ArchivedLogs:The Assault (Pt. 1)

The Assault (Pt. 1)
Dramatis Personae Malthus, Tatters, Nox
In Absentia	2013-07-24 A WILD TATTERS APPROACHES.
Location <MOR> Welcome to the Freakshow
Wider and more spacious than many of the surrounding nooks and niches, this chill cavern is the central hub of the Morlock's underground network. With tunnels branching off in many directions, it takes a while to learn to /navigate/ from here to where you want to go, but there's generally plenty of more experienced people around to teach newcomers the ins and outs of the pathways. Here, though, is a safe place to come and relax, for what value of relaxation can be found among moss-covered walls and the occasional stagnant puddles on the floor. There's been furniture brought in, a mismatched assortment of crates, mattresses with busted springs, a few broken and subsequently repaired chairs, a folding table in a corner. Shelves along a wall hold entertainment; books, a smattering of board and card games, sometimes snacks. There's even electricity, wiring none too safe and visible in places where the wall has been broken open; the naked light bulbs flicker often and the lone outlet has had so many power strips attached it is undoubtedly a fire hazard. Mid-evening. There is still a wealth of sunlight above-ground; below ground, someone's bringing their own. There are suddenly men in Nox's tunnels. Men, alongside with /buzzy/ things. Though they do not tread within the heart of the Morlock enclosure, they sweep down some of the tunnels along the edges -- marching silently, weapons in hand, eyes narrowed in focus. This may not be the first thing she notices, however. The first thing may, in fact, be the gentle stirring of music; a delicate arrangement of mechanical notes, one playing out after the other in what /could/ be a familiar melody. The mechanized music is being /piped/ through tunnels -- carried throughout the sewers, in fact! -- by a quicky set up audio system that manages to create sound without overbaring volume. Should someone follow this sound to its source, they would soon find it emerges from a circular room, 20 yards in diameter, with seven different tunnels extending out of it in a variety of directions, like a spikey, misaligned star. At the center of this room is a crude, simple table -- two chairs, one occupied (we'll get to that one in a minute). And on top of the table is -- a music box, with a microphone placed beside it. The music box is a very pretty (albeit ordinary!) one. A delicate ice-dancer -- crafted from pale porcelain, painted in delicate pastels -- spins at the center, suspended on a gleaming silver, reflective platter via magnets. She has the appearance of a ballet dancer, her eyes closed, her hands posed high above her -- rolling in a constant, ceaseless pirouette. The chair in front of this music box is empty; the chair behind it -- occupied. By one Malthus Rogers. A crudely scarred man with a face that is strangely serene, even in the overwhelming darkness that cloaks the room. He sits, calmly, fingers steepled out in front of him atop the table -- legs crossed in a gesture that borders on the feminine. Waiting. Patiently. The room itself is bathed in every manner of thermal sensory equipment imaginable -- but very little light. Malthus desires to make this /comfortable/ for Nox, after all. Footsteps echo through the tunnels as they approach the chamber, their stride even and measured. This may be odd, since this chamber was not prepared for someone who makes footsteps. Still, an oddly shaped figure approaches down one of the approaching tunnels, orangy silhouette difficult discern beneath the infrared cameras. The footsteps stop when they reach the entrance to the chamber, and a gravely -- yet distinctly feminine -- voice rings out in admonishment. "Dude, I know these tunnels seem like a magnet for inexplicable sinister bullcrap, but can you please piss off? Some of us have things to do." There's a pause, the interloper's breathing loud in the darkness. "...please?" The tromp of booted feet through her tunnels, through her /shadows/, is cause for alarm. For /the/ alarm. It rings out like whale song, a vibrato keen that travels through every patch of darkness filling the sewers occupied by its resident shadow monster. It rises up around the alien men. It rings through the nooks and crannies. It sends rats and cockroaches skittering. And then? Then it cuts off without warning, to be replaced with the softest of whispers: "Mama?" It has been reported that Nox has been broken. That whisper would serve to confirm the rumor. It takes the woman time to regather all of those distant tendrils, to abandon her post and collect herself into a neater, faster package. Even so, only a moment after Tatters' has shown herself to have learned some manners on her questing progress, the shadows behind the young woman clump up unnaturally, and feelers slide past her to infiltrate the dark room. In the Knight's ear, a comment: "...he has my music box. How does he have my music box?" "--mmn." Malthus' response to Tatters' voice is guarded; cautious; but rather than tense, he seems to only lean further back into his chair. Raising a hand to press against the side of his ear, speaking, as if to someone else: "--yes. Take them out." Before -- his attention shifts to the faint shape at one of the tunnels: "Ah," he begins, "I beg your pardon, ma'am." A hand raises, gesturing -- behind him. "Despite the unusual appearance, we are carrying out a lawful investigation, and I must request you immediately -- oh," Malthus stops, interrupting himself -- at the sound of that /other/ voice. "Audrey." Malthus' voice is extraordinarily gentle; soft, perhaps even warm. /Almost/. "My name is Malthus Rogers. Your parents sent me. To bring you back home." Two men step out of the tunnels behind Malthus; both are dressed in sleek black armor -- their faces obscured beneath their armored helms and dark-vision goggles. Both are holding assault rifles, currently pointed at the ground. Ten yards back. Watching Tatters, but also Nox. As the familiar voice whispers in Tatters' ear, her face...well, it hardens. It's hard to tell, but her voice is suddenly much less amused. "...because it's a trap, is why. Nox, please head back and let the others know we have armed men in our tunnels." The figure doesn't move, but under the cameras it's clear she's holding something. Two somethings, one of them long, one of them larger