Escapee

It quickly became apparent that it wasn't exactly going to be much of a stealth mission for Regan to make his escape. As if it hadn't made enough noise as he broke the chains binding him from the walls, even after attempting to wrap them around his limbs to keep them from dragging along the ground, they continued to shift on his body, jangling and clinking together and making quite the ruckus. Either way they dragged on his limbs, making them heavy and awkward, and making his footsteps into loud thuds that resounded through the hallways, constantly calling the attention of the guards.

The guards came in waves as he drew further and further away from his cell, and as they arrived he would have to uncoil the chains from around his wrists so that he could use the heavy steel as whips to fight them off with. It was only thanks to his quick reflexes and trained hearing that he stood a chance against them. His massive strength would mean nothing to him if he couldn't catch the guards unaware, seeing as they came running at him equipped with varying types of guns. His chains whipped around the corners to clothesline the guards, crushing their heads and throats to incapacitate them. He had crushed the remaining cement at the end of his chains early on - he required a bit more precision now, but at least the chains weren't quite as heavy.

He passed by a variety of other prisoners as well, who watched him pass them by in silence. He knew what they were thinking. "Why should he be allowed to leave while I remain? He should free me, or I should call the guards." But most said nothing. They could see the chains attached to him. Some watched him destroy the oncoming guards. There was no question that he was not one to be messed with, and that his mind was already made up. If he was going to free any of the others, he would do it of his own volition.

It took Regan hours to make it to the exit of the prison facility. He hadn't been able to tell which of the keys and cards the guards carried on them were the ones for the right door, and many of them had been crushed and distorted by his blows anyway, because of the way they wrapped around people or flailed wildly on contact. Instead he smashed the electronic lock in the chain, which forced the door open as a safety precaution. It had been many years since he had seen the outside. And it was too late for anyone to stop him.