[center][h2][color=A52A2A]Vincent Cawler[/color][/h2][/center]
As he stood up from his near-fetal position, still holding the back of his head, Vincent watched as the students all dealt with the situation in their own unique ways. Most of them freaked out, obviously. One thought it was a dream and that jumping in the tar-like oceans around them was the best idea. Idiot. The fall wouldn't have hurt if it was a dream. Another of them couldn't handle the stress and practically crumpled onto the concrete, blubbering like a kid. Vincent sneered before turning his gaze around. The apocalyptic landscape, the roiling waters, the massive and bizarrely-shaped prison, none of it concerned Vincent. His spirit, maybe, was too sanded down to react to such outrageous circumstances.

He stared down, grinding his toes into the ground and kicking up dust, watching the pink particles pulse and splash around. It wasn't a hallucination, at least, Vincent wasn't creative enough to conjure up something so vivid, so specific. Drugs? Looking around at the rest of them again, Vincent was sure it couldn't be that either. He was sure he hadn't ingested anything these kids also did. The only connection between them was the cracks. Maybe that was it? Cracks in the ground... a gas leak?

Before he could ponder any more, the prison guards approached, waving their batons and barking orders as prison guards are wont to do. Their appearance brought out the only tangible reaction from Vincent. His eyes widened, his shoulders tensed, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Whatever explanation there was to what was happening, cops were still cops, no matter what his addled mind saw them as. Being arrested right now would be a death-sentence either way it went - if he surrendered and his connection was traced back to Orland, he'd be dead in his cell by the end of the day. If he came out of things without suspicion, one of the officers working for the man would bring the news to Orland, and Vincent would be executed for slipping up so bad.

Acting on pure survival instinct, Vincent didn't even pretend to follow the orders to march. He slammed into the nearest guard like a linebacker, toppling the shadowy figure over and into some of his compatriots, capitalizing on the surprise by sprint as fast as his legs could take him through the gap he made. The only way to go was into the prison itself, but running free from the guards gave him much better odds.