Helen grinned as she hurried down the hall toward the cage room. It was finally time! To see their work in action, not wastefully disposed of after such a great success... It was very exciting. She longed to throw open the door to the cage room with the dramatic panache that her mood merited.

She was completely unsurprised to find Quincy holding court instead of getting on with things.

"Quincy," she barked, voice as sternly maternal as she could make it, "stop playing games. If we're going to pull this off, we need to do it now, before HE finds out. The cameras are looped for," she made a show of checking her watch, "six more minutes. If they're not out by then, this whole thing will be blown to hell. And I'm not going down for it," she added.

Anmar stared in mild skepticism. Surely they aren't about do do what I think they're about to do...

After... she had lost track of time, actually- all this time, they were just going to release her? Just like that? Two people? Against a small legion of guards?

Well, might as well try anyway.

Nezeret got so suprised by the girl that came in and yelled to the guy that was sitting at the desk that the small air marbles vanished. He lost focus totally. What was going on? Six more minutes? What did she mean with getting it going? Everything made absolutely no sense....And for some reason he liked it.

Then came the energetic female; running in and spouting nonsense to the clown. Not a lot was made clear - it only confused Sam some more. Something was happening, and six minutes remained. What could be happening outside?

He thought of the other people, that were taken out of the cage room. The lynx sat, curious, waiting to see where this would lead.

Helen was not at all surprised by Quincy's lack of appropriate action. If she waited for him, they would be here all day. Turning away, she bit her lip as she looked around the cages. This was about to get messy. She hadn't thought about what the prisoners might do on their way out. McFarland had promised that the destruction would be limited, but she hadn't been counting on being at ground zero for the escape.

Oh well, here was hoping they had a sense of gratitude.

"The guards on the door are temporarily disabled," she said, raising her voice to be heard. "If you follow that hall, you will reach an exit. You have less than six minutes. Once you're outside, you're on your own."

As she spoke, she walked over to the main controls and entered a series of codes to get all the cages to release their doors at once. As they hissed open, she pushed the computer off the desk to "destroy the evidence" of her tampering.

Hopefully she would live through this.

Amnar immediately scrambled out, glaring at the male guard as she did so. Right. Get to wooden desk. Make sword of out wooden desk. Run away as quickly as possible.

Grunting, she attempted to break off the leg of the only wooden desk and failed. She tried again. Nothing. Maybe... She held out her hand, focusing on making the area where the leg connected to the desk thinner. It did, flowing like thick syrup, and she easily snapped it off. Without moving from her position, she closed her eyes and clenched her right hand around the wooden desk leg, focusing on the shape of a sword.

Quincy crouched as Helen opened the cages, expecting more than one projectile to be hurled his way. "Just having a bit of fun waiting for you to get here, Helen. Not entirely correct that they'll be on their own, however." The masked man produced his string of handkerchiefs, undoing the knot on the eighteenth. "Pick yourself a comfy chair, I'm breaking the door once we get out of the room."

Fio Enyer sat on the ground, having tried unsuccessfully to eat the stale bread left for him. He was gathering intel about the room around him, trying to piece some of this mystery together.

Briefly, he tried to think back and remember who he had thoroughly pissed off enough that would come after him in such an elaborate revenge scheme, but he could only narrow the list to a few people…or four dozen or so. When you took work with a mercenary firm that liked dipping its toes in contract kills in mafia wars, some very stereotypical gangster types took notice.

As the woman stood in the center of the room and raised her voice, announcing that there was only six minutes to escape, Fio felt his blood turn to ice as adrenaline spiked through his system. There were two ways you could fight, a drill instructor in the Marines once told him, Ice Cold or Red Hot. Always be the former.

The electronic lock next to his head beeped, and since he was leaning against the cage door, it swung open before he could pull himself away, sending the young mercenary falling to the ground, landing with a thud.

Well, he never said any about being graceful and ice cold, Fio chided himself as he lay on the ground facing the ceiling. But jokes weren’t going to help here. He pushed himself up, and stood in what felt like the first time in ages, grimacing as his spine popped.

As the crowd around him began exiting their cages, Fio ignored modesty for practicality, and he ripped through the hospital gown and quickly donned his civilian clothes that were waiting for him on the table. He looked around the room, searching for something he could improvise as a weapon. The woman earlier had mentioned guards; Fio was more the long-range type of soldier, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t fight hand-to-hand; he just was rusty at it.

