The man crouching before Ryan looked familiar, but he couldn't put a name to the face. Even the absence of a mouth below the man's nose failed to prompt anything.

Fucking memory.

Ah. Yes. There it all was.

"Jarvis," he said with a hint of triumph.

The man nodded and began to back out of the cage, the use of his name a sure indication Ryan was fine.

"The bitch shot me."

"You deserved it. You should tell her you don't remember anything. She won't have to keep killing you, then."

"Keep? How many times have I been shot?"

"I ain't telling you nothing. You've gotta learn on your own. Earn it." Jarvis shook his head emphatically. "If I tell you that, you'll be wanting to know how many times you've been stabbed, electrocuted and decapitated. She likes that one. Thinks she's a fucking samurai."

"Deca... How many times have I died? How the fuck can that happen? This is crazy! You all are!"

Fourteen. She said fourteen, didn't she?

"I don't deny that, 'cos I'm sure we are. Gotta be. This is the sanest thing ever, though."

"If you think that, you're crazier than I thought," Ryan said angrily.

"If you knew, you'd understand."

"Then tell me."

"Not a chance. IF she wanted you to know, she'd tell you."

"Then you may as well go. Leave me alone."

"I was going, till you started talking to me. You ain't so special, you know, whatever she thinks."

Bradley thought he was special. She'd said as much, more or less. But why? And...

"Decapifuctingtation?" he asked, shaking his head. His merging understanding had taken a severe beating.

Jarvis laughed.

"Decaifuckingwhateveryou..."

Jarvis didn't finish his sentence. Ryan turned his foot to the side and, with all his force, kicked out as hard as possible in the direction of the other's voice. Bones crunched unpleasantly under his heal. Jarvis stumbled back, but bounced against the edge of the cage's door, coming forward again. Ryan repeated his action, scrambling closer first to allow more power. This time, when his heel collided with Jarvis's face, the man was thrown back, violently. The back of his head collided with the doorway's edge and he grunted before slumping to the floor, unmoving.

"It's called decapifuckingtation, idiot," Ryan hissed.

He hesitated. He'd tried this before and it hadn't gone well. He'd been plagued by the ghost of his daughter – steady... steady... - and had been recaptured. This time, Jarvis was not going to be coming after him, at least not immediately. A light touch on the fallen man's neck indicated he was still alive.

Better than had befallen Ryan. Was there a twinge of disappointment?

He carefully sidestepped the crumpled jailor and moved out of the cage. Before leaving, he crouched and searched the, unfortunately not deceased, body. Ah! There! Keys!

He yanked them free of the clasp holding them in place, tearing material in the process, and hurried as cautiously as possible away. Within a few seconds, he was at another cage.

"Here," he whispered automatically. There was no need for secrecy, as the noise he'd made would have alerted anyone watching, but speaking normally felt wrong, even though he had done so with Jarvis. "Use these. Get out, then get everyone else out."

There was no reply from the cage's occupant, but there was breathing.

"Come on. We don't have time for this. Just take them!"

"No," said a female voice. The owner was young. Too young to be dragged into this mess. "Leave me alone, or they'll come for us."

"Not if you get everyone out. They can't fight us all."

"No! Go away! Leave me alone, I said!"

Fuck it!

Ryan turned away and moved further into the night.

"I'll take 'em."

Yes! He followed the voice and passed the keys through the bars to the awaiting hands.

"Hurry!" he insisted.

"You don't need to worry about that. Thanks for shutting that fucker up."

He heard the keys enter a lock and turn, then someone moving quickly. He should do the same!

He had been careful not to get turned around in the darkness, or hopefully not, so knew exactly in which direction he needed to go. There were likely to be further cells between himself and the wall of doors and, now, potentially freed prisoners too. The obvious sounds of escapees trying to quietly celebrate and attempt a common path made him smile. He needed to be swift and vigilant, however, so couldn't concern himself with them. His urge to just run was strong, but the desire to arrive in one piece was stronger. Thankfully, he only collided with one cell on his way. His shoulder was jarred, but the ache faded rapidly.

"Thank you," said the rasping voice from within proudly.

"Sure."

Don't thank me, thought Ryan. You're not out yet! The rest is up to you!

Finally, he was at a wall. Was it the right one?

He moved sideways, keeping his palm against the smooth surface, and was relieved to find a raised, vertical section that signified the door surround. Still, again, was it the one he needed? He might have been shuffling away instead of towards. He had no choice but to continue, in the hope he'd come to the far edge, then he could retrace his steps.

He just had to imagine the scene from the briefest flash he'd had before. He couldn't remember under what circumstances he'd seen this, but could picture it in sharp definition. Unfortunately, every time he did, the specific entrance required moved! He had to trust himself, though. The image might change, but his gut told him where he needed to be.

Hopefully, close would be close enough. He was wary of trying just any door, as it could be locked and precious seconds would be wasted. Potentially worse, it could be unlocked. On the other side could be someone waiting to grab him and make him pay for his actions.

Dead might, next time, mean dead.

Undeterred, Ryan continued, able to progress faster now he wasn't wandering aimlessly. Eventually, after three more interruptions in the wall, he reached a corner. He stood in silence, listening. The released prisoners had gathered somewhere further into the room. Their voices, initially loud, had hushed again. The instilled instruction to not speak couldn't be shaken, even though they were no longer incarcerated.

There were so many of them! Even in the darkness, he could sense the large mass of people huddled and afraid. Their fear was palpable and Ryan wanted to shout at them to shift their arses! The chance he'd given them was not to be squandered. He had his own plan to follow.

Plan. What a laughable word to use? It indicated intent. A destination. Perhaps he should join the throng and lead them to freedom. Cry havoc and get the fuck out. But no. When he'd originally chosen to head towards the wall of doors, part of him thought this would be a way out. If that was the case, they would all be there with him. He'd have told them to follow him. The help would have been useful, that was for sure. Bradley's lackeys might be able to take down a few, but not all of them at once.

So, why had he not done so?

Because the way out was not beyond those doors. Because beyond one of those doors answers dwelled. And, no doubt, more questions. He wasn't content with ignorant escape. It would leave every question burrowing through his mind until there was nothing left. Each uncertainty would be imprinted on him like footsteps on the road to madness. He was already halfway there.

Right. And back.

He moved with faux confidence. Six along. Not five or seven. Six. The image in his mind jumped from one to a thousand, but that was because it was trying too hard to focus. If he ignored it and went for the one he knew it to be, he would be fine. Or, if not fine, correct. 'Fine' entirely depended on what came after.

Then, his hand was upon it, searching for the handle. As he twisted it, there was a shriek behind him followed by painful, blistering light. Shouts and a gun shot. Screams. Fighting.

The door opened.

Except, Ryan had yet to push it from his side.

It had been pulled.