The crunching of gravel and dirt were the only things that broke the tranquility of nature surrounding a lonely dirt road somewhere in the foothills of northern Georgia. The man causing this disturbance was no hunter, but a decently dressed man. Clarence Rhodes had to be somewhere. He'd been walking for weeks, choosing to do so over taking any kind of public transit. Considering where he was a few weeks prior, he did not want to risk doing so. He paid no mind to his surroundings, walking with a confidence he had never possessed. He didn't know exactly how, but he knew that Brienne was being kept somewhere in this direction. Perhaps it had something to do with how... different everything was.<br/><br/>Clancy woke up three weeks ago a changed man. The first thing that filled his mind as it crept out of it's coma was the fact that he felt different, strange, wrong. He didn't know it immediately, but once he was able to get a good look at himself later, his body was not the one he grew up with. Instead of a thin and wimpy young man, better suited to working on a computer than anything else, he laid there as a strapping young gentlemen, his body cleansed of imperfections he thought it had. After that was the subtle noise of rustling papers, as if someone was periodically turning one paper over before setting it back in it's original spot. The next was the blinding light of the bulbs above him, a failed attempt at looking for the source of the sound. Once his eyes adjusted to the new stimuli, Clancy risked a glance around, looking for the sound.<br/><br/>An overweight man in a security uniform eerily similar to that of a police officer's was thumbing through a magazine lazily, producing the sound. The man was apparently in no good mood, sitting there as he tried to find some article or picture that would keep him entertained for at least a little while. With apparently nothing to do, at the sound of rattling he had looked to Clancy, seeing the young man testing the leather straps and thin chains that kept him secured to the bed. Instead of doing as he should have, the ornery guard decided that Clancy was a perfect source of entertainment. Jabs and insults were thrown in Clancy's direction, but no reaction was earned. At least not externally.<br/><br/>Internally, Clancy found himself growing irrationally annoyed and even a little angry at the guard. But he knew that acting on it would get nothing but more jeers, or so he thought. Upon seeing that he was getting no response, the guard took it further, speaking an insult that showed Clancy just how much he had changed.<i> "You know, I heard that girl of your's was once a nice little thing. I wonder if I could take some vacation days and see if she's as breakable as she sounds."</i>the guard had said. Thus causing all hell to break loose.<br/><br/>He didn't know what was happening, but he would be damned if anyone would lay a finger on his Bri. Without even realizing it until he was off the bed, swinging his fist at the guard's face, Clancy snapped his binds as if they were twine. The single punch shattered the guard's jaw and sent him flying off to the side, slamming into the wall and coming to a stop next to the door. Without even giving it a second thought, Clancy bounded over to the man and kicked him hard in the gut.<br/><br/>What happened next was enough to give clarity through Clancy's abnormal and irrational rage. The guard hit the wall from the force of the kick and kept going. The wall shattered in the impact and the guard was deposited in the hall. The wall opposite the one he was just sent through even held cracks in the rough shape of the rotund man. There was a sudden silence from this act, as if noise that should have been happening outside the confines of the room stopped at this explosive entrance. Clancy walked forward, opening the door and stepping out into the hall to see just where he was. Prison.<br/><br/>A trio of guards down the hall looked to Clancy as they stepped into his view, stunned from the destruction. It wasn't until more guards came by, leading a group of prisoners that chaos ensued. At the sight of the downed guard, the other prisoners began to act. Like a chain reaction, there was a fight at one end of the hall and alarms began to blare throughout the institution. A riot began shortly after. And Clancy fought for his life. Guards fell to idle swings like paper in a storm. The more trusted or good natured prisoners attempted to stop Clancy as he lumbered through the halls, lost. They received similar fates as they laid on the floor battered and broken. It wasn't until he bumped into a prisoner with some modicum of power that things began to shift.<br/><br/>Clancy did not apologize to him, though normally he would have. There was more pressing concerns at the moment. However, the prisoner he bumped into felt more than a bump from Clancy's newfound strength. A sucker punch sent Clancy stumbling forward, now angry. More and more prisoners began to attack the dazed Clancy, just out of spite. And Clancy fought back. The bars of cells bent from some of the impact and the prisoners decided it was now time to use their weapons on this 'asshole.' More and more began to pile onto Clancy before he stopped moving, laying in a pool of blood.<br/><br/>He did not know how long it had been since he was shanked, but Clancy soon awoke to the sound of an igniter starting up. The new feelings attached with this wake up was one of torment and pain as he burned alive within the crematorium's incinerator. His screams were quickly silenced as his vocal cords fried from the heat and smoke. The pain was excruciating for a few moments, until numbness overwrote the pain and Clancy faded once more. The third time he woke up he was cold, laying in what he could only assume was a coffin. After a few test taps, Clancy used the strength he remembered he had and kicked out, ripping the door clean off of the morgue drawer he was shoved in. The mortician on duty simply turned pale as the body that would not burn crawled out of the drawer without so much as a scratch on him. This time, Clancy simply ran.<br/><br/>And nothing stopped him. Walls crumbled before him as he charged forward, crashing through until he was finally outside. The humidity in the air caused him to slow as he took in his surroundings. Gently rolling hills, towers, and -in the distance- a swamp told him exactly where he was. The only supermax prison he knew about that was located in such a place was Angola. He didn't want to wait any longer. Clancy had gotten it into his head that the death sentence for these parts was being burned alive. Thus, he began to sprint, willing to risk the swamp over another trip to an incinerator. He was nearly into the swamp when a shot rang out and Clancy's momentum slowed to a crawl. He turned as the adrenaline in his veins slowed, revealing pain underneath. As he fell to the ground, the last things he saw was an official looking man was hold a smoking rifle and dogs rapidly approach him before it all went black.