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Blackstone Prison is what allows the citizens of Freedom City to sleep at night. They know that all of the super villains Freedom City seems to attract are safely locked up inside the formidable walls of Blackstone. That security blanket was shattered as a large scale break out attempt larger than any since the Terminus Invasion began mere moments ago. The Blackguards were fighting valiantly, but it was only a matter of time before they were overrun. Prisoners were already making it to the surface, there only saving grace was that the least powerful of the villains were kept closest to the surface. The longer the prisoners went uncontained, the more likely the guards were to be overrun by Freedom's most wanted.

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*Krak!*

Breakdown appeared suddenly out of nowhere on top of one of the outside walls of Blackstone prison. Breakdown to Young Freedom! He transmitted over the radio waves to the receivers the rest of the team carried. I'm gonna see what I can do over at Blackstone. The rest of you see what can be done elsewhere.

Breakdown chimed in with his every appropriate song lyrics.

"18 and life You got it

18 and life you know

Your crime is time and it's

18 and life to go "

"Let's get these scumbags back where they belong!"

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Arrowhawk's bike screeched across the city, jumping off ramps, roaring around corners and plowing through crowds. I can't believe this. Atlas? Gone rogue? He clutched the folder he'd picked up under his arm. I need to find 10 seconds to re-read this... Christ, I don't have 10 seconds!

Spinning in a cloud of smoke to a halt outside Blackstone, he slid the folder into his bike as he pulled an assortment of arrows into his quiver. Put down the riot, formulate a plan, stop Atlas. Sometimes it gets interesting. His eyes narrowed as he ran towards the gates.

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A second matte black motorcycle screech up to stop neatly next to Arrowhawk's. Midnight leapt from his bike, streams of inky mist pouring from his sleeves and giving him a lazy vapour trail as he pulled the escrima sticks from his boots and launched into a sprint in one smooth movement. Behind the narrowed red lenses and featureless black mask, Trevor Hunter willed his breathing to steady. These criminals were about to learn that, with a new Midnight active in Freedom, they'd be better off staying in Blackstone.

The lanky teen's long strides brought him alongside the black clad archer as they raced towards the gates. "Good look," his gravelly voice noted mildly through the filter in his mask.

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John Fraser heard a familiar voice echo inside his head as a familiar face, or rather, a familiar lack of a face, appeared momentarily in front of him. He knew from experience that the sight and the sound were for him and him alone.

Arrowhawk, this is The Scarab. I see you are handling the situation at Blackstone. Feel free to use the beacon I gave you if you and your team require the infirmary or the holding cells. And if you require my assistance, feel free to make use of the teleporters. I will be at the Raymond plant, attempting to restore power to the city.

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Blackstone Federal Penitentiary had stood on an small, isolated island a mile and a half beyond Freedom City's Great Bay for 46 years. Before being refitted as a super-prison, it was a military weapons depot and brig affiliated with Lonely Point during the Second World War. In all those years, several inmates had died, and when there was no one to claim the body, the dead prisoner would be interred in a small plot on the island, just inside the outermost walled-in area of the prison.

At the plot, where the prison walls met, the shadows grew a bit darker, a bit colder. Death in tattered (chewed?!) biker's leathers appeared from this mini-void.

How the heck'd this all happen? Atlas is the last of the Midnighter's I'd expect to do somethin' like this!

The figure took a moment to get his bearings and survey the scene. And where the heck is everyone else? I saw Hellion run into the hospital, but Avenger? Phantom? Eh, knowin' Phantom, this ain't her field, an' she's prob'ly busy fightin' off somethin' from beyond space an' time to boot.

Drawing his weapon -- a well-worn shovel -- the figure ran towards the closest mob.

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The lanky teen's long strides brought him alongside the black clad archer as they raced towards the gates. "Good look," his gravelly voice noted mildly through the filter in his mask.

"Thanks," said Arrowhawk, not glancing to the side. "I studied your predecessor's methods when I first started out." He reached into his quiver and pulled out his bow. "I figure we need to prioritise the high-security wing. Much as it pains me, we might not stop them all, and I'd rather round up the minor-league creeps."

