Who: Serving some Dr. Doom and --would you like Fries with that? Totally Open to responses as well! Where: The Raft, off New York's shores. When: Friday night, February 2th, 2013 What: There's a break out at the Raft, and prisoners are running amok. Rating: Pg-13ish
One of the most innovative and tightly secured prisons in the world. It was surrounded by water filled with venomous jellyfish. The bottom was impenetrable metals and energy grids. A force field encircled its sky. The power array was protected, isolated and redundant. Pulses of energy emanated throughout its walls, making magic and supernatural powers inert. Many of the prisoners had inhibitors implanted directly on their spines. Patrolling with weapons with sensitive software that recognized and unlocked for only one user, the guards were faceless men in high tech armor. All well-trained and well-compensated to look after their deadly wards.
The brilliant. The macabre. The genius. The sinister. Murderers and worse, caged and restless. The fight was gone from some, but remained in far too many of them. They had hope even in this sealed container--hope of revenge and mayhem.
Useless hope, for the most part. The guard changed, as it did every few months. It was a well-secured process, with identities being checked six-fold. They were checked for sicknesses, foreign objects embedded in their bodies, duress, etc. The entire process was efficiently overseen. Then it was back to routine. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the first two weeks.
And then a guard became sick.
Soon, it became apparent he was more than just a little muscle sore. He started coughing blood and was quarantined. The medical staff was baffled. They tried to send a transmission requesting medical assistance, and they realized they were in trouble when they received an automated reply back, one that repeated the response from the mainland they had received from their last check-in transmission.
There was always a vital element when it came to prison breaks. Timing. Timing was everything. Having patience, knowing all possible variables, and when to put plans into action. This one was tricky, because it took knowing the exact point at which the guards and prison doctors would start realizing their potential danger, when to switch the communication scramblers on, and when to start the negotiations.
His timing, as usual, was flawless. The guard who first became ill was rapidly worsening, his skin becoming sticky with sweat. When the blood started gathering at his orifices, he started screaming. The drugs the doctor administered did little to sate his thrashing. They were tying him to the bed when they received the transmission.
The head Warden nodded to receive the incoming transmission. A nervous guard pushed the button. “What we have here,” the transmission started without a word of greeting. “Is a hostage situation. The good news is that your are in control of negotiating for yourselves.”
The Warden was a stiff, analytical man of impressive military background. He narrowed his eyes, trying to place the voice. “Identify yourself.”
“In due time. Meanwhile, I feel it is imperative I enlighten you to your situation.”
The Warden was silent, waiting. The others in the command center waited nervously.
“By now, you will have realized that nothing has staved the pain of your fellow guard. I am sure the doctors are intelligent enough to figure out what has caused his ailment by now and realize the danger of the situation.”
The Warden had already received the report. Nanomachines. They were everywhere in the man’s body, slowly tearing him apart from the inside out. Since they had worked into areas of his brain, neural blockers only stemmed some of it. Worse... The nanomachines had infected a majority of those on the Raft. Only the most isolated of prisoners would have escaped the prerogative of the beastly little machines to infect and multiply. Death by them... was certain torture.
The discovery of their presence explained everything. Considering the time that had passed, it would only take one nanomachine, carefully placed in perhaps the man’s food before he came on board. It would have taken some time for them to start having an effect, but once their numbers started, they had exponential growth.
And by all estimates, many of the crew and prisoners were close to the dangerous upward curve in their nanomachine population.
“I am not wanting to commit mass murder. Or even one, which we can avoid if we act within the next few hours. You are aware I have compromised you communications.” Outside it was starting to rain, an unpleasant sleet. The water and ice pattered down on 13 hovering machines, their camouflage only slightly compromised by the bending water around their forms, their antennae continuing to remain outstretched and searching for wayward signals. “And I can copy your usual check-in. Clever, by the way, to stagger them in such a pattern. Really, though, it is not that hard of a mathematical formula to figure out.”
The Warden was angry, the man’s glare becoming stony and a muscle in his jaw twitching. Yet a single drop of sweat slid down his temple.
“... The clock is ticking. I have your salvation. You need but cooperate.”
The Warden’s voice was steely. “What do you want.”
“The exchange of many lives... for one.”
At first the Warden would not deal. He was a proud man, and knew what his job entailed. It wasn’t one without risks. But when four more guards and a prisoner needed to be rushed to the infirmary, he knew time was not on his side. Everyone would die. Angrily, but quietly, he gave the order for the shield to be powered down.
Now timing became most imperative. Because the ship could not pass unnoticed as it swept in through the rainy sky. The hovering devices appeared as well around the complex, the pretext of stealth no longer required to drain their power. It looked like a simple jet, but not of any country’s that the Warden could identify, looking smooth as a spear head and hovering without any seeming difficulty above the Raft.
