<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/tUYqW.jpg?1)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong><strong>Mara Vida</strong><br/><strong>Age:</strong>26<br/><strong>Crime:</strong>Sawed a woman in half onstage during a magic show (literally)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Prison cell next to group 1<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>All of Group 1<br/><hr/><br/>Well, she'd cocked that up.<br/><br/>Unsure exactly what to do with Mara after her arrest, and not deeming her dangerous enough to go in one of the high-security cells that had been rapidly filling up with no explanations in sight, the guards had placed her in a lower-tech one. Of course, she knew she belonged in a high-security cell - all her horrified remorse and choking sobs had been her most masterful performance yet, and that combined with her excellent lawyer was able to secure her place in somewhere a bit more lax.<em>Be a good thing,</em>she'd told herself,<em>don't break out of here. Whatever you do, don't break out. If you stay in here, you'll get to talk to the police and tell them that you didn't <strong>really</strong> mean to bisect a woman, no, and that you didn't stop until the buzzsaw was midway through her torso because you were just surprised. They'll listen.</em><br/><br/>Five minutes later she'd thought of an escape route and waited patiently for her opportunity to try it out, which didn't take long. After a week of courteousness, good behavior, and acting completely trustworthy to the guards, they'd given her a few more privileges than some of the other prisoners, including a part-time job working in the kitchens after her claim that she loved to cook (she didn't). On her lunch break, she smuggled a can opener into the restroom and cut through the ceiling, hauling herself into the roof and crawling along until she found a way out, running for the hills. Mara had been free for about a week, laying low and trying to stay out of sight. Until today – it was bad luck that did her in. Picking up groceries at a convenience store, she looked up at the clerk and recognized him immediately. Her former manager, the man who handled all of her stage performances and bookings. The expression on his face was a mix of shock and fear, and she knew her freedom had been short-lived.<br/><br/>"Oh," was all she said before he pushed the alarm under the counter and she was promptly tackled by an officer on his dinner break.<br/><br/>And now she was being dragged down a hallway by her arms, the scrawny tomboy fighting back against the guards for everything she was worth. The thought of being locked up again was too much for her to bear, and she kicked and screamed as she was unceremoniously thrown into a high-security cell. "Try getting out of here, Houdini," one of the guards scoffed as he shut the door and the two men left her.<em>Fuck!</em>Mara immediately began examining every inch of her cell. There had to be some way to get out. She didn't have anything on her aside from the clothes on her back - a white tanktop and a pair of black jeans. They'd taken her coat, and replaced her sneakers with laceless shoes. Smart thing, too, as those laces would have been damn useful.<br/><br/>Noticing that she was next to a group of other people, she looked at them curiously, the normally charming illusionist unsure of what to say for once. Finally she settled on a timid, "Hello." Her voice was accented, an unusual hybrid of New England and the United Kingdom.