With a an arch of an eyebrow Volt watched Emmanuel zoom into the distance, the man little more than a rapidly fading flash on the horizon. 

“Whelp, I cannae dae that.” he said to no one in particular, thrusting his hands in his pockets. Another whoosh of air informed him that Hot-Rod had fired off now as well, no doubt eager to prove who was faster between him and Emmanuel. He doubted that would be a contest Ryker would lose. The Lightning-Slinger shook his head slightly in wry amusement before striding towards a VTOL, being the last to slope up the ramp. That was by design, the last in was the first out. Better him than someone else. 

He didn’t know anyone else on the VTOL, or at least not enough to make conversation, so he busied his hands by flicking his ear bud on. The bud was his secret weapon, his link to Silvertongue, master hacker and informant. Silvertongue, born Szymon Glowski, was a Polish resident of London, a bear of a man with a natural affinity for computers. Volt had met him years ago, and the two had worked together ever since, Szymon providing technical support to the Lightning-Slinger. As usual Szymon was waiting for the link to open, his network of information probably making him aware of the prison break as quick, if not quicker, than the League. 

“This is what it takes huh?” began Szymon without any preamble “A crises the likes of which the world has rarely seen for you to finally call your old friend. I have half a mind to hang up on you, you ingrate!” 

“Ye wouldna dae that Silvertongue, cause then ah’d be forced tae inform her majesty’s finest about yer less than legal hobbies. Credit card fraud is still a crime, right?” A few of the other occupants of the VTOL were giving him queer looks, but he could handle queer looks. The help that Silvertongue gave him was indispensable. 

“Damn you, you un-educated Highland bastard! I curse the day I ever met you. At least turn on those new goggles.” The goggles in question were the ones currently on Volt’s head, the same pair that he had requested Savant to whip up for him. These, though looking like his old aviator’s, were in fact high tech pieces of kit, capable of recording and broadcasting images of all they seen. A quick flick of a switch turned them on, enabling Silertongue to see all he seen. 

“Ah, that’s better. Ooo, is that Stunner there? Zoom in on her [I]cycki[/i]!” Volt looked away guiltily, a breath catching in his throat as a scene that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a blockbuster action movie met his eyes. This wasn’t a movie though, this was real life. Unfortunately it was his life. The scene must have been bad, because it was enough to even silence Szymon, who usually didn’t even close his mouth to chew. The sprawling chaos was hard to focus on, the billowing smoke and raging fires adding to the confusion. A horde of supernatural creatures blockaded entrance to the prison, but Zenith and several other heavy hitters crashed into the beasties lines like a typhoon, clearing a path for the VTOL’s to enter the prison. [I]Show time.[/I]

“Blondie,” Whispered Silvertongue down the earbud. 

“Aye?” 

“Good luck in there.” Now that was worrisome. Szymon was never serious. 

The VTOL was touching down in the yard now, the wind from the other crafts and chaos of the running battle making them difficult to land. Volt could almost taste the nervousness coming off in waves from the other occupants. None of them, himself included, had ever seen action like this. He had an advantage though, an unspoken trick that made him better suited to this than the rest of the heroes with him. The truth was that he was always terrified, so to him this was just any other mission. He would just pretend at courage again, like any other time, and pray that he made it out the other side. The doors slid open, Volt preparing himself to charge out. 

“First round at the fortress is on me, once this is all over!” he called, receiving a few laughs from the other heroes, and at their laughter he could feel the group calming slightly. Not much, but enough to count for something. And with that he disembarked, jumping out into a swirling hell of energy blast, battle cries and howls of pain. [I]Almost as bad as the streets of Glasgow after an Old Firm Game.[/I]

Precious moments were spent trying to make sense of the anarchy, but he finely managed to get his bearings. He couldn’t see Sonja or Hot-Rod, and Emmanuel was no more than a pulsating source of energy across the yard, but he could see his old ‘pal’ Boomer, taking pot shots at the hero Red-Eye. 

“Ain’t that the exploding guy from the bank job?” Silvertongues voice was nothing but a whisper against the backdrop of the raging battle. 

“Aye, ah reckon it is,” replied Volt, gritting his teeth and charging up a blast. Volt was part of the reason that Boomer was here, and he’d be damned if he would be letting the big lummox out. The villain was tough, but as history showed he wasn’t tough enough to resist a shock of the good stuff. Boomer’s back was to him, as big and inviting a target as Volt had ever seen, but he had a lot to do so he sent a quick high volt, low amp blast the villain’s way, the arc of lightning searing across the courtyard. If it connected it would disrupt Boomer long enough for Red-eye to get in a good shot, freeing up Volt to continue on. If it didn’t then the Lightning-Slinger would just have to work a little harder to put the exploding hazard down.