A/N: Ask and you shall receive. Shout out to 10pandasrule10 for requesting a chapter update! As always, Rate and Review!


It was a lot more comfortable in Snyder's new cell. They had finally granted him his request for a cell in the minimally supervised section of the prison, rather than the the usual one in section B-13. His cellmate was a short stocky man by the name of Brewster.

It was too easy to knock out Brewster and leave him in the top bunk where Snyder slept and just waited. A new security guard was making the usual four o'clock rounds by checking the cells for any suspicious activity in bloc C-10. He walked down the hallway with his nightstick in hand, rattling it against the cell doors as he walked by.

"What?" the guard questioned the cell that Snyder had been transferred to earlier that morning. There was no one in the lower bunk where his cellmate slept. The guard quickly whipped out his ring of keys to investigate further. Turning the correct key in the lock, he ripped open the steel door and ran over to the rumpled covered body he saw in the top bunk. Stopping at the figure under the sheets, he noticed the odd shape of the form. There was definitely something wrong here. He pulled the sheets back and gasped.

"What the heck?!" He exclaimed. It wasn't Snyder in his bunk. This was his cellmate!

Brewster smacked his lips and stretched, he was just waking up. "Did I fart too much, Snyd?"

Shit. The guard swiveled around to run out and report the escape, but was greeted by Snyder, who was standing in the doorway.

"Ha ha ha ha…perhaps you should keep your head up more often." Snyder laughed. He assumed a basic martial arts stance by reaching his left hand palm forward and right hand by his side with all his fingers close together, pointed as straight as a board. With a quick explosion of power, he snapped his right arm forward and jammed his hand into the guard's one weak spot, his throat. The guard gargled and held his now closed esophagus. One more quick punch from Snyder knocked him out for good, and he took the next five minutes to switch out their uniforms. Thankfully it got very dusty in Pasadena Correctional, so a lot of the guards wore bandanas to cover up their mouth and nose from suffering.

"Am I getting a new roommate?" Brewster asked.

Snyder took the billy club from his new security guard's belt and hit former cellmate as hard as he could across the forehead. Brewster began snoring again, and he put the final touches by pulling up the blanket around the guard he shoved into the lower bunk. Slamming the door to the cell behind him, he ran out to the hallway and scanned the cell numbers. Keeping a fast pace, Snyder ignored the yells of profanity and spit that was flung at him from the other inmates, obviously thinking that he was the real guard. He made a swift left turn and headed down the new hallway until finally he stopped. In section A-9 a gray haired man stood in the middle of his cell. Snyder had found Jack Harding as planned.

Jack turned around and looked at the fake prison guard."You didn't happen to bring that girly magazine I requested, didja, ya idiot," He said.

Snyder responded by pulling up the ring of keys from his side and opening the large grated steel door to his cell. Jack was obviously unaware of who the guard really was.

"Well, whatdyawant, ya idiot?"

Snyder smacked Jack right across the jaw with his fist, causing him to pass out. The man went limp, and Snyder caught him in his arms, slowly dragging him out of the cell and into the hallway. Taking out the ring of keys, he opened a custodial closet that was near the cell. Snyder scanned the contents of the small room until he finally found what he was looking for.

"Perfect," Snyder said to himself. He pulled out a steel wheelchair and un-collapsed it. He dragged the lifeless man to the chair and sat him in. Wheeling him down the hallway at a non-conspicuous pace, he was stopped at the security checkpoint, which was manned by two mean looking guards.

"Halt!" one guard yelled to Snyder still in disguise. "Where's he headed?" The guard tipped his rifle barrel slightly at the unconscious Jack in the emergency wheelchair.

"ICU. This man drank too much of his own toilet wine, and passed out. Got a nasty gash from hitting the steel side of his bed."

"Go on through," The guard said, while stepping aside.

Snyder casually wheeled Jack through the security checkpoint, past the metal detectors. While coming on the other side, the alarm went off. Snyder froze in place, attempting not to panic.

"Dang machine always goes off for our badges. Go on through, I'll turn it off." The other security guard offered.

"You're a peach," Snyder thanked. Continuing to the side entrance to the prison, he passed one more guard. It was going to be this easy, he thought. Jack stirred in his seat a little as they made a wide pass from the other guard. The passing officer noticed the noise, and became interested.

"Yo, where are you taking him?"

Snyder stopped in his tracks. "ICU," He explained.

"No, no, no. You're going in the opposite direction completely! ICU is in the central hall!"

Snyder started wheeling Jack toward the exit anyway, but the guard took the offensive.

"Hands above your head!" The guard had drawn his weapon, and was now pointing it at Snyder, but Snyder was not stopping. His hands darted into his pants pocket, and pulled out two forks, sharpened and bent. Without even turning around, Snyder threw the makeshift shurikens at the guard. One made its mark by slicing right through the left hand holding the pistol pointed at Snyder. The other one went burrowing deep in the man's trachea. Snyder ran up and covered the man's mouth to prevent any noise alerting others.

"Shh…Sleep my little baby…" Snyder evilly cooed as the guard tried to grab his throat, fell against the wall, and slid to the floor. Looking around, Snyder found a large plastic trash bin on wheels. He wheeled it over to the body, dumped it in and covered it with the remaining garbage. The custodial services would have no idea that they were covering up his dirty work when they went to dump the trash later that day.

Snyder turned around while pushing the button to open up the automatic locked door to the side entrance. They had not yet heard of his escape. He raced on through the side gate with Jack still snoozing in the wheelchair he was pushing. He was now in a large parking lot filled with civilian cars visiting inmates, and several armored prison transport SUVs.

Snyder walked up to the closest all-black Pasadena Correctional Facility transportation SUV and pulled Jack out of the wheelchair, temporarily laying him on the pavement. With the strength of a man that trained every day for five years in a federal penitentiary, he hoisted the medical device above his head and smashed open the driver's side window. Unlocking the doors from within, Snyder pulled Jack up into the passenger side seat, who was just starting to wake. Snyder waltzed over to the driver's side again and took a moment to grab the wire harness from underneath the steering column. In a matter of moments, he had broken two wires apart and were twisting them together. The SUV roared to life, he slammed the door closed, and shoved the transmission into drive.

It was a wet and rainy day, so the SUV's tires squealed slightly more than usual on the pavement. Snyder began the two hour drive to the hideout: a large factory outside the city limits that Jack tucked away for safekeeping.