessible via land, air, and sea, thanks to a long bridge. With only two lanes on it, that bridge would be the perfect choke point in the event of a breakout, especially since there was a guard station on the mainland end. He couldn't see either of those from here, but he could make out the asylum.

From here, it looked more like a ghastly castle out of a horror novel. It would have been unpleasant enough under blue skies, but with the current gloomy skies and dark clouds framing it, it looked positively inhospitable; it almost looked like it was carved out of gray stone into the shape of an ancient prison used purely to torture people until they rotted into nothing. He couldn't make them out well from here, but over the past few hours he had managed to find some pictures of the Asylum, so he also knew gargoyles littered the walls and towers.

Between their ghastly visages and twisted claws, the gargoyles looked more like things out of a fever-dream than a mere stonemason.

No lights or signs of life came from the island; it was like a forbidden ruin or tomb, not at all resembling what one would think of as a prison or state-of-the-art facility—more like something no man was ever meant to intrude upon.

With one last look at his surroundings, Richard took a deep breath, steeling his resolve, and entered and closed his container.

As it turned out, Richard was right to get them in their boxes early—it only took about another two minutes before he heard noises outside: first the clatter of metal doors opening, and then the sounds of footsteps.

A moment later, he felt himself suddenly pitched one way, which was obviously the result of being put onto some sort of dolly, and then was put into motion. After half a minute, he stabilized again, no doubt having been loaded onto the transport. It was a bit disconcerting, but he stayed calm. He hoped the others did as well.

Apparently they did, for there was no trouble as they were all loaded, one after another. After that, there were a few moments of nothing, followed by more movement, then a bump from below before he sensed acceleration again. They were on their way.

Richard held about another minute to make sure nothing unplanned happened, and then activated his own codec. "This is Requiem," he whispered. "Jade Hawk, do you copy?"

"Sorry, you'll have to call back later. He's on quite the hot date."

The prince groaned. "Vol—"

"Just yanking your chain; you'll need as much tension broken as you can get. I'm here."

"How are things on your end?"

"Fine and dandy. I paid to have this office put in; nobody cares if I want a few more monitors to go with it, and nobody second-guesses me around here. If they did, the curator would have their head for harassing the museum's biggest investor. Besides, all I can really do is watch a few channels to see who reacts to you, and wait for you to give me the signal to start decoding. You guys are the ones who need all the luck."

"Decoding will be just fine for this one. Just be ready to go as soon as we get you the files."

He switched channels.

"Testing; can everyone check in? How are you holding up?"

After a moment, a chuckle came back. "Let's see… 'Red Raven', here, and, aside from a bit of a cramp, not bad. Ready and raring to party at Los Midas' most infamous funhouse!"

The trip didn't take too terribly long, but it felt a lot longer, now that he was actually in the crate and wouldn't be coming out until he was already in the hot zone.

He actually envied Dan and his gang a bit: while most of them may not have had a fraction of the young man's skill and training, they were used to danger and threats to their lives on an almost daily basis, and, as tense as this situation was, it was at least a bit more 'routine' for them.

To keep his nerves stable, he focused on his training, discipline, methods, and techniques; things that were cold and hard and devoid of emotion—and therefore devoid of fear. That, and the fact that this institution was corrupt, as were the people who brought inmates, at least some of them fairly innocent, to be forgotten and to die alone.

Anger was proving to be a very useful emotion.

Only about ten minutes passed before the group felt deceleration, followed by a slight bump from what had to be repulsors touching down. He couldn't hear the engines that well from within the box, but he bet they had stopped, which meant they had to be in Rycroft's cargo area. He thought of radioing the others, but he realized he didn't want to make any unnecessary sounds until he knew the situation better.

Get ready, Greymont, he thought instead. Let me know if you smell a lot of people getting together at once; it'd be nice if we were the ones doing all the surprising on this.

Sure thing, Boss!

He heard metal shift soon after; the sound of the cargo truck's doors opening. Soon after, footsteps became audible: there were two sets of them that he could clearly make out. Richard was listening more closely, checking for additional ones, when he heard a belch.

"Sure as hell took you long enough to get here, Lou! You know how long I was waiting to buzz you in? This crap was supposed to be here half an hour ago!"

"Lay off, will ya', Carl? It's not my fault the damn higher-ups made a mistake! What kind of idiot bureaucrats they got working up there anyway, listing me as an immigrant? I'm only getting seven minutes to eat lunch because of it!"

"Just hurry up and unload this stuff—the Doc's doing an open demonstration pretty soon, and he wants a large crowd for the 'big show'; that includes interns."

"Yeah? Who's the sorry lab rat?"

"Hell if I know—some punk they dropped off last night. All I know is, the Doc'll be cranky as hell if everyone doesn't show up for it—man can't stand it if he doesn't have plenty of guys around to kiss his feet."

"Don't I know it. Anyway," He felt a new dolly start to slip underneath his own crate. "these shouldn't take long. Just a bunch of bandages and—"

The dolly's handler was cut off as the side of the current box was torn like tissue paper, a metal-armored fist snapping out and smashing upward into his chin with an uppercut. The irritated worker had just enough time to cry out in pain at the force that yanked him clean off of his feet and into the air before it slammed his head against the ceiling of the transport.

Requiem had taken that as his cue, and had struck. Immediately, he ripped out of the rest of the crate, and saw the other worker, 'Lou', staring in shock at what had just happened. A moment later, Carl landed on the flood with a loud thud, clearly unconscious…but what really grabbed Lou's attention was the red-eyed, armored being crawling out of the ruins of the box and advancing on him quickly.

"What the h—"

That was all he got out before Requiem sprang forward and smashed the aforementioned fist into his neck.

The worker gagged, clutching his neck and doubling over. That gave the armored man the chance to slam down with his elbow on the back of his head; then he, too, collapsed to the floor of the cargo transport.

Richard quickly strode past him, just enough to look outside the still-open doors of the transport. There was no telling if more of them were outside, but the hover's interior was clear: a few other crates, some shelves, a couple loading machines, and nothing more. If it wasn't for what he had overheard, it would be hard to believe he was even on Rycroft, as "conventional" as the area appeared.

Turning back, he called out to the other crates. "Gentlemen, the carpet has been rolled out."

Immediately, Dan's own box was ripped clean in two, and he walked out from the inside sighing while the others similarly broke their crates apart. "Really? Are you going to do the whole 'dramatic spiel' thing the whole time? That didn't work too well back in the garage, remember?"

Requiem grimaced beneath his face-plate, but outwardly appeared to ignore it. "All right, remember: keep low and quiet until we get your friends. At the bare minimum, we want to get them before they can seal them in maximum security or use them as hostages or bait."

Dan tugged his mask on more tightly. "Well, so long as we don't accidentally walk past one of the louder crazies and they spot us slinking around…"

"Hey—maybe we'll be lucky, and they'll all be too jacked up on pills to notice, eh?" Hector suggested with a weak shrug.

Richard had to admit that, while he was glad for the extra manpower, he wasn't sure if there were enough shadows in this place for six of them to sneak around—especially since they likely had plenty of security cameras as well as drones and personnel to keep an eye on things. —And while they might have had a few lunatics who would shout at anything, and the saner inmates probably didn't care if the staff lived or died, one of them might get hysterical and demand to be released…. He looked around a bit to see if there was anything they could use.

Luckily, he soon spotted something that looked promising: one of the crates had a slip on it from an outfitter, rather than a medical supply label. He moved over to it, seized the lid, and ripped it off.

He was lucky: it had a number of replacement white-and-blue uniforms, similar to the ones 'Carl' and 'Lou' were wearing.

He looked to the others as the last gang member emerged. "If you're that worried, how about changing into these? You can pass for workers long enough for us to get where we need to go."

Dan stared a moment, then burst into a snicker. "Seriously? First you make that big deal about the masks, and now you want us to just skip those and blend in with the crazy wranglers?"

Requiem frowned beneath the faceplate. "I'm assessing the situation and determining what the best move to make is. You said yourself that one had to be willing to adapt to situations, yes?"

The gang leader's eyes twitched a bit; the prince could tell he didn't like it when people managed to spin his own words back in on him. He grimaced, then acquiesced at last. "They don't happen to have a size XXL in there, do they?"

"Uh, Dan, wait a second." Hector gulped. "What if we get our faces on camera?"

The blond man laughed. "You heard these two sacks of potatoes, right? The ol' Doc is giving a demonstration. My bet is, one that ain't for the normal 'viewing public'. They aren't going to have any cameras on for that; only people around here who'll spot us now are ones that already know who we are, like the bastards who tried to jump us at the Diamond Dome. And, frankly…" His eyes narrowed. "…I want those guys to recognize our faces. Now come on—if that 'demo' is going to be on one of our boys, I want to be there already!"

As Dan was decided, there was no more dispute from the others. Stashing the masks for the time being, they quickly dug into the box for staff uniforms their size.

As one would expect from bulk clothing, they were split into easy-to-identify sizes, and most of them were just pants and jackets, so they lost very little time putting on the new material over what they had on.

After Dan finished zipping up his own jacket and looking himself over, making sure his actual clothes didn't stick out too much underneath, he glanced at Requiem. "Even if you're better at staying hidden than us, I think walking around like that is pushing it."

"I have a few talents at my command that you don't," the prince answered. "You take the main path; I'll be watching you from above."

Dan looked puzzled. "What do you mean by—"

Requiem cut him off by dashing right out of the back of the truck, quickly reaching full speed. Dan reacted in alarm, and quickly ran after him. By the time he reached the back of the truck and looked out, Requiem had already run past the cargo containers and crates to one of the room's walls.