Then Scarab was in his mind again. Elena, you know I don't like the whole mind-speak thing. Thanks for the offer, but I hope most of the cells here are intact enough for use.

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Deciding to lend her services at the prison after everyone else at the train yard scattered to deal with the other problems, Sarah began warping across the city.

As Midnight and Arrowhawk ran towards the entrance, the air ahead of them suddenly twisted and a blonde woman in a still wet black suit. holding a sword. and smelling of sea water appeared facing the gates. Sarah gave the area quick look around as the two heroes caught up.

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Dark Star was zipping all over the city as fast as he could, dealing with any problem he came across. When he heard the prison troubles, he made a quick detour and came to a hold, hovering over the area. He searched around, noting who was there. "Please desist and return to your cells. We do not wish to damage anyone," he said, doubting it would work. Unfortunately, this looked rather messy despite the plethora of heroes present. He sighed. He really hated when things dissolved into mindless violence.

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"Agreed," Midnight intoned as they ran, voice coldly devoid of inflection. Trevor didn't intend to let any of the convicts escape, but was wary of overconfidence. The mist poured from his more quickly, growing denser, so that the edge of the rolling cloud reached the swordswoman's position before the sprinting, shadowy pair. Midnight's gravelly voice sounded from within, a whisper carried over impossible distance. "But who said I was a successor?"

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"Slipstream, be advised that prisoners are trying to break out of Blackstone at this time," the mission control operator at the other end of the connection said as Slipstream streaked towards the infamous prison. "Other heroes are converging to contain the riots. Your orders are to lend assistance, over."

"This is Slipstream, I copy. ETA to Blackstone...two seconds ago. Out." It did not take very long for Slipstream to arrive, and as he oversaw the situation, he groaned. "Yikes. These guys're going for broke, aren't they?" As he approached from the skies, he noticed a familiar looking black figure, and willed his jetpack to slow down, timing it just so to hover next to Black Star. "Nice to see a familiar face here!" he hailed as he drew his blaster pistol and surveyed the scene up closer. "Big mess, huh?"

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Alex arrived in her usual fashion, plummeting out of the sky from where she had teleported in. The dark angel slammed out her wings and went into a stable hover near Dark Star and the jetpack sporting hero. "I doubt that is going to cut it. Probably all who'd listen are going to be staying put on the inside." Casting a quick look over the heroes on the scene she asks. "Is there any kind of plan beyond 'trounce the ones who won't cooperate'?"

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Dark Star nodded, watching the scene unfold without moving. "Assist the guards first, make sure they are not overwhelmed. Slipstream, circle the compound and walls to keep them hemmed in. I'll handle the large groups. Angel, if you could support Midnight and Arrowhawk on the ground, that would be greatly appreciated. Though Arrowhawk is in overall tactical command here I think," he said. He might not have always seen eye to eye with the archer but Dark Star knew the veteran hero had a far greater grasp of tactics than he did. "Make the call Arrowhawk."

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Arrowhawk nodded. "Sounds about right. Keep doors and windows covered, prevent anyone escaping. Dark Star's idea is sound." He took a deep breath in, then exhaled. "And prioritise targets. For example, stop Dr Simian before the Beekeeper. Dangerous villains need to stay locked up, even if it means we lose a couple of losers."

"Keep near another at all times. You go solo, someone could slip past. Pairs or trios minimise that risk. And if you can scare large groups into falling back, through intimidation or displaying your powers, anything that saves you wasting time and effort fighting a mob, do it. We just need containment, not necessarily incapacitation. If you've got smokebombs or," he nodded at Midnight, "Some form of obscurant, use it. Disorientation will slow escapees down."

"Any questions?"

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"Yea, actually." Breakdown came sliding down the side of the wall of the prison's courtyard. He planted his feet, and back-flipped off the wall to land next to Dark Star and Arrowhawk. "You're forgetting someone. What should I do?"

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"Stop hiding on top of walls would help for a start," said Arrowhawk, not bothering to hide his exasperation. "Ok, Dark Star, man with jetpack I've not met, pair up in the sky. Mongrel Angel, new kid, you pair up as Ground Team Two."

