If he was being honest with himself, Face didn't expect his infiltration to succeed. He'd expected to get through a couple of doors, but then get spotted immediately by a guard or warden.

But there he was: Down in the prison archives, looking for the evidence from the shipyard, and he had probably picked a good twenty door locks and stole five keycards to get down there. Down the hall, he could hear the heavy footfalls of a guard, and the beam of a torch shone past the door as the uniformed man walked by. Face cast a brief glance around, before continuing to try and rewire the circuitry of the keycard reader, and that was only because he'd scoured the dark, empty offices and not found a single keycard. That meant he was having to rely on his limited electrician skills to try and reset the four-digit button lock on the evidence room door. He winced as yet another spark came and ran a shock through his finger.

"Sonofabitch..." he murmured, raising the brow of his hat slightly as he contemplated cutting through all the cables. He did, however, remember hearing about keycard readers that would set off a silent alarm when they had their power disconnected, once again from his trusted heister friend, Jim Oxworth. He knew just about everything involving the criminal underworld of Remnant, about security companies and systems, and had well over three hundred heists successfully pulled off over his career.

Of course, that spree had to come to an end at some point, explaining why he was even in the jail to tell Face all this shit.

Face did have a brief thought: What if he were to break Jim out, and maybe some others? New identities and what-have-you, and it's all sorted. Then again, if someone found out it was he who freed them, then he'd be screwed. If he was being honest, the prison was just going by regulations when they put him in that nice cell. If he was found to be doing something illegal, they'd just put him in with the other inmates, and he'd have an actual prison sentence. Plus, Glynda was expecting him at that 'staff training session' or whatever she had called it, and he wasn't really intending to piss off Glynda for any reason.

He sighed, and decided that it wasn't in his best interests to free anyone from prison, just as the cables to the locking mechanism gave another jolt. This time, however, the small faceplate on the card reader lit up a smaller green light, and the door itself clicked into an unlocked state. Face pumped a fist slightly in success, and slipped into the evidence locker, making sure to put something in the way of the door so it wouldn't close again. The locker itself was fairly dark, Face's sunglasses-obscured vision being able to easily make out the shapes of boxes and other objects on shelves, a desk to his right where evidence was signed in, plus the silhouette of another door in the back corner of the room. Face listened carefully for a few moments, just to make sure there were no guards coming, and finally started to crouch walk over to the desk. If be could find anything related to his case, then his job of finding his equipment would be a bit easier to accomplish.

Face gathered a small amount of momentum, and silently vaulted his way over the desk, coming to a crouch on the other side. His boots made the faintest tink of impact as he landed, which prompted him to stay still for a moment to check for incoming footsteps. When none arose, he waited a moment in the darkness, then peeked over the desk.

Nobody there.

"Perfect..." Face whispered to himself as he began to rifle through the drawers. The prison wouldn't just store evidence randomly, there must have been something; a list, document, whatever, that might tell him where they put his backpack. He checked every drawer, every cabinet, and every small compartment for anything of the sort, but no luck. As he was about to check another, previously unseen drawer, he checked the pin board behind him.

He frowned and sighed: Right in the middle of it was a list of evidence cabinets and what they contained. Rubbing his face with his hand, he slouched for a few moments and snatched the paper from the wall, trudging out to the rows of shelves. He cast a glance down at the paper. "Vale Dockyard..." His eyes drifted over the page as he carefully paced down the rows of shelving units. Finally, he spotted the words in both the dull light and his dull vision (sunglasses, and a mask, at one in the morning). "Locker seven, row eight. Times one 'Brown Duffel Sack Containing Various Items Of Apparel And Firearms'." He was about to head over there, until he read the small note beneath.

Illegal weapons recovered by officers are to be taken to the armoury. No exceptions.

"Ack, fuckin' hell..." Face grumbled. "Where the hell is the armoury? I'd probably need another fucking keycard for that place..."

Click.

"Down on the ground, sir," a voice commanded from behind him. Face was about to turn and see his opponent, when he had what was blatantly a pistol barrel pushed into his back. "Don't move! Down on your knees!"

"Fuck off," Face shot back. The officer behind him began to inhale in preparation for a new order or threat, and that brief respite was all Face needed.

He span, delivering a swift elbow to the guard's face and staggering him. As he was dropping slightly, Face swept up around him and wrapped his inner arm around the guard's neck, locking it in place with his free arm. His suited opponent began to thrash his legs wildly, and his arms flailed for the apparently suppressed pistol he had been carrying, but found no purchase. Eventually, the strangled coughs and wheezes slowed, and Face was able to drag the unconscious man behind the desk.

He stood back to admire the pure dastardly hiding of the body.

Then he realised his foot was sticking up over the top of the desk.

"For fuck's sake."

Several contortion attempts later...

