Juro grinned as chaos erupted. As more and more benders turned on their captors, the few guards that weren't unconscious, dead, or otherwise incapacitated made a run for it. Most didn't even make it to the door. A few moments later, things had calmed down. Calm, of course, being a relative term. The air was filled with emphatic conversation and the lingering smell of ozone.<br/><br/>He found himself in a knot of other plasma benders, sealing the guard's door, already barricaded by the metal benders. He wasn't sure how long it took, only that the door no longer looked anything like door. Juro stood, his ears finally registering the voice of a bender standing atop the remains of a table, calling the others to action.<br/><br/>The buzzer of the prison's intercom cut through the noise and the despicable voice began to speak, "Prisoners in Block 7, return to your ce-"<br/><br/>"To hell with this!" someone screamed, followed moments later by countless raw cries and raised fists.<span style="font-style: italic">Best not to be here when reinforcements come,</span>Juro thought. The others were likely to have the same idea, but it would take them far to long to leave for his tastes. After dusting off his clothes, he slipped through the crowd and out the unsealed door. There had been something off about the voice on the intercom. It sounded almost like fear.