Arrowhawk glanced in the direction of the new Midnight. Eh, he'll do. "Midnight, you're with me. We'll take the left, Team Two, take the right, air team... take the air?"

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"Stop hiding on top of walls would help for a start," said Arrowhawk, not bothering to hide his exasperation.

"Yea, sorry about that. I couldn't teleport in any closer without risking ending up inside the wall."

"Ground team two it is." Breakdown replied, beginning to make his way towards the gates of the prison, hoping the situation wasn't completely out of control.

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Blackstone is basically being torn to pieces. The prisoners have made it into one of the main courtyards and are advancing on one of the main guard barracks. The guards are holed up inside pretty tight, but more and more big names are making their appearance. They might be able to hold their own for a wave or two, but much longer than that and it'll be a slaughter. Between the collective masses of the inmates, several big names are making their presence known, if without their trademark costumes and gear. Orion for instance, deftly disarms an injured guard of his firearm, before finishing him and another guard off without breaking stride. The White Knight is roaring about his holy crusade while flinging fire in every direction, hurting just as many prisoners as he is guards. Rant and Rave are doing their thing trying to punch a hole through on of the exterior walls, so the rest of the prisoners can surge into the next area. What appears to be a martial artist, a wolfman and every able bodied prisoner with a blunt instrument are just beating the crap out of anything that looks expensive and/or bleeds.

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Arrowhawk burst into the courtyard, cape billowing and red eyes blazing beneath his hood. He nocked his bow as his eyes tracked the courtyard. "Ok, people, you know the plan, now do it! Midnight, can you think of a way to hem them in? I'll take out gun-bunny."

With that he levelled an arrow at Orion, raising his voice to get his attention. "Hey, Orion! Ready to get locked up again?" he called to the assassin, waiting just long enough for him start turning before letting the blunthead fly.

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Though Arrowhawk's aim was impeccable as ever, the chaos of the courtyard forced him to divert his aim just a hair. That hair was all that was needed for a vetran fighter like Orion the Hunter to evade the incoming attack. "I'm not the one winding up in a cage today little birdy." taunted Orion as he dodged the tonfa strikes of the nearby guards.

Elsewhere, a figure darted out of the crowd, running along the shoulders of the other innates before landing before Sarah Prescott. "An interesting weapon you carry there. I'd love to see the blade sing in battle. Come!" shouted the inmate before rushing Sarah. He lashed out with a furious back kick, meant to break her guard and open her up for severe punishment.

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"You guys hold things tight here, I'm gonna see if I can't convince Jack and Meg White over there to take a time out." And with that, Breakdown zipped off into the air. He floated toward Rant and Rave, and hovered before them in mid-air. Thrusting his hands forward, Breakdown pushed a trilling Jazz flute solo in Rant's direction. "Take a chill pill!"

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"Yo, yo, yo, sis! Check it!' says Rant as he points out Breakdown to his sister Rave. "Dude's totally up in my grill with that wicky-wack slang yo. He don't know what he's saying. He thinks he knows, but he don't know. He thinks he can be the guy, but he can't be the guy, he's just a kid. He's-"

"Oh will you just shut up and blast him already?!" cuts off the exasperated Rave. "Spoil sport."

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As accurate as the Killer's kick was, his only reward was a soft grunt as Sarah faded away from the blow, only to return with a powerful overhand blow to his back. Shifting again, she reappeared on top of the wall and gave a jaunty wave at Kung Fu Killer.

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Slipstream punched the engines and flew over the area where the mass number of anonymous inmates were threatening to overwhelm the security personnel present. "Back off!" he yelled as he opened fire on the inmates. "Get back to your cells before something hits you!" As he fired, he hoped none of the inmates had anything dangerous to throw back at him.

Maybe he should have thought of that beforehand...

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The Killer appeared to be as slippery as Sarah was and nimbly side stepped her counter attack. "Intruiging style you have there. You might be able to match my skill in another 10 years or so." taunted the Killer.

Elsewhere, Slipstream's blaster created the sweet sound of tossing inmates bodily around the courtyard. His victory was short lived however as it attracted the ire of some of the more powerful inmates. The wolf creature leaped high into the air snarling in rage as it took a swipe at the fly boy with his viscous claws.

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