The morning of the second of October, all of the pieces began to fit into place. At one particular cafeteria table, sat Salvador Kings, Holden Glasgow, Oscar Oldscars, Garrett and Jasmine Eves, Barney Welsh, Jerry Knowles, Eric Eager, 'Lawbreaker' Gate Fredericks, and Munge.
"So we're all gathered here. Salvador, it's your moment, you know what to do," said Gate.
At that instant, Salvador stood up.
"You all have no strength of character!" he yelled. "We are all prisoners here not by force, but by choice. The impenetrability is naught but an illusion. We can be free!"
On another table, the Detective Pirates gathered.
"Any luck finding Crock?" asked Patricia to the crew.
"I'd rather have breakfast first before looking for Crock. I suspect if we can find each other again, we can find Crock," James answered.
The crew heard in the distance someone yelling. James, Milangelo, and Cameron glanced over out of interest to see what was happening. From their distance, it seemed to be little more than a prisoner causing a disturbance.
"I wouldn't worry about what other prisoners are up to," said Brandon. "We have our own mission."
Salvador continued his speech, causing roars of approval from any prisoners who heard it.
"You try and break out of here then!" shouted one prisoner.
That was all it took.
"I will," answered Salvador. "Who's with me?"
The roars of approval intensified, and Oscar smiled before playing his part. He turned around and yelled, "Riot!"
This word drove the excited prisoners into a frenzy, fighting anyone in their way, and essentially creating a distraction for those seated at Salvador's table, allowing them to slip away.
"Your crew is still on the outside, correct?" asked Holden.
"Yes, now stop talking, we are about to find an exit."
The Detective Pirates saw the riot break out and decided it would be for the best to return to their cells.
As they were about to do so, they saw a familiar face among the riot... Crock was sitting down at his table, fighting off anyone who would try to provoke him.
"He is a marvel. Sitting right in the middle of it all, not budging, simply eating his breakfast," said James.
"Maybe we should try just eating our breakfast?" suggested Patricia. "Might seem less suspicious than going back to our cells, now that I think about it."
Salvador, Gate, and the others were stopped at the exit by a tall man in a black suit.
"I suppose the riot in the cafeteria is your doing?" he asked.
"Vanguard Festival," said Munge. "Or perhaps I should say..."
"You shall say nothing, criminal!"
The Vanguard drew his sword, a blade made from red light. He took a little black ball of out his suit pocket and held it to his nose, and it unfolded into a metal mask. He swung at the group in front of him and Salvador blocked the sword with his bare hands, likely at his highest strength multiplier, and while he stopped the swing, it hurt his hands and pushed him down.
"Hm, probably best to use a blunt instrument in this situation," said the Vanguard. He pressed a button on the hilt of his sword and the light transformed into a baton.
Salvador, despite bloody hands, continued to fight. Vanguard Festival rushed at Salvador and beat him with his light baton. As the former tried to swing at his opponent's stomach, the latter hit him in the shoulder once, preventing the hit from landing. He then swung the baton at his opponent's face. The former was knocked on his side by the hit, and before he could get back up, he was hit again on his side.
Salvador turned on his stomach as he tried to get up, and the Vanguard stepped on his back. The latter delivered one final hit to the back of his opponent's head.
"Four hits. Hm, why are you even locked up here?"
Salvador was not conscious enough to respond.
The Vanguard laughed to himself. "It's alright, you don't need to respond, I don't really care." He turned to the others. "Alright criminals, return to your cells or you will be next."
Everyone there quietly agreed that they would rather not take their chances with Vanguard Festival, and all returned to the cafeteria. The riot continued, as the regular guards seemed to be unable to fight off the rioting prisoners, and the Vanguards were nowhere to be seen.
Crock and the Detective Pirates finished eating and catching up, and all agreed that they would head back to their cells for now. They headed out of the riotous scene right around the time that Gate and company returned.
Vanguard Festival carried Salvador to Zephyr's office.
"Did you bring the cyber-empath?" asked Zephyr.
"I caught him trying to escape, sir."
Zephyr bent down and looked at Salvador's face quizzically. He straightened back up and thought about what he was going to say next. "Yes, you are Salvador Kings. But it's not time for the escape yet. Today we have the riot. Everything will come with time, all to make history in the span of a week."
"Sir?" asked Vanguard Festival.
"Oh, you're still here, Festival? Well, you will be free soon. But you have nothing to worry about. Everything that will happen is the will of the Universe."
James and Roman entered their cell, and talked about what to do next.
"I'd play some music, but there's no instruments in prison and my mimicry powers are disabled in this place," said Roman.
"What would playing music achieve?" asked James.
"It would lighten the mood and provide entertainment."
"There's no need for that, I think that if we wait for a sign that escape is plausible, that is when we will take action."
The other pairs of the Detective Pirates had similar things to talk about, and overall each came to similar conclusions: to wait for some sort of sign.
Crock returned to his cell and met his cellmate.
"The end of the start has begun, soon to usher in the start of the end," said the cellmate. "I remember now, I am Sir January of the Blue Walkers."
Crock raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Is he serious? So he's not a murderer? Haven't heard the name 'Blue Walkers' in a while. Though the talk of rebirth should have tipped me off.
