Still don't exactly know where this is going but I have a slight idea. Read on and find out! Not my characters they all belong to DC comics.
Grayson peered around him, at the subjects of Darkseid. They glared back. He scurried backwards on her hands and feet. They advanced. He jumped backwards onto his hands and flipped over onto his feet. Run. That was his only option now. He ran. Darting out of the hole in the wall, Grayson sprinted down the corridor. Not the way he had came.
Weaving through the maze of corridors, his only goal to escape, alive. The monstrous humanoids pursuing him, Grayson got hopelessly lost. All the corridors looked the same. The same hewn rock crafted into a crude tunnel-like structure. The apocalyptians also all looked alike and all alarmingly close. So close he could feel their hot, ragged breath condensing on the walls around him, making them ice-like. The floor was slippery, so slippery. He skidded. Fell. His head hit the base of the left-hand side wall. Darkness
He awoke to a growling, gravelly voice. Where was he? He tried to get up, but he soon realized that his arms were pinioned to sides with chains. He groaned. He was stuck, on Apocalypse. Crap. Wincing he realized where he was and why he was there. He was in one of the preparation dungeons, in preparation for The Games. They had taken him to participate in The Games, perhaps as revenge on Batman for freeing Superman on their first encounter with Darkseid. The Games of Darkseid were when the prisoners of Darkseid fought each other until one remained victor, the only one left alive. The prisoners were gathered from across the multi-verse. Thangarians. Gordanians. Alternate-universe kryptonians. Furies. Hydras. Basilisks. He was screwed.
First things first, he had to get out of there. His only hope to live, was to escape. He didn't stand a chance in The Games, he was only human after all. He shifted around until he could feel a join in the thick links. Using a miniature blow-torch, from his gauntlet, he cut through the links of metal encircling his torso.
He lept to his feet as the chain clinked to the floor and staggered towards the door, the blood flowing freely back into his arms and legs once again, where the blood supply had been cut off by the chains. They hadn't even bothered to disarm him, they knew he didn't stand a chance. Falling to his knees, on the rock-hewn floor, Grayson reached for the handle. No handle. Of course not, he was a prisoner, there wasn't going to be a handle. Scrambling to his feet he searched his gauntlets for plastique. Finding a sizeable lump, he divided it into two lumps and plastered it over the two large hinges. Stepping back he produced a bird-a-rang and flung it at the metal door.
"Fump!" Nothing. The plastique had had absolutely no effect. Damm Darkseid and his Apocalyptic metal alloys. Grayson flung his body at the door in pure fury. He stopped. He had heard something. Someone. He flattened himself against the wall as the hatch covering the bars across the top of the cell door clunked back against the outside wall. Light streamed into the dark cave and the apocalyptic humanoid peered through the mesh and scanned the small cell for its inmate. Finding no-one the guard grunted with displeasure and drew back the bolts on the outside of the door. Nosing his way into the cell, gun-muzzle first, the hulking humanoid creature investigated the cell further as the lithe teen figure slunk out of the door behind him.