<br/><br/>This time, Clancy woke in a jury rigged straight jacket on a cold slab of metal that barely passed for a table. He was certainly not in Angola anymore. The walls were wooden, as if made a century ago. The official looking man from before stood over him and explained that in all his years as warden, he had never seen anyone who wouldn't stay dead. He told Clancy that he'd be staying locked up here, out in the middle of the swamp, until he could 'get those suits on the horn' and ask them what the hell was going on. Clancy's mind suddenly reminded him of what started this whole mess. The attempted robbery at the lab. He knew he needed to get out of here. And he knew he needed to find Brienne. As the warden left, Clancy could see men fully suited in SWAT gear checking their weapons and waiting.<br/><br/>Clancy was in no mood to wait, but he did anyways. He wanted to make sure that only those inside of the building were the only ones he needed to worry about. After waiting a good thirty minutes after the sound of some vehicle leaving the area, Clancy acted. The straight jacket tore away from him with frightening ease and before long, the room was flooded with the same officers that he had saw outside. Except this time, something told Clancy to fight back. That is exactly what he did as his body seemed to obey the command before he even accepted it. What remaining clothing he had began to grow tight and tear as his muscles expanded. The unit did not want to wait what else this freak of nature could do and began to open fire. This time, however, the bullets bounced off of him.<br/><br/>Another fifteen minutes passed and the only person left standing in the ruins of this stilt house was Clancy. Bodies were everywhere. A part of Clancy wondered if any of them had stopped breathing. But Clancy had little time. He didn't know if any of them had called in his attempt. So Clancy raced through the building, trying to find any clothes he could wear. It wasn't until he stepped outside that he realized his body had turned to normal once more. Rolling up his sleeves and his pant legs, Clancy waded into the water of the swamp and tried to collect those he had hit through the floor, at least moving them to what was left of the porch for safety. And then he ran.<br/><br/>His first stop was miles away from the prison. It was late and his stomach protested against him. He was ragged, dirty, and hungry. The light of a house drew him off of the road. The middle aged couple inside took him in as he collapsed on their porch, cleaning him up enough to sit him at the table and put food in front of him. About halfway through, a knock came on the door. Police officers were making rounds to warn people of a very dangerous escaped inmate in the area. Clancy had no idea that this was happening until the husband led the pair around the corner into the kitchen, guns drawn on Clancy.<br/><br/>But at this point, Clancy didn't care. He knew what would happen if they shot and simply kept eating his food. He was desensitized to it all. But his meal was interrupted when one of them moved to cuff Clancy. The moment Clancy put down his fork to get a drink of the water provided, an officer grabbed hold. Unfortunately, Clancy assumed something like that would happen. Giving the man a backhanded punch to the gut, he sent him flying through the thin walls to bounce along the ground outside. The other officer, scared out of his mind opened fire, shattering the glass in Clancy's hand. Clancy stood and marched over to the officer and reared his head back, bringing it down on the man with a powerful headbutt. The man crumpled immediately to the ground and Clancy returned to his meal.<br/><br/>The couple were smart enough to know better than to try to take the matter into his own hands. And, when Clancy asked for a shower and clothes, they 'happily' provided to the freak of nature. He was given a clean suit, apparently one that belonged to their son before he went off and perished in a 'war'. Clancy nearly forgot that their kindness was out of fear and thus decided to ensure he could get a good night's sleep. Walking to the man, Clancy made sure to hold back enough not to seriously hurt or even kill the man and flicked him on the forehead. The man staggered back as if punched before he fell to the floor unconscious. Taking the woman, he had her lead him to some rope and before long, both of them were messily but thoroughly tied to a pair of chairs in the kitchen. With this problem solved, Clancy showered peacefully and soon fell asleep in their son's room.<br/><br/>The next day, Clancy set out on his journey. Something was calling to him, urging him towards Springer Mountain in Georgia. And thus he walked. Taking backroads when possible, avoiding traffic until he was well out of Louisiana and halfway through Mississippi, and exploiting the kindness of rural homeowners, Clancy walked. That was two and a half weeks ago. Clancy had found himself on a peaceful little road in dire need of new asphalt or even some more gravel somewhere in the foothills of northern Georgia. Luckily, the crunching was soon over, as he approached a proper road. He needed a break. The midday sun had come and gone and thoroughly tired out the man. He needed to sit but he didn't want to ruin the only clothes he had. Thus, he backtracked a bit, working his way to this one particular rock he had saw on the side of the road about a mile back. Clancy promptly sat and relaxed, looking at a watch he 'borrowed' from one of the previous farmhouses he had stayed in.<br/><br/>Perhaps he could make it to another house in the next few hours. He nearly learned the hard way of showing up at someone's house in the middle of the night back in Mississippi, and thus he had began to try to find a place before it got too dark out. At this point, Clancy was beginning to worry. He hadn't ever heard of a jail out in these parts. And with all that had been happening to him, he was worried that Brienne had something similar happen to her. His mind began to fill itself with thoughts of some secret lab, where his darling Bri was being experimented on and tortured solely because of his fuck up. Sorrow and anger equally began to fill him at this thought and soon, he was lost in his own world, oblivious to the sounds around him.