On the way to P.T.H. Correctional Facility

You've heard about it, "The Penthouse," as it's known. A high security prison where the government keeps people with supernatural powers in the middle of the Arizona desert. They execute inmates without trial or appeal - basically a death camp. They caught you, chained your ankles and arms, and stuffed you in the back of a van with some other poor bastard. He's an older gentleman - quite muscular, probably an old thug or something. They gave you a pair of uncomfortable shoes but oddly he's barefoot. Must've ran out of shoes... you think. Standing in a hot van for hours under the desert sun without air conditioning is the least of your discomforts. They have your ankles chained to a rail along the bottom of the van and arms chained to a rail above your head. While your arms went numb over an hour ago, your ankles have been sore for much longer.

"...hey," the other guy whispers to you, "you're that guy - killed all those people. You got that crazy tattoo on your arm I heard about on TV."

"Shut up!" the guard hits him with a baton.

He licks blood from his busted lip and your eyes meet. He glances down, then up, then licks his lip again. Following his eyes you notice his shackles are unlocked - they've been picked in the hours of travelling without anyone noticing. Licking your lips you taste sweat and, if it had a taste, opportunity. He stretches his arms apart just enough to get a grip on the chain between cuffs like a garrote, clearly a sign he's ready to get out of this van on your signal.