There was a scalpel on the medical cart nearest his cage, he grabbed at it. It was something, but a glow from a few feet away from him caused Fio’s brain to change gears without using the clutch. A girl in her late teens was concentrating deeply, eyes scrawled shut as a piece of wood in her hand was changing shape. Wood can’t do that his rational mind screamed, but his soldier training took over and instinctively caused him to back away a few steps taking a fighting stance.

Forcing his fear back down, Fio stammered out, “How….how are you doing that?”

Helen had been planning to walk away and pretend she was never there. It didn't matter, of course, because she was following orders - no matter what, she wasn't getting in trouble for this. She was making it up as she went along, though, and Quincy's implied plan had a lot of merit.

She chose a chair with arms.

"Get on with it," she said with a little grimace. Hopefully he wouldn't get it in his head that knocking her unconscious would be necessary.

The doors swung open. Sam sat up, his tail swishing frantically. It was right there; freedom in his sights. He could run now. Be free to do what he wants - no idle waiting, no need to watch others socialize with so much envy - he could finally just go an be alone.

To him, however, that sounded like an equally horrid fate as staying here. Neither option seemed to be none the better.

He turned to look at the back of his cage - there it was, the Magician - the card that the clown had given him earlier in the week. He looked at it, and he somehow remembered the order perfectly.

He took Death from the clown's hands - then he followed to draw Heirophant - the symbol of trust. Then the Magician, which he had given - the harlequin was exceptionally vague about that - unless the Magician referred to someone...

He turned to look at Quincy, withdrawing loops of hankerchiefs. Samuel had found the Magician, it seemed.

The next cards drawn where Emperor, then Justice.

The Emperor was the head of the facility, Sam could figure - and Justice was obvious. Was this the Clown's way of passing a message to him?

It almost brought an amused purr from the lynx - he suddenly felt...special. He picked up the card between his teeth, and made his way over to the newcomer - Helen who had just sat on an armed chair and the clown - Quincy, he recalled the name that Helen had said. He wove past others as they began their escape - and sat in front of Quincy, dropping the card at his feet, almost proud that he managed to figure out the message.

It just left Sam to wonder if the Magician expected him to escape with the rest - or perhaps underlying that some other plan in mind. Or perhaps he was all just part of the greater plan. He suddenly had an odd respect for Quincy.

Nezeret had almost leaped out off the cage to go for the creep of a guard, but he managed to control himself. They were getting the door open, and that meant freedom. And ANYTHING was better than staying in this place. He wanted to just run off, but that would leave him alone. going in a group would mean more power. It was not like he had to stay with the group when they got outside. Right now he just glared at the guard person. Glared with a look that was cold as ice. He REALLY did not like him.

[OOC: I'm going to assume the fighting stance is obvious enough that she could notice it.]

Her eyes snapped open when she heard a voice that might very well have been directed at her.
When she looked around, she saw a heavy-built man with a beer gut staring at her. He also seemed to be in a fighting stance. She held up the piece of wood, which had finished being shaped.

"You know, I have absolutely no idea. Apparently they're doing something involving... well, this," she said, indicating the sword. "And, oddly enough, transformation." Testing it on her finger to make sure it was sharp, she drew blood. As she winced, she noticed he was holding a scalpel. "Would you like something more effective than what you're currently holding?" she asked, starting to break another leg off the table. "I was planning on wrecking his desk anyway."

Fio was surprised by the teenager’s answer and generosity. “Uh…yeah, sure. Combat knife; something balanced fer throwing, if you can manage that. Never learned how to fence.”

He looked around the room. Most of everyone was out of their cages by now, some humans, some animals. Right now, all he cared about was finding the way out, and finding out who had set him up like this and introducing him or her to Fio’s boot up their cornhole, for starters.

“Fergive my ignorance, kid, but do you even know where we are? I just woke up from an obviously fun event I can’t remember.”

Fio would have explained further, but he felt raw pain spread from his gut outward. He was used to pain; the Marines called it weakness leaving the body, but this was nothing like he ever experienced. The scapel fell to the ground as he doubled over, the pain in his gut felt like his insides being poured into liquid nitro and being broken with a hammer. Blue light crisscrossed his form as his skin turned black and long strands of white fur began growing from every inch of skin.

