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Technically, it wasn't breaking out. Miguel was still on the actual grounds of the Foundation, even if he had poofed out of his lovely, cozy room, that was definitely not a prison, and left confused guards in his wake.
He materializes next to one of the senior director of the facility, Dr. Gears, in a cloud of dark, billowing smoke. Dr. Gears, waiting just outside the entrance to the facility, can only manage to roll his eyes at Miguel's infinite antics. Sure, he could tell Miguel the usual spiel about not escaping, but he was an ancient and eldritch being of unquantifiable strength and power. If the man wanted out, he got out.
"¿Qué es eso?" Miguel asks with cool intrigue, folding his arms across his broad chest as he observes casually. "Fresh meat, doc?"
Just outside the concrete and barbed wire of the facility, Miguel senses the approaching presence of fresh, new blood that had yet to grace their little slice of hell before. Though he could not yet see them, he can hear the pounding of their heart, feel each neuron fire in their brain, each muscle in their body twitch and contract.
The director just sighs in exasperation, "Play nice. The last person whose head you meddled with tore off their own eyelids."
Miguel just hums, one eyebrow arched as he considered if it's even worth it to be interested. In a puff of black smoke, Miguel dissipated, off to God knows where, leaving only lingering wisps of his presence.
And through the barbed wire fence, the newest addition to Site 19 arrives.
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