For a moment, it looked as if he was about to perform another one of those wall-jump stunts he had used before, but instead, on making contact, spikes erupted from the feet and hands of the young man's armor, instantly anchoring into the stone and fixing him in place.

Not wasting any time, he quickly scaled the rest of the wall, until he reached one of the ventilation ducts near the ceiling. His hand snapped out and knocked it open, and in moments his body had vanished through it.

The gang leader gave a bit of a hmph. "Show-off."

In spite of the imposing exterior, the interior of the building they'd arrived in seemed modern enough. It definitely hadn't been serviced well in years—possibly since it opened.

The heavy smell of bleach was in the air in the more serviced parts, indicating that the place had been essentially "bug bombed" with AI machines to kill any insect infestations, and to purge diseases and fungi from the island as completely as possible.

Exiting the building onto the asylum grounds was something else entirely. In spite of it being daytime, it seemed like everywhere one went there was a dark, gothic statue glaring down upon the walkways and paths, and all of the hideous gargoyle statues seemed to have their eyes fixed on whoever passed by. It was deathly still and quiet on the island.

Only the haunting sounds of the sea breezes echoing between buildings and edifices produced noise, and it was a strange, ghostly moaning sound.

Everything on the island seemed dark, gray, lifeless, and dead; even the few bits of vegetation they passed by, that had been planted by previous administrators, were withered, dry, and twisted.

Each footstep echoed loudly off of the surrounding buildings, making even the roads between structures seem like something otherworldly and even dream-like. It was enough to form a lump in Dan's stomach. This didn't seem like an asylum or a prison; it didn't seem like any place that should still have a function in this world….

The only signs of life and "present time" resided in the occasional staff members. Some were doctors or orderlies moving around, but most were guards, and most of them were perched in towers, or at gates and vantage points.

While they weren't so common that they needed to be pushed through or stepped around, there were enough posted and looking at them to make it clear that sneaking around wouldn't have been much of an option—at least, not a timely one. As it was, dressed as they were, none of them garnered a second look.

Requiem seemed to be keeping up his end. Dan didn't spot him at first, but occasionally he caught a glimpse, either moving behind some of the brush that had been put up for hedgerows, or running along a parapet, or ducking behind one of the ghastly statues perched everywhere like grotesque totem poles.

Unlike Requiem, Dan wasn't immediately clear on where he was supposed to go to get to the Penitentiary, but tried to walk along without looking like he was wandering. However, it wasn't long before he found a signpost, and soon after followed the route it indicated to what looked like the largest structure on the island, one definitely in the form of a prison cellblock.

The group tried to keep it casual, though Dan noticed that Richard was moving swiftly from bush to bush. As the man posing as an intern saw his metallic leader quickly dash for a vent and jump into the Penitentiary, he chuckled, and muttered, "Well, maybe this joint isn't as secure as they all wanted us to think. Doesn't really matter; no one is going to—huh?"

The members of the Hammer Wolves had taken the 'direct route' —straight to the front doors— and had scarcely reached the bottom of the steps leading up to it when the gang leader caught something: approaching footsteps. Apparently, the outer metal doors were so hollow and thin that one could hear someone on the other side nearing—and there was something about their pacing: far too rapid; far too forced.

Immediately, Dan raised a hand slightly and made a gesture to either side. He hadn't led the Hammer Wolves this long to so much success without having what was known as "street smarts". That included times where instinct told him something was up…like now. —And, as this was the quickest-thinking bunch out of his gang, they immediately broke and began to meander. Two inspected one of the statues; another pretended to be fumbling for something in his pockets. Hector went up to Dan as his leader walked to one side, and began to talk about nothing.

A moment later, the doors snapped open with such force that if they had continued forward, one of them would now be looking at a busted nose. Dan cast a sideways glance to the door to see who it was, and, on spotting the individual, he struggled to keep himself from showing his surprise…as well as his rage: it was the same corrupt officer from the night before, 'Shades'.

His mood might have been a bit more testy than it was the last he saw him, but Dan noticed he still had the shades and smug look about him; the only real difference between now and last time was that he had a gray metal prosthetic attached to the stump that used to connect to his right hand.

He seemed to be flexing it quite a bit, and, based on how shiny and flawless it was, it seemed probable that he had just had it attached. Another doctor was walking alongside him—not the 'big man', however; this seemed more like one of the interns or supporting staff. He seemed to be enthused to see the officer testing it out, however.

"But aside from those minor adjustment inconveniences, how is it, Sergeant Booker?"

The cop shot him a glare. "'Minor inconveniences'? How about I chop off your arm, and you get one of these oversized gloves attached to it, and you tell me how 'minor' you think these glitches are?"

"It's just a bit of adjustment as your nerves acclimate to the interface. I assure you, Dr. Salinger informed me that that's his best arm prosthetic. Your augmentation bonding levels are all above normal, so if there's no serious problems, you're clear to go."

"I'm aware of that, dumbass; I heard it when I woke up. You think because I'm missing a hand, I lost my hearing with it?" he grouchily snapped back. "I'll be out of your hair once I've gotten all of what Salinger is going to do to those punks on tape.

"I want the rest of their boys to see exactly what's going to happen to them…after the doc puts them back together again, anyways. I'm going to mess up that armored punk so much first, he'll look like he ran through a meat grinder…."

The doctor swallowed a bit, shrinking back timidly at all of this intended violence. "Yes, um…I see. Anyways, I just want to add that, as he's grateful for bringing new test subjects, this augmentation will be free of charge, and if there's anything else you need while waiting for the demonstration to start—"

The corrupt officer calmed slightly and snickered. "Yeah. Holly, how about pointing me to where I can get food in this joint?"

"It's Holden, sir," the man answered, wiping his brow a bit. "Doctor Holden. I'm Doctor Salinger's top assist—"

"Do I look like I give a damn that you're an over-trained lab monkey?" Booker snorted, his look turning a bit angrier. "You're a damn pencil-neck; stop acting like that makes you a big-shot. It's because of twiggy little twerps like you thinking all your little pen-pushing means a goddamn thing I had to take this job in the first place." He gave him a rough pat on the back that was practically a shove forward, making the doctor stumble. "That's why you're shutting your trap and taking me to cafeteria, or mess hall, or whatever-the-hell-you-call-it."

The man didn't say any more; he merely cowered and continued to walk, with the officer following him. By now, however, Dan's fist was clenched, and his teeth were gritting as he saw him strut right on down the path.

His mind began to cast up visions of his armored fist smashing as many of the officer's teeth out of their skull as he could before he reached in and personally ripped out the "troublesome" ones…. Unconsciously, Dan began to turn to face Sergeant Booker. He began to take a step—

Suddenly, Hector's arm shot out and grabbed his right arm. "Play it cool, man—remember?" he whispered.

"Yeah! Get Zach and Jess, then flush the slime down the toilet!" Tony added.

Dan paused, taking in a deep breath. They were right, of course: the vendetta was clearly not worth pursuing at the moment. He almost snickered at how he had lectured them all on being cool, only to nearly break cover himself. Exhaling, he turned back to the doors. "Let's get in there, before I change my mind."

Turning back around, Dan straightened his shirt as he walked straight up to the penitentiary front doors. The others fell in rapidly behind him as he scaled the short staircase, and soon he led the way, pushing both of the metal dual doors open and stepping inside.

The moment they entered, a rather stale, old, and a musty odor hit his nose, and Dan grimaced. This place just gets more and more "lovely", don't it?

The Penitentiary was even less inviting than Rye Park; everything here was cruel metal and cold, gray stone—not a splash of color or anything welcoming or cheerful anywhere, just an aura of depression and misery. The floor was tiled with what felt almost like stone; the odor likely came from the 'low-level clients'.

Just up ahead, through a mesh gate overlaid with iron bars, Dan could see inside what looked like a lounge of sorts. There were two reinforced ceiling-mounted monitors in it; one was broken, and the other had all of the various seats, tables, and couches surrounding it. The couches themselves looked hard as rock, and were upholstered with vinyl, the kind that was about as comfortable as a toilet seat but was easy to clean.

Some inmates were seated and staring at the screen with the expressions of turnips on their faces; others wandered around, pacing. A few seemed to be doing things that required intelligence, but the only sounds that could be heard besides machinery were constant cries and yelling, or the occasional strings of babble. This would be a miserable enough sight in any other asylum or nursing home; here, it was even more horrendous….

At any rate, no one suspected the group, so Dan led the way up to the front desk, just ahead of the gate into the meshed and barred area. A guard was there, naturally, writing on a pad of paper. As the five approached, his gaze turned upward and focused on them.

Dan came to a halt before the desk soon after, grinning a bit. "We're some of the new guys, bud," he explained, gesturing to himself and the others.

The guard's face didn't change. "I'm not your bud."

"Right," Dan answered with a grimace. "Anyway, we need to get checked in, and all that jazz. Sorry, I suck at directions."

The guard took up a coffee mug, sipped it, and set it back down. "Stairs are in the back, second floor, turn right on getting out. Make it quick." He reached over and mashed a buzzer, disengaging the electric alarm on the door.

Dan gave a nod, and quickly led his boys forward. The stench was even more potent in here, but he tried not to look around; this was miserable enough of a place as it was. Furthermore, while these residents likely weren't the violent type, as the door guarding them was merely alarmed, not locked, he didn't want to garner too many looks from them.