"I know what you're thinking, son of Alistair. The Blue Walkers have all left this planet for greater things, but I remain to fulfil a prophecy. Oh, and my apologies for the rambling earlier. I remembered the person who killed me, though I was seeing through his eyes. When I came back to life, he handcuffed me and gave me to someone who put me in here."
A likely story, thought Crock. Although, knowing my father's name definitely adds a layer of credibility.
"I know more than his name, son of Alistair. Come, let us talk."
Gate shared a cell with a bizarre merman named Glenn. He had coral growing out of his back and big folds on his face that drooped over his neck.
"I know I'm not typical of my species, but I wouldn't be in here if I was. I'd be in the prisons of Merstranger Island."
"Listen, I don't care about your appearance, I want to know whether you want to get out of here," said Gate.
"Yeah man, but I ain't coming with you unless you give me a ride home."
"I'm heading to the Terminus, but I can't make any promises about going to Merstranger Island."
"Well, that's more than anyone else in this joint has been willing to offer me. Tell ya what, you deliver the breakout, and I'm on your side, no questions asked."
As Gate and Glenn struck their last-minute deal, Munge returned to her cell to find Chapter meditating. Alright fine, she thought. He's already made clear he has no interest in what the others have planned. This was most evidenced by the things he was learning in Gaia's realm.
Gaia did not speak to Chapter in any translatable form, yet through sheer concentrative power, the latter was able to learn new wisdom, and prepare himself.
Holden shared a cell with Laura Frankenstein, the sister of Alexander Frankenstein and former Gentleman Guide.
"A breakout, huh? Yeah, I figured as much with that riot in the cafeteria. But they're not going to get anywhere without some direction. Who's leading?" said Laura.
"I'd give full credit to Gate Fredericks, honestly," said Holden.
"It would be bad if you were giving credit dishonestly."
In Zephyr's office, Salvador began to wake up. He was now tied to a chair and seated next to Zephyr as he overlooked the monitors. The latter smirked before bursting into laughter.
"You're just in time, cyber-empath. History is about to be made. All of these inmates, just waiting for a sign. Any day now, I will deactivate the power dampeners..."
Zephyr continued to explain the plan to a half-awake Salvador who was just able to take it all in. He was a little confused that the Warden himself was on their side, given everything that he had experienced up to that point. Nonetheless, he was elated that there was one less factor to worry about, and that the breakout might be more successful than he first thought. The most startling revelation among the Warden's words, however, was the idea that this breakout was historic. Salvador had never thought of himself relative to the larger picture before, and to him it seemed both profound and true.
Chapter awoke from his meditation, to Munge's surprise.
"Has the breakout begun yet?" he asked.
"No, not quite yet. I don't know what's going on right now."
"Well, Munge, I will aid in your breakout, though I myself will remain here. My true breakout will happen after I can see into the future. What I will do with the knowledge, I cannot say. But I have ideas that I hope will come to some form of fruition."
The next day, the Detective Pirates met back up in the cafeteria, surprised to find people still rioting. Crock made the comment that there was a plan to break out, but that he had not met with those planning it yet. They talked about what to do next, and agreed that if they came across anyone else who was planning to breakout, they would team up with them.
Gate and company were discussing what to do about the Seven Vanguards of Snyke's Penitentiary.
The first Vanguard was the one that defeated Salvador, Vanguard Festival. He used a light sword capable of taking different forms.
The second was Vanguard Wicket, who wielded a steel cricket bat. He had grey hair and wore a white suit.
Third came Vanguard Jumper, a short man in a red suit. His signature move was to jump and knee his opponent in the jaw while also kicking them in the stomach.
Fourth in line was Vanguard Arrows, a woman in a purple suit wielding a bow that could create its own light-based projectiles.
The fifth was Vanguard Morose, a woman in a yellow suit and pink hair who seemed to be able to will anyone nearby into a state of nausea.
Sixth was Vanguard Wildfire, a man in a blue flameproof suit, who juggled torches, and through his breath could easily spread the flames as if he were a dragon.
The seventh was Vanguard Tambourine, a relative unknown compared to the others. She wore an orange suit.
One thing that many prisoners had speculated, but never been able to prove, was that the Vanguards were former prisoners, now under some form of control. Certainly there was merit to the idea, if the names Festival, Wicket, Jumper, Arrows, Morose, Wildfire, or Tambourine were the surnames of previous inmates. No one person was ever that informed to know, and there was not enough communication to confirm the theory. However, some prisoners, confident in their ability to recognise who one or two of them might actually be, opted to view the Vanguards as being those people. To this end, Munge believed she knew the identities of Festival and Wicket, and Gate believed he knew the identity of Arrows.
While Gate and his allies continued to discuss what they knew of the Seven Vanguards, those same people held a meeting in the Staff Lounge Room.
"What do you think about Zephyr's plan?" asked Festival.
"We have our orders and we are obligated to fulfil them," said Wicket. "No use asking questions."
"Not to mention it is not our place to do so," said Arrows.
"You both raise excellent points," said Festival. "I just want to know that we're all on the same page."
Each of the other six Vanguards took turns affirming their commitment to the task at hand.
"Very well, meeting adjourned," said Festival.
The Vanguards left to take their positions in the prison, as per their instructions. Zephyr waited for Salvador to regain his full senses, as the latter drifted off to another time, one he had kept repressed for many years.