Jinx awoke on the last day of her detainment, hopefully ever, feeling like a pile of bricks covered in sand. She rolled out of her bed with a loud, continuous groan that didn't stop until she'd hit the floor face-first, her blanket landing on top of her. Another continuous groan escaped from her mouth as she slug-crawled to the bathroom, not bothering to toss the blanket away. When Kitten looked as if she was about to make fun of Jinx's state, the pink-haired witch lifted the blanket off the top of her head, glared, and hissed at her. Kitten merely gave her a wary look and stepped over her on her way to the mirror. Jinx's new guard, a young woman who didn't seem to have any obvious weaknesses except perhaps not caring about her job, rolled her eyes.
When Jinx appeared at breakfast and immediately flopped her head down on the table, Gizmo glanced at her and said "You look like death, and not in a good way." Jinx flipped him off. Billy Numerous pushed a tray her way, repeatedly poking her in the head with it, until Jinx felt compelled to lift her head enough to glare at him. He took the opportunity to shove the tray under her face, preventing her from flopping down onto the table once more. She grudgingly grabbed a fork and stabbed it into her food, only responding to the conversations around her with grunts until all of the food has disappeared into her mouth.
After that, Jinx felt significantly more awake and ready to begin plotting. It was her last day in the prison, not that she would admit that to the people around the table with her, and she wanted to go out with a bang. "I've got a plan," Jinx said, leaning in towards the middle of the table. Her old team leaned in as well. Jinx smiled. You couldn't count on these people for literally anything else, but when you had a cunning plan? They were the best people in the world.
Luckily, Jinx's little performance that morning fed right into her story that she was violently ill with a massively high fever, and needed to be put in the infirmary wing immediately. Of course, since the prison staff were sympathetic-emphasis-on-the-pathetic people, they were a lot easier to fool than the staff of the Hive Academy, who wouldn't let you out of classes unless you were in immediate danger of dying violently enough to disrupt the entire school. In fact, the last time a student had died during class, if was seen as a training opportunity to find and hunt down the assassin that pulled it off. It turned out that it was another student, who was quickly promoted to the top of his class.
In any case, Jinx was soon lifted onto a stretcher and carted into a sterile, white room, where she was hooked up to several machines of questionable purpose. She found that she was not surprised when the nurse decided it was safe to leave her alone, although she was a bit disgusted at whoever had hired all of these incompetents. Within moments, all the machines were programmed to read that Jinx would die in fifteen minutes. She hopped back into the bed and made herself look as sick as possible, and waited for the flatline.
Easiest. Escape. Ever, Jinx thought to herself as she was carted into a hearse and driven off the prison property. They had even removed the tracking device that clearly wasn't hooked up to anything if it hadn't been used previously. Her thoughts became a little less excited as she was unceremoniously dumped into a shallow grave and began to have dirt dumped directly onto her, sans coffin. She sat up and glared at the gravedigger. "What are you doing?!" She demanded, brushing the soil off the front of her outfit. To her shock and slight disappointment, the gravedigger didn't even flinch.
"Buryin' yah. You're deahd," he answered. Jinx raised an eyebrow.
"Clearly I'm not," she pointed out. The gravedigger ignored her, except to throw another shovelful of dirt into the grave. Jinx squealed and ducked.
"Sorry, miss. I'm undah ordahs nottah let any of 'em up aghain. Naht since 'a last time," he sighed. Jinx looked at him warily, wondering for a moment what had happened "last time", and then stepped out of the hole.
"Honestly, if you don't what to 'let them up again', you might want to consider deeper graves," she said. The gravedigger gave a long-suffering sigh and then swung his shovel at her head. Jinx shrieked and dodged, throwing her arms over her head. "What the heck?!" She yelled.
"Sahrry aghain, miss. I don't mean no harm, but I cantta 'llow the undeahd to roam the streehts once moah'."
Jinx zapped him with her powers, absolutely certain that the 'don't permanently harm civilians or prison staff' rule didn't apply to the clinically insane, especially if they were trying to kill her with heavy, blunt objects. Unfortunately, the pink electricity bolt attracted the attention of the prison vehicle, which had started driving away. "Shoot," Jinx muttered, and then turned and ran.
Jinx returned to the prison held in between two guards, feet not touching the floor. She twisted in their grip. "C'mon, guys, it's my last day here anyway. Can't you just let me stay out? I mean, I totally would've gotten away if the gravedigger guy wasn't completely nuts," she wheedled. The guards ignored her, instead continuing silently down the hallway. "Can you at least get that branch out of my hair? You know, the one that got stuck there when you tripped me and sent me tumbling down a hill? Using a completely unnecessary police dog unit, I might add? Has anyone testing those things for rabies recently?" She asked. The guards stayed silent under her verbal assault. Jinx half-heartedly renewed her struggles, at least until she heard the sobbing coming from the infirmary.