None of the inmates here appeared to be "all there". Some looked at Dan and his crew as if they were there to kill them; others stared at them like a child marveling at a new sight; still others didn't appear to see or mentally process anything. It was honestly sickening, seeing people in this place; seeming to be only half-there, half-alive, to begin with…. The gang leader ended up focusing on the loudspeakers, to take his mind off of the random crying-out of some of the inmates, including one who suddenly started screaming just as he walked by, making two of his boys jump. But there was little to hear, other than an advertisement for how people with mental health issues should apply to Rycroft to get a good deal on the treatment they might need.

Are they kidding me? was all Dan thought as they reached the stairs and began to ascend them, leaving the patients and lounge behind.

"Honestly, I thought this place would be a lot worse," Hector spoke up. "I mean, it sucks, yeah, but I've seen laundromats that're worse…."

"Don't forget this is the spot where anyone doing an inspection would walk in, dude," Dan murmured back. "Los Midas may be one rotten apple, but it's not so bad that you'd get away with a torture chamber right out front. Plus, I didn't like the look of half those guys in the 'vegetable bin' back there. I've seen that look on dead men walking before."

"What do you mean, Dan?"

"Forget it; keep moving. I hate this joint already, and I don't want to see our bros end up like that."

The five reached the top of the stairs and turned right, just as they were instructed. As they went down the next hall, Dan slowed his step a bit. Just at the end of it was a pair of guards moving along; he wanted to make sure he didn't catch up to them, and so he kept it slow until they turned into an adjoining hallway.

Then, however, the gang leader began to hear voices just up ahead: it seemed there was a larger gathering a bit further. It made him frown—the fact was, he needed to look around this place a bit now to see where to go from here, and he'd prefer it if they didn't have to worry about guards picking up on them.

"Hey, guys?" Tony spoke up again, making Dan and the others pause and look to him. "Where's that Requiem dude? How's he even supposed to get here? What if he ditched us?"

As if to answer, Dan saw a shadow drop behind the four others, and heard a small sound of metal clicking on the tile floor. Tony and the others quickly looked up to it, and snapped back in alarm.

As for Dan, he looked a bit higher up, to see a hanging grating from one of the ducts swaying slightly, and below it, rising to his full height, the armored man in the Tengu mask.

"I'd appreciate, after this mission, you at least having enough faith in me to not wonder if I'm double-crossing you every time I leave your sight for five minutes," Requiem whispered dryly.

"Nice of you to drop in," Dan whispered back. Requiem looked up a bit at that, and the gang leader simply grinned. "Sorry; couldn't resist."

"We've been lucky so far, but I think we're as deep as we can get before getting attention," the armored man answered after a moment; Dan could almost picture him rolling his eyes. "There's at least six guards around the corner; it looks like a security station of some sort."

Dan looked up ahead again at that. Immediately, he moved himself back to the wall, and then inched along slightly. The others followed behind, although slowly and quietly. On reaching the edge, the gang leader looked to one of his boys and quietly snapped his fingers.

Frowning, and looking a little embarrassed, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a collapsible comb and mirror set, then passed it off to Dan, who opened it up and looked around the edge.

"Six of 'em, all right," he whispered. "A sty of hogs like this won't be trouble, but they might squeal loud enough for someone to hear. Especially since it looks like two of them are at some sort of alarm station…"

Requiem moved his fist to his other arm. "Then we'll have to disable the power at the same time. Get ready to move on my mark. Magneto Rang!"

He made a gesture, and in response lightning began to crackle around his right hand, as if it had suddenly been turned into a lightning rod in a storm. He knew that the crackling sound had to be audible enough for the guards to hear, but he continued to make more gestures, and as he did, the lightning snaked off of his hand and around into his palm.

He continued to twist his grip until the lightning formed what looked like an electric shuriken. While sounds of movement started to come around the corner, he snapped into action. Darting past Dan, he snapped around the corner and threw the weapon into their midst. Dan heard a baffled curse before a burst of electricity erupted from the other side, sending bolts erupting out.

Even though one of them actually struck the armored man, he didn't seem to notice as he shouted, "Now!"

Dan hardly needed a signal, but he knew those with him were probably so surprised by the spell that the cry helped snap them out of it, getting them to fall in behind the gang leader as he raced around the corner.

Whatever spell Requiem had just used, it had worked as a stunning blast, leaving all six men on the other side immobilized; more than that, the console behind them was now sparking, sputtering, and hissing from the electric discharge that had gone through it.

Ignoring that entirely, Dan charged right for the nearest guard, who got enough of his bearings to look up, only to have Dan quickly drop him with a single punch to the gut a second later.

Requiem quickly dove for the next one, lagging only a little behind, and slugged another with a metal fist. A third got enough bearings to try to at least advance on Dan and try to call an alarm, but he didn't get very far before the gang leader's foot lashed out, snapping his head away so violently it actually smashed backward into the sparking console, damaging it even more.

In spite of the narrow confines, the rest of the gang sprung into the fray, two of them tackling two more guards and quickly seizing them. One grabbed his around the neck in a sleeper hold, while the other used a fallen guard as leverage to leap up and kick the fifth in the head.

Only the sixth and final one managed to get out his own laser pistol and take aim at Dan. Unfortunately for him, he delayed long enough for Requiem to snap behind him, seize his sword's hilt, and yank it free; Dan caught a glimpse of the blade, and noted that the man behind the armor had covered it with black bandages, both decreasing its reflectivity and concealing any details.

At any rate, he placed it in the path of the weapon, quickly chanting another spell, wrapping it in a dark aura. When the shot went out a split second later, it bounced right off the weapon and rebounded into the man's right leg.

He screamed in pain, but before he could get too loud Requiem snapped forward and swung out with the pommel of the blade for his skull. A thud later, he joined the rest of his comrades.

The room still again, Dan looked about. One of the guards was still moving a little, so he lashed out with a kick to their head, dropping them again. That done, the group eased. Requiem returned his sword back to its sheath.

"Nice work; you fight well as a team."

Dan cracked his knuckles. "What, you think I picked these boys because they're good at one-liners?"

Hector gave a wince as a large crackle came from the console. He looked to it, just as a small flame lit up one of the keyboards. "Hey, how are we supposed to find our boys when that spell just fried all the gear?"

The armored figure merely chuckled as he stepped around the fallen bodies and gang members for the console. "There's more than one way to record information—I know an old man who'd give you a hard time for neglecting more 'tried-and-true' methods…." he commented as he went to the guard Dan had smashed into the console.

He was still splayed across the desk, and so Richard reached up, seized him by the shoulder, and yanked him off and to the floor. What was revealed underneath him was a clipboard with several sheets of paper. He took this up, and turned back to the others, beginning to go through it. "They needed some sort of backup on hard media for records—and in case a break-out damaged the computer systems, obviously. My guess is, they have a listing here…"

He only went about two papers in before finding something.

"…here we are—a list of new arrivals. There's a group containing one with the first name 'Zach' from last night; my guess is that's who you're looking for."

"Where are they?" The gang leader spoke up.

"According to this, the Intensive Ward."

Immediately, Dan advanced and snatched the list from Requiem's grasp, managing the catch the armored man off-guard. He glared at the listing soon after, and clenched his teeth. "Damn it—they're both in there!"

"That only means we have less time than before to waste," the warrior answered. He motioned to the men on the floor. "Stash them somewhere they can't get out of quickly, then get to the back of the Intensive Ward. Try not to be seen approaching. I'll be right behind you."

"What are you going to do?"

"Not much—just cover our tracks a bit."

Richard may not have been present for Booker's little rant in front of the Penitentiary, but by now he was beginning to fear that the demonstration he'd heard about earlier involved Dan's gang.

They may have been social deviants, but they were far from insane…and therefore the only reason they could have been in that ward to begin with was to be guinea pigs for Dr. Salinger; he dreaded to think what this upcoming demonstration was about to do to them.

He had a feeling that, as dark and disturbing as this island was, he wasn't going to like what he saw further inside. Still, he took a moment longer to help the others drag the unconscious men into a closet and melt the lock.

That done, he went back to the discarded clipboard, took up a pen and paper, and jotted a note about them being out to fetch IT personnel—that would hopefully get them half an hour at least. After that, he again leapt into the ductwork, while Dan and his company proceeded on foot.

Locating the Intensive Ward wasn't hard; whereas the Penitentiary was the largest building, the Intensive Ward was something else entirely. One could spot it from a distance—it didn't even look like a conventional building, prison, asylum, or otherwise.

It seemed more like an old fortification…a keep, if you will, in the midst of a castle. The top tapered so thin, you could mistake it for a watchtower. He supposed one couldn't rule out whether this island had once been an island fortress of a sort; it certainly made sense, and would have made it easier to adapt into a secure facility.

He held only until he saw Dan and his group exit, rapidly making their way to the castle-like structure, before he started making his way over on more of the gothic gargoyle pillars. As he moved, he put two fingers to his ear.

"All right, Jade Hawk—we're en route to the Intensive Ward—anything you can tell us?"

"The Intensive Ward is one of the original structures prior to the island being used as an asylum; it used to be a lighthouse. Nowadays, it's co-opted as a searchlight. I've got a few structural blueprints we picked up from being contracted for remodeling …give me a second…." A ten second pause. "…Right. Looks like there've been a lot of alterations around the base, but it seems to be the layout of your usual jail.

The upper levels are where they keep the most severe patients for treatment, at least according to these blueprints. The floor level is the lobby, lounge, and operating theater; in between are all manner of jail cells and emergency treatment. Where are you heading in?"

"Starting in the back."

"Good move—slightly fewer security installations there…at least, that're on the record."

It took about another minute of maneuvering, but it worked out well—both Dan's group and Richard managed to make their way around to the back without causing a stir.

