Sitting in a metal cell, restrained by a straitjacket tightly strapped to his body, his ankles shackled together, Ethan Taylor, AKA Bacchus, chuckles quietly. "Poor fools," he says, working his way to his feet. "They should know better than to keep people like us locked up. It's like pulling a ferocious animal out of the wild and sticking him in a zoo. If they get out, it'll be a bloodbath."

Stationed outside of his cell, one of the two fully-armed guards sighs. "Great," he mutters, "he's going at it again." The other guard, a young man who looked to be barely out of his teenage years, asks, "He says this often?"

The older guard chuckles and says, "Just about every day. I just don't see why they don't sedate him. Not only would he shut up, we'd be able to do things worth our time rather than stand here." The younger guard suggests, "Maybe he's not as dangerous as they tell us?" The older guard turns to his colleague and says in a quiet voice, "Tell that to the families of those he's slaughtered. To the wives he's widowed, the children he's orphaned. If you decide to do that, you'll have quite a job ahead of you...there are hundreds of them."

Sitting in his cell, Ethan lets out a bark of laughter, hearing the two guards talk about his handiwork. "And I was just getting started!" he yells at them. "If it weren't for you bastards, I'd still be out there, living it up, walking in seas of blood with a line of women miles long following behind me! But you guys just had to step in because what I was doing was 'morally wrong!' Well, I'll let you know you and everyone else in this entire 'prison' may as well have signed your own death warrants when you caught me. When I get out of here, I'll hunt each and every last one of you and make you watch as I slowly bleed your entire family dry..."

The young guard swallows nervously, but the older one only chuckles. "Don't worry about him," he says. "There's nothing he can do. What with the power dampener, straitjacket, and three-foot-thick steel walls, he can't get out. Even if he could, he'd still be outnumbered twenty-to-one. He wouldn't make it three feet without getting drilled full of holes."

Ethan hears the man essentially say that it was impossible for him to get out, the thought making him chuckle. "If only they know that the impossible doesn't exist, anymore," he mutters under his breath as he waits for his opportunity.