[ WP ] A low level henchman is accidentally sent to the most dangerous super criminal prison in the world . His only chance to survive is to start his own gang .

`` You're kinda short for a dragon-class.'' 
 
 Mark Paine stood a good three feet underneath Strongarm. It had taken a demigod-class hero to put Strongarm behind bars. It had taken a sidekick to do the same to Paine. Paine did n't have an intimidating moniker like Strongarm did, and he did n't have the bulk or the infamy, either. To some extent, he preferred it that way... but in a place like Colossus Penitentiary, anonymity meant `` henchman.'' Or `` punching bag.'' He was used to `` punching bag.'' Maybe that could be his stupidvillain name. 
 
 Under normal circumstances, he'd ignore the brute and walk away, but this was n't normal. He'd walked into the commons of Colossus Block Alpha - the highest security prison block in the world. The walls were laced with a three-foot layer of carbon nanotubes to keep metal-kinetic powers at bay. Outside that was a nice thick layer of poison gas and ten feet of solid steel. Outside that was a force of 10 constantly-changing heroes who treated guard duty as a sort of vacation compared to normal patrols. Food was delivered through tiny, electrified shaftways, and piping for water was small and heavily grated with razor-sharp titanium. There was one phone in the block, but it was n't connected to a network that reached outside the prison walls. Contact with guards or anyone from the outside world was minimal. 
 
 Contact with other prisoners... was deadly. Other villains circled the two like sharks in the large commons. Paine had been in prison three times before. Each time, the prisoners liked to get a look at the fresh meat. They prodded him to see how far he'd bend before he broke. If Paine walked away, the wolves would take it as a sign of weakness. And in this crowd... he would n't get kneecapped. This crowd could be far more creative with their weapons of choice. 
 
 `` You look pretty like a girl,'' Strongarm sneered. He had to bend over to get in Paine's face. Paine could smell the garlic on his breath. `` I like that.'' 
 
 Paine's jaw set. 
 
 He jammed his fist and all of his weight into Strongarm's crotch. 
 
 Paine did n't have super strength or super speed or anything that would normally allow him to topple a man Strongarm's size with pure force. That, however, was a sucker punch. It did n't matter how enormous the man was - Paine was trained in hand-to-hand. What he lacked in useful powers, he made up for in training. 
 
 And at dragon-class? Training was something a lot of these mustache-twisters skipped. The classification system only rated the strength of a superpower - not how good someone was at using it. 
 
 Paine's fist hit hard, and knocked Strongarm's voice from him. He reached forward again, but this time it was a grab, right in the weak spot. He twisted. Strongarm squealed like a stuck pig and writhed to the floor as Paine dragged him down. 
 
 And then Paine backed the hell up. He hopped backwards a good five feet, just as Strongarm kicked around and started thrashing. The errant swing of one ankle broke one of the steel cafeteria chairs nearby, flattening it completely on accident. 
 
 `` And you SOUND like a girl,'' Paine spat, between Strongarm's painful screeching. 
 
 The demeanor of the wolves changed. Instead of crouching in play, they straightened their backs and stoned their faces. Some prisoners feigned a loss of interest, while others gained a darker shadow over their eyes as they glared. Some looked mildly entertained, and a few, though they kept their faces flat, shot him sparkling, excited looks. Those would be the villains who wanted to recruit him. 
 
 That would be the safest route. Find a stronger villain. Join their group. Enjoy their protection. The sucker punch bought him a little respect, but it did n't buy him fear. It would n't last long. 
 
 Quite honestly, a stronger villain's `` protection'' was n't worth much, either. He'd done the henchman stint. The first time he'd been sent to prison, it was because he'd made a mistake. The second two times, he turned himself in; returning to his `` master'' was a worse alternative. This latest time, he'd been working solo, and he'd specifically requested to come here, to the prison where the demigod-class villain was held who struck fear into the hearts of spandexed paragons. 
 
 -- - 
 
 `` The Overlord may take an interest in you.'' 
 
 Lunchtime. Paine sat across from the Hypnotist, so named for his powers of mind control. The Hypnotist was one of the reasons the prisoners got zero contact with the outside world. He was good. Still, every hero and villain had an Achilles Heel, and the Hypnotist's was especially...'' glaring.'' 
 
 Paine closed his eyes, and stuffed some more bland oatmeal into his mouth blindly. He heard a note of irritation scathe the Hypnotist's voice, and stifled a smug twist of his lips. 
 
 `` It's rude not to look at the person talking to you.'' 
 