They met in the one stand of vegetation that still had a few dried leaves on it. As Dan led his group behind some bushes, Richard touched down in a nearby withered tree, on the heaviest branch. From here, they were about twenty five yards from the rear entrance, and they took a moment to assess the situation.

This would have been easier if it was night, but the landscape they stood on was like a great, uneven, layered cake of rock: sheer, smooth, and unscalable from the sea; it was wet and hard to maintain good footing even where they hid. Hence, between the land and the sea, the security staff had posted only two guards to act as security for this approach—and the landscape was so uneven that all they could do was pace along the building's rear wall, looking around. Requiem, Dan, and his boys stayed easily out of sight by staying low to the ground and behind their respective covers.

Once their pacing took them away from the group and facing the wrong direction, Dan looked skyward, spotting his associate above him."So, Requiem, you know a shortcut inside this place?"

"No, but that's why I'm going to make one," Richard answered as his right hand clenched. "And when I do, any remaining cover or secrecy we have will be blown, so it will be nonstop battle until we're back to shore and heading through that warp tunnel. From here on in, even a single wasted moment might cost one or more lives, so everyone better be ready."

Dan turned back to the others. Hector hesitated only a moment, but then quickly grabbed his outer clothes and swiftly stripped them. Once off, he took up his mask and put it on. The others quickly removed their own disguises and did the same. Hector and Tony didn't stop there, however; they had lifted two laser pistols from the guards they had dropped earlier, and now they wielded them and switched the safeties off. In moments, Dan had joined them, and all were prepared.

"Ready?"

"If there's any anxiety, it'll be gone when I start busting heads. Do it, man."

Richard grimaced beneath his own mask—his own heart was starting to race by now. Saying a silent mental prayer, he grasped his wrist again and concentrated: it took only moments to whip up the same Mist Bomb spell he had used last night. By now, the two guards were coming back around, but that was what he wanted.

Taking aim at the door, he swung his hand out and flung the misty gray sphere at it. A moment later, it made an audible impact, causing both guards to snap to it, but soon their surprise gave way to confusion as thick gray mist instantly erupted from the point of impact over the entire area. Combined with the already-gray skies, it was even darker and more impenetrable than last night.

Richard didn't give them a chance to try and shout in alarm or for help; he quickly leapt out of the tree and exposed Auro Solais again, hesitating only long enough to use Aura Edge a second time, sheathing it in a blazing aura. Even when he took off, though, Dan and the others were already advancing even faster, leaping over the bush and running into the mist.

At first they seemed to be blindly charging forward, until they heard one of the guards shifting his foot on the stone. In a heartbeat, Dan changed course; after charging forward two more steps, he launched himself into the cloud in a lunge, cocking back his fist as he sank inside. A cry was heard a moment later, stopped by the sound of a blow, and then a clang as the guard went slamming into the guardrail of the stairs at the entrance.

A second shifting and a mild cry came out, from the other guard reacting in alarm. At once, Tony snapped his hand out, flinging the rock he had taken up in the direction of the noise. Another cry soon resulted as it hit its mark.

Richard was impressed, but kept charging full-speed towards the sound of the voice. He soon plunged into the mist as well, and a second later the shadow of a hunched over, stunned guard came into view. Using his sword as a lantern, he rushed up to him and lashed out with a kick, flattening him as well.

The moment his foot returned to the ground, the prince snapped around and rushed straight up the short stairs to the metal doors of the rear entrance. Auro Solais flashed out, and he expected to cleave them right in two. Instead, to his surprise, a wall of green energy erupted over them that bore sufficient power to stop the aura-enhanced blade right in its tracks, like trying to shove the ends of two magnets with the same polarity together.

The young man's eyes enlarged a bit. —The building has its own energy shield? They must really not want anyone in here….

In spite of the mist, it looked like the others had seen the light from the shield, for they rapidly gathered behind Richard and froze, staring at the same sight. As the energy died down once again, he shouted out, before any of them could ask the obvious next question.

"The two of you that have guns!"

Immediately, Hector and Tony snapped back a bit, put on the spot.

"As soon as I slash the shield, shoot the opening at the weakest point—that should cause a backlash in the energy current and overload the system!"

The two didn't hesitate long. Both nodding, they raised their weapons and took careful aim at the doors ahead of them. As for Richard, he shifted the hilt of his sword to both hands and tightened his grip.

Inhaling once and pushing more of his power into the aura around the weapon, he again squatted and leapt into the air, deciding to let gravity help him out on this one. As in previous times, he easily sailed twenty yards into the air, and soon came down again, bringing the weapon over his head. Right as he reached the space in front of the doors, he swung down with all the might he could muster.

Again, the green shield came up…far larger and more vivid this time, and making an audible burning noise while giving off green energy sparks from the force of the slash.

In spite of the power of the aura and the sword behind it, the barrier still managed to hold —just barely— but also sustained a massive indentation within the surface. The moment Richard completed his slash, touching down on the ground with both his feet and sword tip, Tony and Hector opened fire at the same time into the middle of the dent.

A great, warped sound was heard, as if the barrier was a distorted music file playing, and the waves that made up the energy shield suddenly rippled like the surface of a pond with a stone thrown into it.

A moment later, with a twist, sections of the energy barrier totally fractured and collapsed, exposing the bare doors behind. In a flash, Richard shot up and lunged at them again, snapping out with his blade once again. This time, it went through unimpeded, and shredded the doors to ribbons.

The hole in the barrier only stayed for a moment, the shield rushing quickly in to reform. Seeing it would do so before anyone had a chance to react, Richard did something rather on-the-spur-of-the-moment, but which he figured Greymont was capable of: stretching out both of his hands, he literally seized the sides of the energy barrier tear he had made.

Such a move was normally extremely foolish at best, and suicidal at worse; the force of a standard energy shield was enough to require all of the strength of someone like Orion to pierce—but to be in the middle of an energy shield, rather than trying to break it? Even an elite Magna Centurion would be crushed after only a short time.

In spite of the power and durability Greymont granted him, Richard soon felt his body being interlaced with intense and agonizing magics. He went rigid as his entire body felt simultaneously electrified and burned. Only the hit he had taken from Orion back in Zaylor was worse than the agony flooding him; it was almost too much for him to stay conscious through.

"Move!" he was somehow able to shout.

Luckily, Dan was on top of things: he had already seized the most hesitant of his group and shoved him through an opening made in the space between Richard's arm and leg, then immediately grabbed another and did the same to him. Hector and Troy dashed forward, one going through the other opening, and the other going under Richard's legs, of all the places; Dan quickly brought up the rear. All in all, it took less than three seconds…though it felt like ten minutes of raw torture.

The moment they were in, he let his arms fall, but threw himself backwards in the process, letting the recoil of the barrier throw him forward and into the building. Somehow, in spite of feeling agony all over, he managed to land on his feet, and keep his balance this time as well. The energy barrier immediately slammed shut again behind him.

The young man paused for a moment to breathe. He was still sore from that stunt, and he could feel that, in spite of the armor, his hands were burned from that little stunt. He painfully flexed and relaxed his fingers a few times. It was clear those alone would have to be doctored a bit when this was over; until then, he'd have to grin and bear it.

Dan rose to full height and regarded Richard with disbelief. "Dude, you all right after that? That could have taken your hands off!"

Glad no one could see him wincing, Richard returned his sword to his sheath as he kept trying to shake it off. "It's good to have strong armor," he answered as smoothly as he could. "Just the same, I'll try not to do something like that again."

You okay, Greymont?

For the first time since they started their relationship, Richard actually felt the armor around him shift, as if it too was wincing. I'd really like some ice right about now, Boss …ow… but I'll be okay. Just warn me next time you're going to jam me into something hot!

Er…Sorry. Kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision….

The young man grimaced and was about to apologize more, when he and the others snapped to attention as a loud, blaring noise sounded around them. He looked about, and saw that there were claxons mounted into iron on the walls in here; they had lit up red and begun to sweep around.

He felt his stomach sink a bit more: they certainly weren't fooling around with security in this building, compared to the others. He was already fearful of what else was waiting for them.

"Let's not waste any more time," he stated, getting on the move again. "The sheet said they went to 'Block X'. Just break through until we get there, and watch each other's backs. Let's go!"

At once, the armored man took off, headed for the nearest set of stairs. He didn't have to go far, luckily; the main floor of the building seemed to be the most contemporary and the best-maintained, and apparently they figured whoever was coming through these doors was supposed to be there, and needed easy access to the stairs. Ignoring the sirens and lights as much as he could, Richard started to tear up the stairs two at a time.

He only got up to the third floor before one of the side doors on the stairwell opened up and a small squad of guards ran out, instantly spotting them. Having no time to waste, Richard immediately leapt upward an additional six steps, seized one of them, and slammed him back into the concrete wall of the stairwell corridor; a follow-up hit pounded him unconscious.

The other attackers spun around on him in alarm and the feat he had just accomplished, leaving them easy prey as Dan and his company leapt on them. To be honest, Richard winced a bit as he saw one of them seize their opponent and throw them over the railing; there was no telling how many people in here were actually crooked, and how many were just guards doing their jobs…. The cracking sound that went out from the one Dan hit sounded like it came from vertebrae, too.

However, he gritted his teeth and pushed on—no time to worry about morality in this. Pushing onwards, they went up past the fourth and fifth floor before running into a separate group, this one coming down the stairs.

They lasted no longer than the first, again caught off-guard by Richard's charge. This time, he swung out his sword to cleave through their own weapons and stun them, then moved to follow-up slashes.

