This is bad. This is very bad. Whatever they had on his powers, they hadn't taken any chances. After the questioning, they'd brought him somewhere different than the first place.
And that's when the guards ended up dancing a two-step on his face with their fists and shoved him inside a wooden crate. Bastards even knew not to nail it shut. Mason could hear ropes being wrapped around the panel that had shut the top. They'd done their homework.
He was terrified with wondering what might be happening to the rest of the team, but he had to do something. The loose change in his wallet and the polyster jersey he'd thrown on had been just enough to make a hand held non-powered drill. Just enough to let him get a peek into where he was being held. Or drill to freedom, in about eighteen months.
Still guarded, and no windows in whatever room they were in that he could see. Fantastic.
Framed for a crime they didn't commit, locked up in cells tailored to their abilities, and no hope of appeal.
If whatever plan any of the others came up with worked, this was going to be legendary. A TV show and comic books would be made. Maybe even a movie.
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