After collecting his backpack (not duffel bag), Face felt proud that he had managed to successfully store someone in a small metal locker for the first time. Now he understood why it was a popular thing to do in US high schools. What he didn't understand, however, was how he was going to get to the armoury, and that annoyed him to no end. He'd looted the guard as well, thankfully bestowing him with a keycard, telescopic baton, a pair of handcuffs (with no key), two suppressed pistol magazines, and the suppressed pistol itself.

Also, some nice shoes and a suit, which Face promptly dropped into his backpack. He spent a moment admiring how they seemed to just fall into the nearly infinite hammerspace abyss that stored his hats.

Finally, backpack on his back, he dropped to a low crouch with the silenced pistol in hand, keeping an eye down the corridor, and began to advance towards a staircase. If he was unmistaken, the usual positioning of an armoury would mean that it would be fairly deep underground, as an insurance that both CCTV would catch someone sneaking around and that if anything exploded or went wrong, damage would be minimized. Of course, as Face understood from Engineer's spontaneous rants about building structures, an underground detonation with a few barrels of gunpowder or other volatile substance would rip through the lower support rods of a building and effectively destroy it in one go: Guy "DeGroot" Fawkes proved this, when he blew up Parliament and was later discovered to have been paid fifty pence and a sausage roll.

Thus, Face needed to go deeper.

Copious body hidings and bullets later...

The keycard entering the reader made the most satisfying noise imaginable for Face. Almost got spotted several times; Guards almost saw the cameras being shot out; Guards almost found their unconscious coworkers; And one guard almost slipped on one of Face's spent casings. He did feel quite bad for having to knock out guards and put them in conveniently placed bins. The guards of the prison were actually alright blokes: It was only their profession that forced them to make decisions that inmates strongly disliked.

He was almost tempted to alert the other guards to his presence.

However, steering him away from that temptation was an array of firearms that made him drool. Legal and not-so-legal, the walls were lined with racks of various weapons, ranging from federal-issue sidearms, shotguns, and rifles, to military equipment, and repossessed illegal weapons. However, as he looked over them, his weapons caught his eye near-instantly. Due to their bleak appearance, the appearance of other guns helped his weapons to stand out from the racks. His shotgun was inbetween what appeared to be a bunch of Mossbergs; his rocket launcher(s) were locked in a metal cage beneath the racks; his Huntsman bow and Fortified Compound were left on the table; all of his knives were in a bucket; and his other sniper rifles were mounted on a rack with several other long range weapons.

Eagerly, Face placed his backpack onto the table in the center of the room, and began grabbing all the weapons he could. When it came to the launchers, he looked away, and delivered a pair of silenced pistol shots to the padlock, and slid the door open, taking the launchers and storing them in his near-infinite hammerspace bag. Though, he did also make sure to grab a few other weapons.

He'd never seen a suppressor on a shotgun before, nor had he ever seen a rifle with a magazine. All he had was a machine pistol.

It did take a few minutes, he admitted, and it took quite a while to figure out how he was gonna escape. Was he going to break Jim out? He had his Hitman's Heatmaker. That was silenced, he could probably shoot out the lock from a distance and nobody would hear. Plus, if he was caught, he could be mistaken for any White Fang guy because of the mask he was wearing, giving him the opportunity to leg it. Could also be passed off as another White Fang raid: Those did happen whilst Face was in jail. Normally nothing good came out of it, and Face just had to put up with another extremist cunt yelling at him and telling him that because he's a human, he sucks, but...yeah, they happened a lot.

Sighing, Face reached into his pocket, and retrieved a coin.

Break out Jim would be heads, leave him for some other time would be tails.

Making sure he was standing on a non-echoing surface, he placed the coin on the top of his fist and flicked it with his thumb, a metal ping ringing out as the small circle flipped into the air. Not looking, Face snatched it as it came down, threw it up again, and caught it. He finally placed it face-down on the back of his hand.

Somehow, it was balanced on its edge.

"What the actual fuck?" he groaned, putting the coin away. "Sod it, I'll come back for Jim some other tone." Ensuring he had everything, Face dropped to a crouch and began to make his way out of the building.

He cast a glance to his watch.

5:00 AM? Holy shit, Glynda was gonna kill him if he wasn't back by 10:00 AM. The airship ride normally took three hours, the buses weren't running to the station at that time...

Mentally steeling himself, Face decided that the best exit was the main entrance of the prison, and began to run down the halls to the main cell block. From there, he could get down via the catwalks, and...maybe break out Jim. He did have a silenced shotgun now. Pausing, he unslung his backpack, and retrieved his new toy. Making sure it was loaded, he slipped his backpack back on and checked the wall signs in the dim light.

Control Room, Cell Blocks A-F

Perfect. He hadn't been meaning to kill anyone tonight, but since he was disguised, Face was more than happy to make exceptions if the need arose.