As the obstacles continued to head his way, despite the moments of regret, especially when he decapitated a guard that stumbled, the son of Andross Zilos forced himself to focus on his main objective.

Before, he had been reluctant to kill someone trying to kill him in Zaylor; now he found himself cutting down people merely standing in his way with little-to-no hesitation. Of course, there was a difference now.

Now, he actually hated the people he was fighting.

Finally, on the next floor, Richard spotted one of the signs pointing to the access listing off 'Block X', along with some other blocks. There was another thick, metal security door here, but he had a feeling this time it would have been considered ample security, and there wasn't another energy barrier.

With that in mind, he again slashed out with his enhanced blade and cut the door to bits. Lashing out with a foot, he kicked the pieces out of the frame and quickly burst into the hallway beyond, brandishing his sword and trying to get the drop on anyone who might have been waiting in that area beyond.

Fortunately, there weren't any guards there yet. Not only that, but it seemed the sirens and alarms were keyed in on specific points of the facility, meaning that this area was still quiet at the moment. The rest of the gang soon poured out behind him and got ready; the six looked about momentarily.

No one arrived to 'greet' them. However, that aside, Richard was soon feeling his most uncomfortable yet.

This part of the facility was the most disturbing: it had actually been painted more recently, but the paint was an old, stale …even, if this was even possible, sickening… hue, reminiscent of tartar.

The stench didn't help—this area didn't smell oddly musty like the patients in the Penitentiary, nor did it stink of heavy bleach like the areas where the staff went. This was something altogether unwholesome and rotten; something foul that defied accurate description.

Richard could still remember the stench of that bloody hill in Zaylor, and the mounded, burned bodies that were there. This was something else; something far more sickening, like a mix of chemicals and decaying flesh, covered with fungal rot.

It made one of the gang members gag, and another hack and spit: even they realized this was the worst place in the facility. The lighting flickered so badly that it periodically plunged sections of the hallway into complete, black darkness.

When it was on, it illuminated unnaturally thin and stark corridors that had been warped and twisted by the constant breezes of the sea until the entire passageway was slightly crooked.

The floors here were metal; not hard tile; not wood; metal. Flecks of black mold were on the walls, along with other stains from something, ones that didn't look like they had grown there, but were something that had never quite been scrubbed out.

The floor was the same, but there were also splatters of puddles here and there that had rusted the steel. Richard didn't know what they were, but the reddish tint brought something to mind.

The whole place radiated horror and death; Richard had visited mausoleums in the Rakthian Empire that were more welcoming.

Dan cracked his knuckles a bit, his own unease getting hard to conceal. "…Well, this area sure has 'messed-up' written all over it, so I think we're in the right place…."

At once, a loud scream, far more hysterical and wild than any of those from down in the Penitentiary, echoed through the chamber. Richard instantly snapped to the source, drawing his sword again; Dan and his boys likewise put their fists (and two plasma pistols) up in alarm. The scream continued to ring out, but slowly died down again, leaving all six of them more uncomfortable than ever.

Swallowing slightly, Richard turned and motioned to them, then took the point and began to inch forward again—in spite of their need for haste, he found himself sneaking once again. None of the gang members called him out on that, though.

After moving forward a short distance to the first corner, Richard stopped and slowly turned his head down the hall where the scream had come from. There were no enemies present —just rows of cells— and so, in spite of growing reluctance, he began to move down the passage. Dan came behind; the others with them hesitated a bit before following.

These cells were iron-barred, but the bars were spaced far enough apart to see clearly between them. They were dimly lit, made up with rough stone bricks like dungeon cells, and were so tiny they were practically closets.

There was scarcely enough room to stand in between the beds and the single toilet in each—and "beds" was a tremendous stretch, as they looked little better than steel slabs, possibly because that's what they were.

The inmates inside, a mixture of men and women, were either standing in the one corner of their cells in which they could or laying down; they had little else to do. When the group walked by, Richard expected some sort of reaction, but most of them that seemed to be enough "there" to look back at them only stared, full of curiosity and confusion.

The silence of this passageway was almost eerily complete; as Richard walked through and saw one hollow, vacant look after another staring back at him, the place almost seemed too quiet to be real.

The inmates were so silent that they almost didn't seem to be real people, but rather some sort of ghostly wraiths. The fact that most of the inmates were naked made them seem even more like discarded corpses; like people who had long since met their end in this place, and were still milling about their cells. The young man subconsciously walked slower and lighter, so he wouldn't have to hear his own footsteps.

Suddenly, he heard a clatter from his right. He snapped his eyes towards it, and saw a wild-looking woman with her head shaved and no fingernails, eyes wild as a ravenous beast's, charge up to the bars and reach out desperately through them.

"Help me! Please, God, help-AHH!"

In spite of his brave front, Richard snapped back in fear as the woman's body approached the bars, and an audible magical/electrical jolt snapped through the air and into her body, literally throwing her back with sufficient force to slam her into the rear of her own cell. Richard didn't look back to the others after that, but, beneath his helmet, his eyes had shrunk into pinpricks, and his heart was racing. He forced himself to only look forward and pick up the pace.

That was the worst of them, but the rest weren't much better. Whenever there weren't more hollow looks, they had a few people babbling for help, although those ones were mumbling, so it seemed they weren't aware of what was going on.

One or two seemed to genuinely weakly plead, but the rest were out of their minds; one of them ran up to the bars, and just started wagging his tongue and laughing insanely at them. Another was banging his head against the wall to the point of drawing blood, but didn't seem intent on stopping anytime soon.

"I'm no doctor, man…but I'm pretty sure this is just plain messed-up…" Hector muttered after a time, likely just trying to ease the tension.

Dan scoffed a bit as he kept going. A moment later, he paused at one of the cells, causing the others to halt momentarily and look themselves: the inmate in this one was neither lying in bed nor standing, but was face down on the floor.

Furthermore, he seemed to have some medical equipment attached to him, along with an IV line. His terminal with patient information, unlike the others at each cell, was glowing red with a note taped on it. The gang leader reached out and snatched it, reading over the data; he swore a moment later.

"What's with him?" one of his gang asked.

"They got this poor mook scheduled for a lobotomy—says he failed some sort of enhancement test and developed 'Synapse Syndrome'…."

At once, Richard reached around and advanced, looking at the sheet himself. "Are you serious?"

Dan turned to him. "Says it right there. What the hell is Synapse Syndrome?"

"A condition where brain signals get crossed, and end up triggering the pain receptors too intensely. Even the slightest injury can be fatal to them—but I've never heard of a treatment that can cause that as a side effect…" His voice lowered. "…Assuming they were trying to cure these people in the first pla—Oh, god…."

The gang leader grimaced. "I don't like the way you said that."

The man's armored hand pointed to the sheet. "They say the cause is that he 'failed to take Kaisonite injection'. Did they seriously try to infuse raw Kaisonite into a human being!?"

"Say what!?" Tony exclaimed. The others registered similar shock: they may have been gang members, but even a layman knew you couldn't go around injecting raw Kaisonite into people—that ranked somewhere between putting radioactive waste into your veins and doing so with pure acid. Hector looked to another terminal, then moved down and looked at two more.

"This whole row says the same thing!" he called. "No wonder these suckers are so fried! What the hell is this?"

"A reason to make 'kicking the Doc's face in when I see him' an addition to this mission if he did any of this to Zach or Jessica." Dan snarled, crumpling up the paper and lashing out with a punch at the terminal. In spite of having not summoned his metal fist, he still smashed the entire terminal into crumpled scrap. "I pity the next punk who tries to stop us; that's for damn sure."

Immediately, what sounded like a metallic growl answered that comment, coming from behind the group. Richard winced beneath his helmet: they had gotten too distracted by this latest sight, and had given more security time to catch up to them…and, from the sound of it, this batch wasn't human. Two of the gang members looked rather fearful on hearing the sound, and all six fighters snapped around to find the source.

Lots of little clicks rang out on the metal floor as sets of claws attached to quartets of paws slowly drummed down the corridor, attached to what looked like, in all honesty, armored canines. —Not conventional dogs, of course; more like oversized twists on sighthounds, mixed with what appeared to be dire wolves, ones almost as big as tigers.

Their own eyes (optics, if one was being technical) gleamed a bit red, but that was nothing compared to their mouths when they opened them and revealed gleaming, sharpened metal teeth, every bit as deadly-looking as a Grizanaught's.

The AI systems inside them approximated true beasts so well that they gave out snarls, which, while metallic in nature, were nevertheless quite fearsome, and just as bloodthirsty as the worst dog's. There were only two, but one would have been plenty of trouble alone.

"Jaeger Cogs…."

Dan looked at the armored man a bit. "Say what?"

"Battle drones used for AI security in prisons, or in situations where combat requires soldiers who'll fight without caring about the value of their own lives. This is the Garou-type." Richard answered.

The one on the left advanced a bit more and exposed more of its teeth. Rather than growl or bark, though, a monotonous, mechanical voice came from within.

"Attention, intruders: you have entered a classified area. Surrender, or your lives will be forfeit."

"Think I'm scared of you, Fido?" Dan spat back. He began to whip back one of his fists and advance. "I got your surrender right here…."

At once, the Jaeger Cog responded—but not in the way Dan expected. Instead, it lowered its head, hunched over, and made hydraulic clicks as a pair of plasma beam cannon barrels deployed from its back and took aim at the gang leader. The blond was rather surprised, but quickly seized his belt buckle and chanted.

