DC: Rise of the Kryptonian Tyrant

Central City.

Iron Heights Penitentiary.

Unlike other inmates, Leonard Snart had broken out of prison several times, only to be captured and taken down by The Flash each time. Because of that, he was "honored" with zero privileges and confined to a special cell within Iron Heights.

His prison space was unique. The cell walls were constructed from superconductor materials designed specifically to contain metahuman criminals. While Snart had no actual superpowers, his repeated prison breaks and high-risk behavior had led to a sentence of 130 years. Only this specially designed cell could hold him.

Nearby, other superpowered criminals from Central City were held as well. Every one of them had been captured by The Flash.

Most had used their powers to rob banks or commit other crimes—not trying to destroy the world, just wanting a better life. And yet, they'd all ended up here.

"Just robbed a damn bank. Wanted a bit of cash, maybe make life a little easier. Didn't try to end the world. And this is what we get. What the hell?"

Through the transparent superconducting glass, Bardi observed all the metahuman inmates, most of them lifeless and bored.

Heat Wave.

Weather Wizard.

Mirror Master.

Trickster.

Captain Boomerang.

The Top.

He had dealt with all of them before. Of course, "dealt with" often meant shouting matches and scuffles—especially with Heat Wave, with whom he had a long-standing mutual dislike.

Bardi's gaze swept over these villains one by one. Some were unfamiliar, likely new additions arrested during his absence. Their records of infamy—mostly involving a string of robberies and inevitable arrests by The Flash—meant nothing to him now. It was no surprise they didn't know him either.

As his eyes passed over the various criminals, some glared defiantly, as though their stares alone could intimidate him, even in this maximum-security metahuman wing.

But the superconducting glass blocked all sound. No one could speak here.

"Time to eat."

A loudspeaker crackled from a corner of the prison wing.

Moments later, food trays were delivered through a pipeline system built into multiple levels. A mechanical crawler deposited meals into the cells.

Stewed potatoes, greens, steamed buns, and a large orange. Not bad.

The previously listless inmates stirred from their beds, roused by the arrival of food, and began eating in silence.

Bardi picked up his tray and sat cross-legged on his bed, observing the surveillance camera rotation as he ate.

The steamed bun was dry and tasteless.

But he would need energy for what came next.

He finished the bun, ate the orange, and tossed the peel back onto the tray. Then he placed the tray on the return track to be retrieved automatically.

Knock knock…

As the security camera rotated away from his cell, Bardi banged on the superconducting glass twice, loud enough to draw the attention of the bored inmates in neighboring cells.

Though no sound came through, his exaggerated movements clearly aimed to get their attention.

Heat Wave: "Idiot."

Captain Boomerang: "???"

Trickster: Raised an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. Snart was a known escape artist, after all. If he was up to something, it was worth watching.

Weather Wizard: "What the hell...?"

As the camera rotated back to face him, Bardi calmly returned to stillness.

Then, as the camera turned away again, he subtly used his body to block the lens, leaned down, and exhaled white mist onto the glass wall.

With a finger, he scrawled backward letters onto the fogged surface: "PRISON ESCAPE."

Just before the camera returned, he wiped the words away casually.

The other inmates who had been watching caught the message.

They exchanged shocked glances.

Snart had been sent to a supermax unit because no ordinary prison could hold him.

And no one had ever escaped from this particular high-security metahuman wing.

This prison was purpose-built to hold people like them. It was flawless. Escape was considered impossible.

"Okay, Snart's cooking up something again."

"I'm in, in spirit."

"What's the plan?"

"Count me in."

The once-defeated inmates were reinvigorated. If there was a chance at escape, they wanted in.

Freedom meant money, luxury, and pleasure. No one wanted to rot away in Iron Heights. Even people more privileged than them would find this place unbearable.

They couldn't stay here forever. If Snart had a way out, they were ready.

Eyes bright with tension and hope, adrenaline surged.

Jailbreak. This was their chance.

But then—

The anticipated breakout did not occur.

Instead, Snart suddenly collapsed to the floor, convulsing violently.

He twitched like a man having a seizure, eyes rolling back, frothing at the mouth.

Was this...

A fake illness? To get transferred to a medical ward?

Or maybe to notify his family and request medical parole?

He didn't waste time. He even added foam for effect?

...

Monitoring Room.

Every supermax wing had advanced vitals monitoring equipment. In the control room, the prisoners' health could be monitored in real time.

There had been cases of metahumans faking illness to escape before, but they had been detected and moved to deeper isolation under tighter watch.

The alarm blared.

"Director! The vitals monitor in Supercell R15 shows the prisoner collapsed on the ground. Limbs twitching, eyes rolled back, foam at the mouth. Suspected seizure!"

The prison guard watching the feed reported urgently.

Across from him, the bloated prison superintendent with a slightly distended belly frowned.

Epilepsy wasn't necessarily fatal, but if not treated in time, it could become life-threatening. Still, the odds were slim.

But if it was another escape attempt, it would become a huge problem.

And he would be held responsible.

The director sneered, "He's faking it to break out. Keep watching him."

"Sir, I don't think it's fake. The seizure has lasted over three minutes. His vital signs are dropping. Sir, the inmate... his vitals are rapidly deteriorating."

"Sir, his vitals are… vanishing…"

The guard's voice trembled. It really looked like he was dying.

The superintendent stared at the screen. Snart's body twitched erratically. Even if he were faking it, this was too convincing. The foam. The convulsions. His eyes completely white. It all looked real.

The warden's plump face twisted in frustration. He gritted his teeth.

"Damn it! Trouble again!"

"Send a medical team! Bring armed guards! Prepare for a possible escape attempt! Open the supercell. Give him emergency treatment!"

(To be continued.)