Arsenelle motions for him to hold out his hands. The Wax-Man complies, and something fires out from her wrist gauntlet. This projectile circles and sprays around his arms, until it forms a hard material that binds his wrists tightly together. From that, a rubbery goo emerges, forming into a hard, transparent bubble around his hands, […]
Sulfur’s form transforms into a cyclone. The sulfurous tip of the funnel arches up to the punctured hole in the wall, and sucks itself out, leaving the Wax-Man once again alone in his cell. He tilts his head, staring perplexed at the now empty space, until he remembers her suggestion. Bouncing up on his toes,
The guard turns and runs off, and Sulfur shifts her full attention to the Wax-Man. He lets go of the iron bars (what remains of them) and slinks over on all fours. Stopping at the edge of the dark gas where her feet would be, he flings his hands out, attempting to take hold of
The Wax-Man inhales deeply to take in Sulfur’s full aroma, while his eyes intently take in her full appearance.
Swinging a leg up, like a double-jointed gymnast, the Wax-Man strikes the guard across the side of his jaw with the heal of his prison slippered foot. Knocking the man off-balance, the Wax-Man throws his other leg against the backside of the man’s knees, which drops him to the floor. Pouncing on top of him,
The caged guard leaps over to the cell door, and with keycard in hand, reaches his arm out between the cell bars, towards the lock. But then, without a sound, a dry, chalky white skinned hand reaches out and grasps the keycard. Both guards look at the Wax-Man, now standing right next to the imprisoned
The second guard takes a hard swallow, noticing what the other guard fails to see. No longer just a twitch, the Wax-Man’s middle finger glides back and forth purposefully, like a pendulum, against the desk top. As slight puffs of smoke emerge around his touch, a small grooved indent forms on the metal tabletop beneath
With his riot club, the guard strikes the side of the Wax-Man’s head so hard that it bounces up and down an inch. But the Wax-Man’s blank eyes still show no signs of recognition, even as blood trickles down into his ear.
The guard slides a keycard through the door lock, and the cell bars clank open. He enters the cell, and stands over the passive Wax-Man, while his partner inches closer to the doorway, but remains outside the small cell. The first guard repeats his disappointed head shake.