He spoke out the last word of the Shield Arm spell just as the robot opened fire; with only an instant to spare, he whipped his arm around as it flattened out into durable metal, intercepting the bolts. However, the Cogs weren't firing conventional plasma shots—these were focused bursts, and, as a result, the concussive blasts whipped Dan's arm back, and jarred the rest of him. The machine quickly tried to follow up with a second salvo to finish him, but the gang leader gritted his teeth and snapped back down, digging in both feet and intercepting the second pair.

"Magical energies detected; target is a significant threat," the second Jaeger Cog announced as it hunched over. More hydraulic snaps were heard, but this time it wasn't guns popping out—rather, a pair of razor-sharp blades emerged from the sides. "Responding with maximum force."

The machine took off, not going straight at Dan but rather, moving as fast as a panther, bolted forward, leapt into the air, ricocheted off of one of the corridor walls, and lunged straight at Richard. Fortunately, his blade was already out, so he snapped it around and dug his own feet in to intercept one of the blades as the metal beast shot by.

A sound of clashing blades rang out as the machine hit the ground, but it didn't stop; the end of its tail suddenly snapped open, and a sizzle of voltage snapped out from it, revealing it to be an electric prod. Richard looked up to it, but was too slow to react before it snapped forward like a scorpion's stinger and struck him in the torso.

Much sooner than he liked, Richard found himself racked with intense pain again; that electrocuting stab wasn't meant to incapacitate, but to kill. He heard Greymont cry out in pain within his own head, the dragon's cries mixing with his own agony as he felt the potent jolt driven through his body. Yet the truly deadly part was that it left him stunned, and the Jaeger Cog, seeming to realize its opponent hadn't been killed by that stab, quickly reared back, and readied to pounce again, aiming its blades for a finishing strike.

It never got the chance. By now, Tony and Hector had gotten enough of a bead on this one to open fire from either side; while Hector's shot harmlessly hit armor plating, Tony's managed to strike it in a joint on the side, causing the robot to miss as it faltered momentarily.

That was all the time Richard needed to recover, bite through his pain, and cast a spell of his own. By the time the machine was able to lunge at him again, his Metal Morph technique had turned his right arm into a blade, and he intercepted both of the Jaeger Cog's with his own two.

Grunting and bringing his enhanced strength to bear, Richard shoved back and forced the metal beast off, aborting its charge and putting it back down in front of him.

Again responding quickly, the Cog instantly tried to counter with its tail once more, but this time Richard was faster as he inverted his blade arm and pivoted his elbow around, smacking into the robot's own head hard enough to jar it to one side. With his opponent busy reacquiring its target, Richard quickly leapt back to gain some distance.

The machine quickly retracted its blades and popped out its own plasma beam cannons, but it was too slow; Richard had raised his sword into the air and cast a new spell, the Mana Slash technique. The aura around his blade blazed even more intensely than before, and he slashed it downwards in front of himself. At once, the aura enlarged even further, then snapped off of the blade, becoming a wave of raw magical energy flying straight at the military drone; before it had a chance to fire, the spell connected and shredded the thing in two, along with the surface of the floor. It continued to shoot right by after bisecting it, until it hit the rear corridor wall, cutting deep into that as well before it dissipated. The Jaeger Cog fell into two halves before power cells in both ignited, blowing the rest of it to bits.

As for Dan, he had managed to get enough of his bearings to stand his ground against the machine. Even as it continued to fire in bursts, by now he not only had managed to dig himself in well enough to weather each attack, but he was motile enough to quickly dart into its line of fire again before it could shoot any of his companions.

Unfortunately, the rest of his gang could do little; the two unarmed members couldn't risk getting close, and the rounds fired by Hector and Tony only impacted the surroundings as they struggled to get a clear bead on the agile machine.

Nevertheless, the constant firing wasn't totally in vain; Dan slowly managed to advance on the machine, letting whatever shots drove it into a new position assist him by moving toward the same location.

Finally, he struck. As the Jaeger Cog snapped at him, he suddenly twisted his Shield Arm, so that the shots were deflected this time rather than intercepted, and then dashed in, whipping back his other fist in the process. Just as on the night in the courtyard, it rapidly became encased in metal and enlarged, forming the massive piston around the elbow joint.

As he got into range, the piston hissed and snapped back, locking into place. The machine tried to move away, but the gang leader suddenly applied an extra burst of speed, and swung the piston arm down and up in an uppercut gesture, not only slamming it with sufficient force to compress its head region like a dented aluminum can, but knocking it skyward as well.

Not satisfied with that, as Dan smashed his target into the air, he glared at the metal canine and shouted, "You're wasting my time, Fido; I'm not here to play catch! Jackhammer Grind!"

Dan quickly chanted another spell as his Shield Arm altered into a piston-fist as well…only this one wasn't like the huge one from before; it was smaller, and less "heavy-duty". As the machine came down, he snapped out his first arm one more time, simultaneously morphing it into the same form, and darted underneath it. Both arms snapped up and went off together, smashing into the falling Jaeger Cog with such fury and power it was as if both arms had become the eponymous jackhammers—jackhammers being used like fists.

Richard, looking up from his own opponent, swore he could hear the sounds of metallic drilling as Dan pounded again and again, far faster than the prince could ever hope to react to or follow. The machine didn't stand a chance.

A rain of, hot, battered metal bits soon rained down around Dan; in less than eight seconds, he had torn the thing into scrap. Cutting off the power, he waited only for the last hunk of metal to come down before he whipped his arms aside and kicked it like an Electro Ball down the hall, knocking it against the corridor wall with a loud clatter.

Richard tried not to stand in awe too long. He had assumed that trick with the piston in one arm was Dan's biggest move, but apparently he had a larger and deadlier repertoire.

He hated to think what would have happened to Greymont —and him, for that matter— last night if he had gone against him with magic. At any rate, with the enemies gone, he rose up and relaxed for a moment along with the others.

"Well, those two weren't as painful as they could've been, but we were in a confined space," Richard muttered. "If they send a whole pack after us, or they come in waves, this'll get real tricky."

"Bring 'em on—I'd prefer to smash them all in one shot than have to worry about picking them off one at a time," Dan retorted, turning his head skyward. "Hope you can hear that, you bastard! Throw whatever you want at me—nothing's keeping me from breaking whatever you send our way!"

Richard grimaced a bit at his calling out a challenge to more of those things, but at that moment, a distant female voice shouted back from down the hall.

"…Dan? Dan, is that you!? Help me! Please!"

The young man saw every member of the gang tense on hearing that. "That's Jessica!" Hector cried.

"Then they are on this floor after all! Come on!" Dan shouted, taking off at once.

Richard and the others quickly fell in behind, the prince fine with letting him go ahead for now. After going down another corridor of lost souls, they came to a short staircase .

They quickly dashed up it, and entered another short hallway leading up to a single room with a red, dome-shaped door. Even as they neared, they heard more frantic struggling and cries for help, making it clear this was the right spot. Moments later, with another expression of force, they burst into a circular room.

This one wasn't any more clean or hospitable than the rest of the Intensive Ward, but it did have a new disturbing facet about it: the cells in here were even smaller, barely accommodating the individual stretcher inside each one.

Much as with the "beds" in the previous chamber, these weren't so much "stretchers" as "big metal tables on wheels". Each one had an individual on it, completely immobilized in a straitjacket.

Obviously not satisfied with that, the staff had also covered them in chains attached to their tables, and their faces and heads were concealed behind masks. An escape artist in a magic show couldn't have looked more bound.

There was one exception to the rest of them: a single female with short black hair and brown eyes didn't have a mask, and she was fighting as hard and frantically as she could, trying to break free, although she was so tightly bound all she could do was shake her chains a bit.

She looked rather wild and hysterical, but in spite of that her eyes had a sense of cognition in them—she was scared out of her mind, but, unlike the others on the floor, it seemed she still had one.

Dan quickly ran to her side. "Jessica, calm down! We're here! It's going to be okay!"

The woman continued to tensely fight for a moment, but only because she couldn't see that far in front of her with her head strapped down along with everything else. On seeing Dan's face, though, she snapped her eyes to him momentarily, just long enough for recognition to sink in. Immediately, she eased considerably, and took in slower, deeper breaths. She began to smile for a moment…until Richard also walked into her range of vision.

Immediately she screamed in panic, and began to fight again. "What the hell!? What is that!?"

Richard actually snapped back in alarm, momentarily stunned at that response, but then he realized that, between his ghoulish appearance and the fact that he didn't know what they had already done to this woman —which, whatever it was, had no doubt left her in a rather bad state— that he was probably a horrific sight.

Luckily, the rest of the gang quickly ran up as well, and Tony shouted as he came in, "Whoa! Whoa! It's cool! Chill, Jess—he's not one of the nutcases here! This dude's Requiem—he's the reason we're not all locked up in here with you!"

"Eh…no offense," one of the other gang members weakly chimed in.

"He saved us from the cops, and got us in here," Dan reassured her. "You can trust him."

Jessica looked at Richard again, but seemed to realize everyone else was fine around him. She slowly calmed down a second time. "Fine, whatever—just get me out of this damn thing. We've got to get to Zach before it's too late."

Dan reached out to grab one of the chains and chanted a spell to quickly turn his arm metal again, then grasped the end and pulled, attempting to yank it out with raw force. "Where is Zach? What the hell have they been doing to you guys?"

Jessica's face turned uncomfortable as she shook her head. "I…I don't know…. They just came in here and took him out…twenty minutes ago, maybe. I don't know what they wanted with him, just that there was a creepy-looking bald guy there, looking at him like he was a piece of meat…" She began to visibly tremble at the memory. "…talking about if he'd 'still be so defiant after the experiment'…. Oh, god…." She looked up fearfully to Dan. "These people are psychopaths! They stripped us nude before we even got off the ship; jabbed us with these prod things, like we were cows…!"

