Escape from the Media...

The man woke up to the sound of death. It was a daily sound. Everyday, someone would be executed, and everyday they would broadcast the sound across the prison. Or, as they called it, ‘research facility.’

He climbed from the concrete floor that he’d been sleeping on since 1999, and smiled. Today was the day. October the 31st, 2012, the day he would escape. The Centaur in the next cell had managed to sneak some Gangurf Mind Imagers from the mans motor bike, before they’d sent it to the scrap yard, so he’d used them to burn an image onto the wall. As he took his coat from the ground and pulled it around his shoulders, he looked at the picture of a woman on the wall. She was beautiful, as she had been for the past twenty years. Brushing his birds nest hair away, he placed his hand on the bars and knocked them three times. 

A metallic ring echoed through the base of the Media, the UNs attempt at a policing force for magic, and the ferret in the air conditioning heard it’s call. The ferret snuck into the mans cell and up to the mans leg, with a vial tied to it’s back. The man took the vial and placed it in his pocket, hiding the ferret as a guard walked past. A few minutes later, a guard stopped. He was the guard general. The guard general turned to the man.

“Good morning Mr Frost.” The guard said.

“Captain.” Frost reminded him, bored of saying it every day.

“I couldn’t care less, Mr Frost. Now, are you going to show us a trick today?”

The Captain raised an eye brow, as if to ask how stupid the man was.

The guard general didn't seemed to notice, though, as he opened the Aridlium cell door and hauled the Captain out by the crimson tie. The Captain hit the floor, and that was a mistake. 

His knuckles collided with the guard generals stomach and then the Captain swung his arm into a left hook that broke the guards nose. The Captain pulled the extendable baton from the guard generals belt and used it to beat him unconscious. 

Having dropped the extendable baton, the Captain reached down and took the semi-automatic machine gun from the guards belt. The Captain pulled back the slide barrel on top of the gun and let the trigger loose as other guards closed in. Metal bullets sprayed through the halls of the Media’s base, taking down the incoming guards. The Captain started running at this point, moving quicker and quicker towards the stairwell. The Centaur in the next cell opened his mouth to scream at the Captain. 

“Free me, Frost!” The Centaur cried. 

The Captain turned, firing his gun and taking out several more guards. “I’ll come back for you.” He promised.

The Captain hit the blue door that led into the stairwell, having grabbed his sword and Desert Eagle gun from the safe in the wall, and he began running down the stairs. That promise had been a mistake. Because he never broke a promise. 

As he smashed the vial the ferret had brought him, he should have been thinking of the beautiful woman on the wall of his cell and finally seeing her face in the flesh for the first time in thirteen years. 

But instead he was thinking of how he would take down the Media, bit by bit.  

As he stepped through the flaring portal, he wasn't thinking of Mimnadale and Alcanvein, where she lived, but instead, he was thinking of Mortlock. And most of all, he was thinking of revenge.