Prologue: "Too Easy"
It really had been too easy.
These were the words running through Mod's head as he sprinted down a dank alleyway in Jump City. And to be fair to the crotchety old villain, it was.
Being deemed to be not as dangerous as Jump City's numerous other supervillains would be humiliating for most people who took on the Titans. But for Mod, it was a blessing in disguise. He was locked up in the Jump City Penitentiary; the one reserved for the run of the mill criminals and ne'er do wells. It was thanks to being imprisoned there that Mod was able to escape so easily. He wasn't much of a brawler, but he was a thinker and a trickster by nature. The guards at Jump City Penitentiary certainly weren't the brightest bulbs in the box, too; as evidenced by granting Mod a poster of the Royal Family to put on his cell wall, and an ornate silver tea set to help while away the hours spent in incarceration: All for his "good behaviour", naturally.
From there, Mod's actions were simple. Day by day, using the very sturdy cutlery, he chipped quietly away at the spot behind the poster with his cutlery. Thankfully his cell opened out directly over the river that ran by the prison, allowing for a simple splash-down in the river and a short swim to safety. And so, after months of picking away at the worn concrete, he escaped under the cover of a textbook prison riot; incited by a convincing a "good friend" of his into knocking out a guard or two.
"Almost like something out of the films!" He cackled mentally, his old legs carrying him as quickly as they could.
After splashing down in the river, he was overcome with adrenaline. Suddenly, his age no longer mattered; his frailty demolished by the pure instinct of survival inherent in all human beings. Not wishing to risk drowning in the river, or being spotted by the guards, he swam as quickly as possible to a small dock downstream, and, after drying himself off as best he could, ran towards the industrial district, his footsteps echoing across the empty streets.
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, as rain pounded down upon the now-deserted area of town. Giving a sigh of relief, Mod had finally come across a dilapidated, worn out warehouse. Looking around him, to ensure no-one had followed him, he carefully peeled the corner of a tattered poster away to reveal a hidden keypad underneath. After quickly tapping in his access code, a rusty old door next to the poster, which seemed locked tight, opened with a metallic "click", allowing Mod to slink away into the depths of his hideout, out of the pouring rain.
A fresh change of clothes and a nice cup of tea later, Mod had booked his plane tickets out of Jump City to Paris. After all, it wouldn't do well to stick around in town after breaking out. Taking a final sip from his chipped cup, he grabbed his suitcase and his trademark cane. He paused at the entrance to his hideout, looking down into the murky depths. He tapped in the lockdown code and turned away, but not before bidding his hideout farewell.
"I'm sorry me old chap. But London's calling."
And with that, he set off into the night, braving the rain outside.