Seeing her losing her composure again, Richard spoke up in an even tone. "Listen…about the man who came for Zach. Did you happen to catch the name 'Dr. Salinger'?"

"Wh…what?" she answered disconnectedly. "Maybe; I don't know. As soon as we were in, they pumped us full of some junk, and I've been in and out of it ever since…" She winced and blinked. "…I remember waking up seeing a bunch of guys in lab coats staring at us, and…and that bald guy…he's a monster. He doesn't even care why people were brought here…." She started to shake again. "They…They did all sorts of things this morning; I…I don't even know what…then they said there was going to be a big 'experiment'…and they went for my table…and Zach screamed…" Her eyes started to shimmer. "he screamed to take him instead…."

"Hey, snap out of it, Jess. Stay with us!" Dan cut off as he grunted, struggling with the chains a bit more. "We're getting him and you out of here; Hammer Wolves never leave one of their pack to die. Now, where is he?"

"I don't know," the woman murmured as she clenched her eyes shut, trying to keep it together. "I can barely remember anything…. Just…just that creepy bald guy saying 'time for the demonstration'…."

"Okay," Richard answered, causing the other gang members to look up at him. "'Demonstration', right? Remember what those men said at the truck? He wants everyone to see this—which means he won't be tucked away in a private corner; he'll need someplace with a lot of elbow room." He gestured behind him. "The first floor of this building has an operating theater. My guess is, that's where. We'd better hurry now—we've got the guards' response and whatever they're doing to him working against us."

"You can feel free to help, you know," Dan said through clenched teeth.

Richard sighed slightly beneath the mask, but then quickly snapped out Auro Solais. Luckily, he could cut these off with one swipe, the way they were arranged….

"Wait."

The mechanical voice that abruptly called from behind the group was unmistakable: another Jaeger Cog. Immediately, the gang snapped around, guns out, sword up, and fists at the ready.

Sure enough, there was another Garou-type now in the room with them, having come in while they were talking to Jessica. This one was purple and blue, unlike the previous ones, and also wasn't immediately attacking; instead, it simply sat on the floor, much like a normal canine might.

The machine spoke again. "Before you leave, take me with you."

The gang froze, continuing to stare at the machine. However, it didn't deploy weapons, sound an alarm, or do anything else; it simply sat there and looked at them. After a moment, they started to look hesitant, and involuntarily their arms began to lower.

"Guys…did I get a whiff of some of the drugs in here, or did this drone just ask us to, um, help it escape?" Hector asked.

"This some sort of lame mind game?" Dan scoffed. "Trying to throw us off? There's no way a drone would want to 'escape' someplace it had to guard!"

"True, but the orone isn't the one currently talking," the machine answered, turning slightly and pointing its nose toward one of the cells. "That's me—please get me out of here."

Richard glanced to the cell it was pointing to. Not much to see: just another bound and masked body. It was impossible to even make out any details of its figure. At any rate, it was as motionless as a corpse. While the other gang members continued to hesitate, he looked back to the Cog.

"The person in that cell isn't even moving."

"In case you haven't noticed, my movement is limited at the moment. I can, however, still move my mouth underneath that sedation mask. I don't really want to waste time with explanations, but I hacked this Jaeger Cog while it was watching me during a session, and during another I lessened the tranquilizing on my cell security system settings enough to keep myself from being rendered completely unconscious."

Richard again looked at the cell. He thought he could just barely see movement in their chest, indicating that they were breathing. However, he kept frowning as he looked back. "Why should we? This place may be corrupt, but I have no idea of knowing whether you're an innocent bystander or a deranged lunatic under that mask."

"I don't belong here," the Garou instantly answered. "But, even if you don't believe that, I can help get you out of here before you get yourselves or your friends killed."

Dan snorted. "I think we're doing just fine, mutt."

"No, you're not. You're about five seconds from killing your friend on the table," the machine retorted. "You're trying to remove her restraints; if you try to release those without authorization, there's a mount at the back of her head with a needle that immediately shoots into the cerebellum and injects a nerve agent; death is instantaneous."

Jessica went white as a sheet. Dan immediately took his hand away from the chain. He looked again at the back of his friend's head. Sure enough, there was some sort of mechanical device strapped to the back of her skull.

"You have to disable the power grid if you want to free her," the Jaeger Cog went on. "I'd do it myself, but this drone has a safeguard to shut it down if it gets too near the relay."

The gang eased up a bit more. Richard himself looked about the room, but he had no idea what the power grid or relay would look like; he wasn't a specialist, and there were wires and terminals everywhere. He looked back to the machine soon after. "All right, where is it?"

"Promise me you'll release me too first."

The prince frowned beneath his helmet. "What makes you so sure you want to come with us? We're going to be on the run after this, and we have our own sets of problems—none of us are in much of a position to help you, much less get you anywhere."

"I don't care where you're going or who you are; anyplace is better than here," the Cog responded. "I have no family, no home, and I haven't seen the sun in over a decade. Dying in a gutter is better than being Dr. Salinger's personal lab rat any longer."

"Guys, we don't have time for this!" Tony suddenly said. "We need to get to Zach!"

"Anyone can make up a sob story." Hector spat. "Requiem, if you free this guy, we don't know if he'll carve us up into mincemeat as soon as our back is turned!"

Dan, however, was more hesitant, letting out a groan. "I may have been sold out less than a day ago, but I'd almost want to free a nutcase, just to give the sick bastards here a headache. Even if I didn't, I don't feel cool leaving anyone in this hellhole."

"Speaking of which, can you get me off this goddamn table already—in a way that doesn't kill me!?" Jessica cried.

It seemed the decision was being left to Richard. He didn't think whoever was in that cell was lying. Even if it wasn't someone untrustworthy, the fact remained that, as demented as this place was, he wouldn't put it past them to betray their rescuer. —Yet they didn't have much longer to waste; any second now, a squad of Jaeger Cogs could burst in. —And there was a key part of his plan still missing: letting out lesser inmates to hopefully cover their back. Otherwise, getting down to the lower level would be nearly impossible, and they had to go there to free Zach; there'd be higher security there to begin with. On the other hand, letting out prisoners in maximum security….

I might unleash a whole troop of madmen…but, looking around this place, I think the real psychos are the ones running the show.

Don't let me regret this….

"Fine—but if you're tricking us, I assure you, I'll make you regret it."

"Rear wall, on the terminal with the large, glowing red orb—look at the wires on the right. From top to bottom, pull out the second, fifth, seventh, sixth, and eighth, in that order, then put the eighth wire into the second hole. Hurry it up—you said you were short on time, right?"

Frowning again beneath his helmet, and seeing Hector frantically shake his head 'no' while Tony looked more than a little uneasy, Richard turned around and marched up to the relay terminal.

There were a number of wires on it, but the directions the Jaeger Cog gave were clear enough; he did as he was ordered. The moment the eighth wire was put into the last hole, crackling and snapping sounds came out from within the terminal. Several sparks appeared, smoke came out, and, with one last zap, the entire thing died.

The rest of the lights in the chamber rapidly dimmed, going into emergency power mode; the sound of electricity humming throughout the entire floor disappeared. Finally, to the tune of several doors down the hall giving clicks as the locks disengaged, the lights on Jessica's restraint monitors stopped glowing.

It was done, and couldn't be undone, so Richard ignored the slowly growing sound of inmates moving around, some of them beginning to grunt or even bark like dogs as they grew more restless, and went back to Jessica.

Dan had already gotten to work, grabbing the chains again. He seemed to have gotten one loose this time, but that was too slow for Richard; snapping his blade out, he swung it around and over like a cleaver on half of the chains binding Jessica, and, with a loud clang, severed them.

The woman gave out a mild cry at seeing the glowing sword swept over her like that, but seeing herself suddenly able to writhe to one side, she froze again. She blinked a few times, and then swallowed. "Uh…thanks."

Dan quickly seized the straitjacket ties, and ripped them off like they were wrapping paper; Richard replaced his sword. "Thank me when we're all out in one piece."

With that, he looked back to the cell. The Garou unit had wasted little time; the moment the door was open, it had entered and applied its own metal fangs to ripping the restraints off, one after another, then quickly shifting to the straitjacket ties and gnawing through them with scissor-like bites. It took a bit of time, and as soon as Jessica was free, Dan quickly moved up to Richard's side and waited to see what would come from this.

Once the body beneath was free, the figure finally leaned up, albeit very slowly and disjointedly, almost as if it was some sort of thin puppet or marionette, rather than a human being. When the arms came out, they were thin and pale. Rising up to the round gray helmet, they grasped it and slowly pulled it off.

Dan actually gave a start at what was beneath, as did the other gang members—it wasn't exactly what they had expected.

For one thing, it wasn't even a man.

While it didn't look like she had been in the light, or had a decent meal, in the time period she'd mentioned, she was also clearly a woman. Her eyes were unusually dark, almost gray, and her hair, while a bit thin, came down to her shoulders, and was a mixture of pink, blue, and purple strands. She tossed the helmet to one side, and took a deep breath, as if she had come up for air, and then turned her head and looked to the group sourly.

"What did you expect me to look like?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

Dan stared a bit longer, but, on seeing that, even if this figure was a murderer or psychopath, he could snap her in two with one hand, he shrugged. "Honestly? I thought you were going to be a wrinkled old man. Aren't you a little small to be a high-security inmate?"