His cotton wear blended away, he was forced on all fours as his hands and feet shifted, long claws growing at their tips. His short hair disappeared, and he finished the transformation to polar bear with a short growl.

The pain subsiding, Fio panicked harder as he saw an elongated snout in front of his eyes, was now on all fours, and had white fur covering everything. Okay, either someone slipped me some really good s#@%…

"Alright, voting is over, anyone who didn't get a chance forfeits it to me, and I put 'em all on Helen here!" Hopping off the desk, Quincy quickly wrapped the cloths around Helen and the chair. "Any objections can be deposited in the suggestion box next to the break room!"

The masked man spun and caught sight of Sam sitting at his feet. Noticing the card, he grinned. "Figured it out, eh? Had to be either that or The Fool, but that one would be more fitting for Ru." Quincy looked at the group of freed subjects, still waiting to be attacked. "Can't say I'm sorry for how I've been over the last few weeks guys, but this gig's pretty well set to go sour, and I want to be on the first train back out the rabbit hole! We have about two minutes to get organized, then we're heading for the nearest exit, no pit stops along the way!"

She had started on the combat knife, saying as she did, "I can't make it balanced for throwing." When he asked as to their location, she replied, "Last thing I remember I was in the Bridger and was jumped. Then I woke up here and spent... well, I forget how long, actually- quite a while here. And apparently we're under a large body of water."

The scalpel clattered to the floor. When she turned around, a large polar bear was in the man's place. "Alternatively, that form might well be better suited for combat."

So they had to escape after all.

Sam was unsure as to what lay outside- why or what would happen once he did. But then he decided to comply - if only because Quincy said so. The lynx turned around and watched the rest through his amber-brown eyes, seeing them assemble and prepare.

In pre-emptive preparation, he focused onto his arms, and slowly a sheet of ice began to form a glove around his paws that stretched up his fore and hindlegs, conforming themselves into a crystalline layer of a frozen liquid. His arms felt protected by the sheets yet his mobility wasn't hindered, as if the sheet of ice around his limbs was some form of chain than a plate. His actual glove however took on the form of sharp claws that seemed to cover his own - a pointed, razor sharp edge slightly curved towards its end.

All things considered, Fio handled his first transformation into a polar bear fairly well. That is to say, with all the dignity and grace you’d expect the average person to have who just has been told their car had been flattened by a runaway tank.

“Rrrowwaarrooo” he called out in a bear voice, still expecting words to form. His heart pounded in his chest, and his brain tried to figure out what the hell had just happened to him.

He tried to take a step back, but finding his center of gravity somewhat changed, and not used to quadruped motion, his front legs tripped. Fio’s chin hit the ground with a thud, while his rump remained somewhat comically in the air. He admonished himself in his head, Okay, Fio. You’ve been in worse spots; you’re an ex-marine. Whatever’s been done to you, you’re still Fio Enyer, service number 3129-4096FE. Get up..

Slowly, he picked himself up, pushing off the claws for help. He wondered for a moment just exactly how such a transformation happened, and if he could change back, but squashed that thought.

He could figure out what was going on inside him later. Right now, his only priority was getting to safety. He’d figure out how he transformed and who gave him the ability later. He looked over at the girl in front of him. He’d follow her for now, or at least until he managed to get out of this base.

Amnar toyed with the idea of turning the knife she had been making into a small breastplate so getting hit with a Taser would be harder, and after a few seconds, decided to go with it. "Do you mind if I turn the knife into something else, now that you don't have opposable thumbs?" As she did, she placed her hand on the desk and started focusing on turning it to sawdust.

Fio thought for a moment, and then shook his head “no,” as if to say, “No, I don’t mind.”

He turned his head and looked back towards his flank. Well, putting on triple his normal weight was doing nothing for his figure. Did polar bears have personal trainers? Still, he thought, polar bears were the apex predator of arctic. I may prefer a sniper rifle but hey, bear claws.

He remembered, only six minutes to escape…
He offered a growl as if to say, “We have to move,” and lowered his shoulders to allow the girl to climb on. He hadn’t given anyone a piggy back ride for some time, but prudence demanded that they get going sooner than later.