 `` It's rude to hypnotize dinner guests.'' 
 
 `` Dammit,'' the Hypnotist growled. `` Who told you - `` 
 
 `` Everybody knows your weakness,'' Paine interrupted him. `` Even redshirts. Since you got locked up, it's been on every channel from Hong Kong to LA.'' 
 
 The Hypnotist made a frustrated noise, and Paine listened. Taking advantage of the Hypnotist's weakness also put him at a severe disadvantage to other villains... but he heard no one approach. Instakill, the super speedster, was on the other side of the room, and preoccupied; his voice was unmistakable. The other quiet one, Snake Eyes, was hissing over his meal nearby. Unless the Overlord himself appeared, he was probably alright... for now. 
 
 Three days. Still no sign of the Overlord. 
 
 `` I do n't recognize you,'' the Hypnotist mentioned. `` What do people call you?'' 
 
 `` Mark Paine.'' 
 
 `` No... I meant your moniker. The Hypnotist. Jeeper Creeper. Silky Fox.'' 
 
 `` Do n't have one.'' 
 
 ``... What do you mean, you do n't have one?'' 
 
 Paine stayed quiet for a second, chewing. Rubbery oatmeal... better than how his oatmeal usually turned out, he supposed. His was richer in charcoal. ``... Nobody calls anyone by their name around here,'' he noted, dodging the question. 
 
 `` Your name is your infamy. Your power. It's as important as the cowl.'' 
 
 `` Never had one of those, either,'' Paine admitted. 
 
 He could n't see the man, but Paine felt Hypnotist staring at him, and heard it in his voice. ``... You ca n't be telling me... you're a normal criminal?'' 
 
 `` I have powers,'' he half-lied. He definitely did, but they were n't exactly something he wanted to advertise to a group that would take great pleasure in ripping his guts out - especially not a dragon-class group. His powers were ten ranks below that, at best. Maybe if there was a `` fluffy bunny'' classification.... `` I just look terrible in spandex.'' 
 
 The Hypnotist scoffed. `` The Overlord is very interested in learning about your powers,'' he repeated himself. 
 
 Paine recognized this for what it was. He was being recruited. Fine... he'd play along. `` Rumor has it the Overlord LOST his powers,'' he said. `` When he was sent to prison. What can he do?'' 
 
 Paine heard the Hypnotist laugh again. He must have practiced that theatrical villain laugh. It was so cliche it almost sounded natural. `` You should n't believe everything you hear. The Overlord is still a demigod-class super. High-precision telekinesis, super strength, super speed, flexibility, pyrokinesis... it's easier to name powers he does n't have. That is why they call him The Overlord.'' 
 
 Everything Paine had heard was true, then. The Overlord was untouchable... 
 
... Or at least... the rabble believed he was. There had to be some reason he was rotting in a prison cell instead of terrorizing the globe. Paine chugged his drink down - one of those little milk cartons that he used to get in public school - to finish the conversation quickly. 
 
 `` He'd be interested in meeting you.'' 
 
 `` Everyone gets this speech, do n't they?'' Paine asked. He opened his eyes a bit, but kept his lids heavy and stared down at his tray to stack it. `` How many boys here answer to the Overlord?'' 
 
 `` Most of them,'' the Hypnotist answered. `` You'd be in good hands.'' 
 
 Paine shook his head. If that was true, it meant there WAS no protection. For that to happen, there needed to be two groups or more. Otherwise, it was just a hierarchy. Hypnotist was somewhere near the top, because as weak as his powers were, he was a well-known genius. Strongarm was a small-time leader of a specific group under the Overlord's dark umbrella. Paine knew exactly where he'd fall in that mess. Rock bottom was n't a place he wanted to be. 
 
 ``... Thanks for the offer... but I answer to no one,'' Paine told him. 
 
 He did n't chance looking at the Hypnotist's face, but he saw the muscles in his long-fingered, older hands tighten. `` I'd reconsider, if I were you,'' he said softly. 
 
 `` You're not me,'' Paine spat. He got up, and tossed his tray down a chute. Conversation over. 
 
 Besides the protection issue, there was a reason Paine was there. The Overlord was untouchable... outside prison. Inside the walls, though, he was only a demigod. It did n't matter to Paine what The Overlord had in store for him, anyway. Even a god could n't break him. He had no reason to be afraid... and nothing to lose. He'd just heal anyway, no matter the damage to his body. But that power was really just a bonus. 
 
 Mark Paine had never felt pain in all his life. Demigod or no.... 
 
 He would always be the last man standing.