"Aren't you a little stupid to be a gang leader?" she lashed back, her tone surprisingly sharp and acidic. However, she swallowed soon after, seeming to remember the situation, and spoke more quietly. "Thanks for freeing me, by the way."

"As I said before, thank me when we're all out in one piece," Richard answered, "miss…?"

"Claire de la Lune," she answered. She looked down to the Jaeger Cog afterward, who was still perched next to her. "Good work, Alphonse."

An odd mechanical voice responded from the machine, different from the one that it had used when she was talking through it—this was more of a sonic feedback type, like on a PA, and barely decipherable. "Master Lune, I must point out that the chances of us escaping this island are still slim at best."

Claire sighed, before grunting as she forced her lower body to turn off over the edge of the table. "Just 'Claire', remember? Besides, I think that, if these guys broke in, they have a way back out…."

Dan snickered, shaking his head at this. "Wow—great escape plan, Miss Hacker. You spend years hacking into the security system and this drone, and, in the end, your plan boiled down to 'wait for someone else to have a jailbreak and then latch onto them'?"

As her feet went over the side, Claire glared rather angrily at him. "Your little lady friend right there is about two hours of treatment away from having a total breakdown, and she hasn't even been here a full day. You spend a decade in here and tell me how good you are at thinking up plans then. It also doesn't help that Salinger was monitoring my brainwaves…."

An eyebrow raised beneath Richard's mask. "He was watching you that closely, and you had time to do all these hacks?"

"Alphonse, here, is from years ago, back when I got a little freedom by 'going along' with it," Claire answered as she grit her teeth and inched toward the side of the table, before putting her foot down and slowly rising. "He said he'd let me out if I went with it, but, as the years went on, I saw it was just to con me into helping him with his research."

"And just what is his 'research' to begin with?" the prince asked. "What was he doing to those people in there?"

Claire pushed herself up with a grunt. "Anything and everything; doesn't really matter to him. Life, sentience, morality…none of that means a thing to Salinger; it's only meant less and less over the past ten years, the more he gets to do whatever he likes here…. He sees everyone as experimental monkeys, nothing more. He doesn't care if your brain is fully functional unless he's probing it. On that note…I hope you all have a method to commit suicide ready, in case your 'rescue mission' fails; I've already programmed Alphonse to do me."

That rather chilling note caused a ripple of unease among the group. Even Dan lost his smile a bit. "Why is that?"

"You didn't see what Salinger did to the inmates from the last escape attempt," she murmured as she finally managed to stand, albeit with support from the table.

"From then on, he only wanted me to be conscious when he could get his hands on me. I had to plan things for whenever I had a moment to get my hands on things, and, even after years of planning, I realized that it would take a miracle to be able to escape.

"I mean, the last time there was an escape attempt, every single person was captured and lobotomized…well, except for me. The same thing would have happened to me, but the chief of the escape party took the blame for it—he lost everything because of me.

"He purposely didn't kill them—had them all lobotomized without anesthetic, one by one, right down in that sick little theater on the bottom floor, for all the ones who didn't try to escape, in one of his twisted little shows. An example; a warning. The only reason I still have a brain is because I was too 'valuable' a 'specimen'….

"Even so, he intended me to be comatose whenever he wasn't testing me, and I would've been, if I hadn't reprogrammed the system…."

There was bitterness and fury in Claire's voice. She seemed to be pushing herself into greater anger, to fuel herself with rage alone. In fact, looking at her now, pale, wraith-like remains of a human being…it became clear that it was only hate and anger that were keeping her going; they had somehow driven her on while everyone else in this block lost their minds.

And seeing her like this, scarcely still looking human, Richard realized she couldn't be lying, at least not completely; her muscles were barely visible beneath her pale skin. She had to have done nothing except spent day after day, month after month, and year after year lying on that table. And, after seeing everything he had in this ward, he realized that the only times of full cognition she had were spent being subjected to more experiments.

Jessica enough was proof of that. Just looking at that woman and seeing how she had gone from a streetwise 'tough girl' to looking like a frightened animal, and all from just one day of "treatment", not to mention everything else he had heard since he had gotten here…there was no reason to doubt what Claire was saying.

Just another mark of corruption; another part of a system that treats people like disposable trash. Abe Salinger: a monster who has no right to call himself a human being, let alone a doctor. —Yet another cancerous tumor that people just let fester and grow worse and worse; leave him to think he can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, to anyone he wants…and that the world revolves around him and his madness….

Thinking all of this, Richard's hand clenched, the metal gauntlet grinding. It was audible enough to get the others to look to him.

"Requiem?" Dan asked.

"You were right—there is a change of plans," the young man answered. "We'll go and rescue your friend. And then, before we depart, I am going to make sure that Dr. Salinger never 'treats' another patient again."

Claire raised her head a bit at that, and glared furiously. "Listen, buddy: if anyone's going to kill Salinger, it's me. I've been planning this for ten years—it's the only thing that's kept me going!"

"Save it for when you can walk without a crutch, girl," Dan retorted, then turned to Richard with a grin. "Nutty as sticking around here to bust some heads is, now you're talking my language. This whole trip has just been one endless round of me getting mad, and I feel like venting it." He turned to Hector. "All right, another last-minute change. Hec, you get Jessica out to the ships, and get ready to break for it as soon as we come running. Trust me…" He grinned from ear to ear. "…you'll hear us coming."

"You got it, man." Hector nodded back, looking to Claire afterward. "Coming with us, girlie? You can ride on my back, if you like."

Claire formed an uneasy look. "I just met you. Besides, I have my own ride—Alphonse, down!"

At once, the Jaeger Cog crouched down into a canine lying position. Once there, Claire took a deep breath, then pushed off of the table and let herself fall on top of the machine, reaching out and grasping its sides as she did. Once lying on top of it, she grunted and focused, and pulled the rest of her body on top of it, moving into a riding position.

"Please do not do anything rash, Master Lune. While carrying you, my offensive capabilities are limited."

"Just 'Claire', Alphonse," the woman muttered, and sighed.

"Before we go, one last thing," Richard said, looking back to Claire. "—You heard what I said about the operating theater before. Will that be the place for the 'demonstration'?"

"No doubt about it," she answered. "It also serves as the Observation Room. Bastard thinks he's Mavlos reincarnated, when it comes to his work—demands to show it off for those who fund him." Her voice turned somber. "Been the 'main event' a few times myself. The fastest way there is down the elevator at the end of the hall."

"And how the hell are we supposed to use it with the building on security lockdown?" Troy grumbled.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Typical men—like a gang of gorillas, you just do everything with brute force. Fine—Alphonse, to the elevators first. I'll hack them for you; fastest way for me to escape too anyways…."

"You do that," Richard answered as he turned and began to head for the door. "I'll just take the shaft; we can't waste any more time."

With that, he immediately took off into a run and bolted back out the door, to the ring-shaped corridors of cells.

As Dan began to lead the way for the others, Claire blinked a few times at the way Requiem had went. She turned towards the gang, and lifted one hand just enough to point. "What did he mean by 'take the shaft'?"

"Probably means he's jumping down," Dan answered casually as he reached the door. "Coming or what?"

The woman still looked rather stunned, but Alphonse was already moving, carrying her along after the others whether she liked it or not. By the time she snapped out of it, they were already back in the hall and running down to the end. The elevator doors were clearly visible, even from there.

"Won't take long, will it?"

Claire shook her head and turned to Dan. "Huh?"

"Hacking the doors."

"What? No—no problem," she answered. "—Been practicing it for two years now, mentally."

"So what's this madman's deal, anyways?" the gang leader asked. "Just a nutcase, or does he actually produce anything?"

"His methods are real enough…at least, they were before he got too obsessed with the sadistic parts. Even now his research still has some value, or he wouldn't get funding." Her head lowered. "I don't know his full story, and I don't care, just so long as I show him, and his little pal, Kath Fraction, what it feels like to have your life ruined—and I will, if it takes me the rest of my life."

Dan raised an eyebrow, and was about to ask something, before he sighed and said, "Well, that sounds like a fun topic, but now's not the time. Let's not let Requiem get all the fun, eh, boys? Huh?"

Everyone heard slashing noises, and Dan glanced towards them, to see that Richard had already cut the elevator door open, and was wall-jumping his way down the shaft. Hearing his masked ally jump down from wall to wall caused him to chuckle and whisper, "Damn, he's riled-up—and he doesn't even know anyone here! Maybe he was being legit about what he says he stands for, after all…maybe."

As Dan went to see if Claire would do what she said she would, Richard focused on reaching the bottom level as quickly as he could. As the armored man saw the elevator coming right for him, he observed that the box's ceiling and walls were clear —most likely so that potential escapees couldn't hide, and maybe to make possible hostage situations easier to handle— and therefore also saw that it was empty.

As it moved closer, Richard just thrust Auro Solais forward and dived at the glass, bursting right through it. The son of Andross Zilos then stabbed the wall to slow his descent, and, as he braced to land, he thought of all he had seen in the last hour.

How could anyone let such a sick freak go on being a doctor? This is supposed to be a place to help extremely sick people, yet innocent people are being treated worse than enemy combatants in wartime! He must be good at covering his tracks….

Father, where you really not aware of what was going on in this Asylum?

Whatever the truth of the situation is, though, when I'm done here, the truth about this nest of sickos will be ripped wide open, so that these corrupt scum will at last be forced to answer for all this!

His resolve steeled, Richard landed in the darkness of the lowest level of the Intensive Ward ready to ensure that Zach did not become the newest victim of Rycroft Asylum's treatment plan.