Rhia watches the creatures silently. As usual shes calm and seemingly uncaring, as if nothing in all the world could bother her.

Nic wasstill huddoign in his cell. Unfortunatley uncomfortable sicne Lio was cowering behind him for being formerly an amazing video maker and coder, Lio was quite a coward when it wasnt somethign to dow with machines and coding.

Aaron's breath became heavier. It sounded angry. She shivered, trying her best to calm down.

The figure stalked like a bird, taking huge, sweeping steps forward, its legs lost in the tails of its leather coat. The body seemed to twitch and shake as it progressed, the head jerking upward every five or six steps, the gloved hands clawing at its own face as if trying to remove the ancient gas mask that hung there. There was something wrong with the way it moved its limbs, but the heavy crimson light stopped her from working out what it was.

Victoria was so busy studying the monster that she didn't notice which cell it had stopped at until she saw movement from inside. There was a flurry of motion, then a plump figure flew forward and crashed against the bars. The boy that had been bullied by the Skulls and mocked because of his birthmark collapsed in front of the gas mask, curling up in the corner of the cell and burrowing his head in his arms.

The gas mask arched its back and screamed, causing the poor kid to curl even more tightly into himself, then it placed a hand into its trench coat. When it pulled it free again, it was smothered in what looked like tar, great gobs of it dripping to the metal platform. The freak wiped its filthy hand across the cell door twice, marking out an X on the bars, then it screamed again and froze, its dry wheeze the only sign it was still alive.

The prison went black for the third time and Vicky squinted into the darkness in vain. From somewhere above her came another scream, another terrified protest. Then a fizz of static as the red lights struggled on again. Her view of the kid's cell was blocked, and it took her an instant to work out why. When she did, her heart actually skipped a beat as the horror sank in.

Right in front of her, in all its sick glory, was a gas mask. Vic only looked at it for an instant before staggering backward, but the image was seared onto her brain for a lifetime. The monster was standing directly outside the cell, staring at her with eyes so deeply embedded in its shriveled face that they looked like black marbles. The contraption that covered its mouth and nose was colored with rust and verdigris, and this close she could see that the ancient metal was stitched permanently into the skin.

It inhaled noisily, then raised its arms, the movement parting the filthy, bloodstained trench coat and revealing a leather bandolier slung diagonally across its chest. The strap held six or seven huge syringes that looked like they hadn't been cleaned since the Second World War. She realized what it was about its limbs that were so unsettling. They were moving too fast, shaking by its sides as if they were being played in fast forward. Its head suddenly twitched with the same terrifying speed, shaking uncontrollably for a second before snapping back into place.

Vic hit the bunks and slid to the ground, feeling as if somebody had stripped the bones from her legs. As she met the stone the lights flicked out, the sparks silhouetting the monster outside the cell as it reached into its pocket. She heard somebody else crying out "no, no, no" at the top of their voice, but it was another few seconds before she accepted it was her.

The lights snapped back on, but they didn't hold. For a few seconds, they strobed on and off--red, black, red, black--while the wheezer stood outside the cell. The flashing lights made Vicky's head feel like it was going to explode, and she was forced to screw her eyes shut, burying her face into the crook of her arm as if that would protect her.

Rhia feels a strong urge to come over and try to comfort Vic. She's perfectly capable of doing so. But she knows that would be a bad idea.

Kudos to Rhia for at least thinking about Vic. Most of the prisoners only cared about themselves at this point

Instead, much like before she seems to dissipate as she moves into the shadows, as if she's completely vanished. She has a gut feeling that she'll need to, and her intuition is rarely wrong.

Almon's eyebrows shot up. Well this new. He thought to himself. He remembered Vic from their conversation before, that poor girl. First that demented kitsune messing with her and now whatever the heck that creature was.

Astra was in the shadows glad she was good at not being noticed. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't look away.

Nic was having very vivid flashbacks at the moment. Mostly of dead family members and seeing their bodies.

Did u mention he hates blood? Yeah. Seeing a bloody goon from any distance? Ohhhhh dear.

Lio had buried his face into Nics pillow bynnow.

Cole was heavily breathing and trying o stay calm. This had to be a joke, this wasnt real...

Then, with a hum, the power reasserted itself. She looked up, peeking out from her arm, expecting to see the nightmare still standing outside her cell. But it was gone. She scrabbled to her feet and flung herself at the bunks.

She hadn't taken a breath for what seemed like hours; she sucked in lungfuls of air, trying not to begin to hyperventilate.

There was another scream from above, and this time all of the gas masks echoed it. Seconds later the siren blasted out again and Victoria saw more shapes emerge from the vault door below. There were seven blacksuits in total, two of whom held a mutant dog on a leash, struggling to control the animal as it thrashed against its restraints.

Darkness again, and howling. The sound of footsteps against stone, then metal. A fresh round of screams from the gas masks and the same endless cry of 'no' from the cell below her.

When the lights came back on Vicky moved to the bars and saw that the guards had split up, and were making their way to the marked cells. She crouched down as low as she could get and followed the blacksuit heading toward the poor kid. (Apparently, that's what I named him.) When the blacksuit reached the door he called out for it to be opened. He was almost twice as tall as the shriveled figure beside him, but he eyed the wheezer warily as he waited for the door to slide open, never getting too close.

The kid was still curled up tight inside the cell, but Vicky had never seen anybody look more exposed. The blacksuit reached in and grabbed the boy by his elbow, dragging him onto the platform as if he weighed no more than a sack of feathers. As soon as he was out under the red light the boy uncurled himself, flailing against the guard's iron grip. But the giant simply grabbed him by both wrists in a single mammoth hand and hoisted him into the air.

The gas mask screamed as if in delight. Then it snatched one of the syringes from its belt and thrust it at the kid like a knife. Right then Vic was grateful that the lights failed. But against the black canvas of darkness her imagination projected its own horrific conclusion to the story--the needle plunging into the poor kid's arm or neck, filling him full of rot and decay, of dirty chemicals, contaminated blood.

The prison was illuminated once more--just long enough for her to see the blacksuit dragging the kid's limp body toward the stairs, the gas mask right behind watching its prey like a hyena eyeing a corpse, the cell door sliding shut. On the yard below, the other blacksuits were slowly progressing toward the vault door--a sick procession of giants, freaks, and lost boys being dragged to a fate Victoria couldn't even begin to imagine.

Then the prison went dark again, although, from the pounding in her chest, the ringing in her ears, and the rush of air as Vic collapsed to the floor she knew that this time it had nothing to do with the lights.