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Raul didn't stop to take stock of the damage. Instead, he scrambled faster and then did something drastic in order to conceal his mistake.

He slapped his hand down on the floor and turned it into an almost frictionless plane. Everywhere within the bottom layer of the cell block--save right beneath himself--became more slippery than an ice rink.

Immediately, guards started toppling all around him, falling over themselves and each other, creating utter chaos out of an already hectic circumstance.

It definitely got the job done, though. Everyone was sufficiently distracted.

He took the opportunity find an isolated corner and, again using his ability, skitter straight up the wall.

This trick was always hell on his palms. The increased friction may have provided sticking power, but it did nothing to counterbalance the weight of his entire body yanking against his skin. Plus, he had to alternate the friction on and off quickly, else he'd either get stuck in place or start to fall.

Thankfully, he'd thought to wear gloves, which made the trick slightly more difficult but also painless. An entirely worthwhile trade off.

He scurried up on to the row of reaper cells and then perched there. The view was quite good of the mayhem he'd just created. It was like a scene out of a silent comedy, dozens of men bumbling into one another, struggling to find their footing and repeatedly being unable to.

The guards who were higher up in the block quickly took notice, but they didn't seem to know what was happening or what to do about it.

Raul couldn't help feeling quite pleased with his work, but he needed to keep moving while the distraction was still working. He saw a line up to the next row and decided to go for it.

'Status, Raul,' came Arumoro's voice.

'Still fine,' he said.

The reaper probably wanted to say more but didn't.

The distraction below was working wonders now. He considered doing it again on the second and third rows as he passed them, but his instinct was telling him that it would give his position away. He couldn't tell where Vanderberk was, but he had a feeling that the man had gone invisible again.

He reached the fourth row, and it seemed like his head was finally working right. He could see an exit. It wasn't far. He could reach it. And he was actually heading toward it, this time, instead of going in the wrong direction. That was certainly an improvement.