The Warden was now on the deck, glaring up through the icy rain as six more guards brought the prisoner above. The prisoner was cooperating quietly, alert, even coolly curious. Now things would need to happen swiftly. The base of the hovering craft opened, and a rectangular construct of metal was swiftly lowered down. Inside curls of white mist wisped outward, revealing within the box a machine shaped like a shelved pyramid with a blinking red light on it.
“As agreed, Warden,” the voice came from the crate. “Remove the machine and seat the prisoner. Once I leave with him, you may utilize the device with a simple press of the button to dispose of your ailment.”
The Warden took a deep breath. Then looked up at the ship, judging its distance. He could do as instructed. Yes. And risk losing his prisoner. And risk this machine possibly not nullifying the nanomachines. In fact, it may very well be a bomb. Then they would all be dead anyhow. But he would have lost their prisoner.
It really left only one option to him. He dipped his chin down, then looked up to his fellows. “It has been an honor working with you, gentlemen.” Then he marched swiftly past the prisoner and pressed the button.
The EMP wave made a most disturbing SCHWOOM! sound as it shook through the facility. And all the lights went out.
~~~
The wave passed through the ship and the lights blinked off. “I wondered if he would do that.” The jet started to dip and slide to the side. A simple shove of a lever and a door popped off easily, flipping away into the sea as the nose started to dip downward, and the craft plummeted down toward the Raft.
The crash was a deafening shriek of metal as it smashed on the concrete and skid close to the edge over the dangerous rocky waters. Metal scraped on stone. Fuel gushed. Then ignited.
The Warden shield his eyes at the explosion. Guards started to rush about, trying to usher the prisoner back into the building. He was not going so peacefully, straining against their harsh grip. The Warden looked at the burning ship, and sighed deeply. That had been risky. However, the device did seem to be an EMP bomb as their attacker had informed. They were saved, for now, and their prisoner would soon be in quarters. He quickly turned his mind to the current, pressing matters, wheeling to face the group of guards. “We need to lock the prison down as much as possible until our check in is not received. Secure the facility. Tranquilize all prisoners that we can. Those areas that cannot be secured need to be evacuated by personnel to secure areas. Have...”
A screech of metal caused him to turn.
Impossible, the warden thought. The burning wreckage had started to move, a side of the jet being heft away from a figure walking through. Heavy metal boots hissed as they touched the puddles on the deck, the ragged edges of a green cloak waving in the flame, briefly afire before the monarch of Latveria stepped free of the burning chaos and steadily toward them.
Guards rushed to meet him. Doctor Doom had no patience for them. He swept his arm out, an arc of fire scattering the men. The few far enough back to still stand were counter-attacked with a precise ferocity. The Warden watched him come, the fighting over in a few seconds as Doom approached him.
“There was an error in your plan,” Victor von Doom stated, an irritation in his voice. “Once the EMP blast disabled the nanomachines, it disabled all other defenses.... Including the one that made the use of magic impossible on these grounds.”
The Warden stood his ground as fire started flicking up Doom’s arms, encompassing the gauntlets as Doom came within paces of him. He was a well-trained man, mind sharp and battle-ready. “It should also have disabled your armor.”
He was hardly able to block the weight of the metal fist as it struck forward, a stark difference of the biting cold and the heat near his face. A quick exchange of blows and a knee landed firmly in his solar plexus. The Warden doubled, the breath knocked from him and going blind. He lost consciousness before he started to fall.
Doctor Doom let him slide down to the icy deck, straightening and rolling his shoulders a little. THe flames flickered out. “I’m used to walking around with my armor powered down.”
The steel feet thumped steadily across the concrete toward the waiting prisoner. The cuffed man had his face trained up into the bitterly cold night sky. Even though he wore only cotton prison garb, the freezing cold caused him not the slightest shiver. When Doom was a few paces, he finally looked from the sky slowly, the icy gaze meeting the stern brown. Rain and ice slid down his blue skin.
Victor tipped his chin. “Greetings, Doctor.”
~~~
Inhaling deeply the aroma of ocean air, salty brine mingled with the strange scent of dark magic, the captive maintained his stony expression. What Victor Von Doom of Latveria was doing here, freeing him, he had no idea, but it would have been the height of rudeness not to express some level of gratitude. "My thanks, Doctor. You could not have chosen a better day to visit. I admit to being in the dark, however."
Victor Fries kicked over the unconscious body of the warden and fished through his pockets, until he found the device that would unlock his shackles. Unable to actually use it on himself, Fries opted to hold it casually and wait for a more fortuitous time. "It is not every day I find myself greeted by heads of state. To what do I owe this honor?"
~~~
Victor von Doom held his gauntlet out for the device, choosing to unlock the cuffs before replying. “The hope for a mutual arrangement that can benefit us both. However...” He held up two fingers meditatively. “This place is about to become... chaotic. I suggest we move to a different venue to discuss such plans.”
He started to quietly chant, and soon the portal formed. He gestured invitingly to Dr. Victor Fries.
~~~
The prisoner's eyes narrowed as he peered at the edges of the portal. He stepped forward, and left the Raft behind him.