and round. "Please, before he turns on the spotlights." Raising her eyes back to stare at the man, barely paying any mind to his backup -- can Tatters see in the dark now? Apparently -- her voice raises once again. "You're carrying out some bullshit, is what you're doing. I'll ask you once more: please go away." The dark room hums when Malthus speaks her birth name. That humming only deepens, shaking the air surrounding each person present when he goes on to speak about her parents. But it is Tatters' voice that truly reaches Nox. Nox, not Audrey. Years of habit sees her initially withdrawing the feelers from the room--long after they've curled around Malthus' accompanying soldiers to get a read on them--and replacing them with tendrils reaching into the deeper portions of the sewers. Portions where the Morlocks dwell. The alarm begins again, whale song drifting through tunnels with the message: "Armed men. Here. Soldiers. Here." But. Habit isn't enough to send the shadow lady fleeing entirely. She might linger well behind in the tunnel but she doesn't desert the Knight entirely. Instead, a wisp remains beside the other woman. With intel. "Two. Rifles. Behind him." "...mmnh." There is a /faint/ ripple of annoyance on Malthus' face -- both at Tatters' words and at Nox's silent response to them. A faint wisp of coldness extending on the thermals, perhaps? A voice in his ear keeps him updated. But then: "I apologize -- it would have been my preference to do this as painlessly as possible," Malthus announces. Before: "Lights." And then, lo; there are /lights/. But not spotlights -- oh no. That would be too easy. These are LED lights -- and they do not flood the central room. Instead, they flood the seven tunnels that lead /into/ the central room, long strips of overpowering illumination attached to the walls -- glowing with a ferocity so bright they banish all but the hardest-to-find shadows. The central room itself is illuminated an instant later -- the glow far more subtle, less /penetrating/, but still distinct -- a set of filtered LEDs overhead. Adjustable on demand. Malthus is standing, now; his hand extends out to the music box -- closing it with a click. The two men with assault rifles step forward, their faces obscured beneath the metal masks -- weapons pointed at Tatters. "Hands on your head. On your knees. Or," Malthus states, voice level and calm, "we /will/ kill you." By Malthus' tone, either possibility is perfectly fine by him. The light illuminates a four-armed woman, covered in armored scales, with a short pollaxe in one hand and a heavy round shield in the opposite. She doesn't flinch as the lights go on, her eye sockets spasming as her irises contract abruptly, some shifting seeming to go on behind the scenes in one of them. Eyes are complicated, guys. With a shrug she alters her stance, standing at the ready with her shield held up before her, hammer behind, spare arms out to the sides. She doesn't advance or retreat, but does nod her head towards her opponent's support and offer a friendly entreaty, responding not at all to Malthus's dire ultimatum. "In the interest of fairness, you two DO realize that you're the faceless expendible goons, right? I'll try to be gentle but can't promise this will end well for you." The burst of light does more to Nox than just affect her irises. It slams her out of shadow form completely, driving her to her knees behind Tatters as the darkness evaporates. With it go her hair, and anything resembling clothing. There's precious little cover the other Morlock can provide, given the angle of light all around them, but the darker woman scrambles towards those slivers of shadow beneath Tatters' feet. Barely there, but they're enough to keep the pain at bay, when she crawls near enough to touch the gloom with shaking fingertips. "...//don't//..." To Malthus? Tatters? The goons? She's shielding her face, turning it into her shoulder, so it's impossible to say. The goonsquad is stepping to either side of Malthus, now -- who is, with infinite care, lifting and placing the music box inside of the armored briefcase he brought it in. As Nox falls to her knees, whimpering, Malthus lifts a hand -- pressing it to his ears: "Down. Two notches." And suddenly the whimpering woman finds the light that so painfully scorches the space around her descending -- slightly! But noticeably! -- as the central room grows dimmer, the tunnels themselves remaining scorching bright. And then... The men open fire. 7 or 8 yards back; the assault rifles sprout hot white blossoms of flame from their muzzles as they release quick, concentrated sprays -- targeting Tatters' chest and face. BADDA-BOOM. BADDA-BOOM. Stepping back even as they do. Malthus, meanwhile, is still securing the briefcase with the music box -- even as he reaches into his long, black coat. Withdrawing a curious-looking air-based injector, already loaded with three ampules of... something. Tatters stands her ground for one thunderous moment as she weathers the barrage of gunfire, the racket deafening in the closed chamber as bullets splinter into the shield held before her center of mass. It's hard to tell if they're accomplishing anything, given the shield in the way, though Tatters isn't falling over, at least. Buuuuut this can't last, so with a sweeping motion the knight drops to a knee and scoops up Nox's body in her spare arms. And then she shifts in some kind of complicated body-reversing about-face that's probably a bit queasifying to look at and starts sprinting off down the hallway, Nox held protectively to her chest and her shoulder joint reversed to hold her battered, increasingly shredded shield protectively behind her. Bullets spray after Tatters' retreating form. The men -- who had previously been backing off -- are now moving forward. But neither of them break out into a /run/. They are, in fact -- perhaps surprisingly! -- making no real attempt to pursue; instead, they just aim for the back of Tatters' legs -- attempting to help Tatters retire from her sojourn as an adventure and take up a fruitful career on permanent guard duty. Malthus, meanwhile, lifts the air-injector to his neck. *SSSST*. Three full ampules disappear under his skin instantly; his body shudders, his head rolling back with a *crkt* of his neck, before: "Turn on all lights. Flood the surrounding tunnels. Keep me updated on their position. In pursuit." And suddenly -- Malthus is pursuing. At a rate that a human has /no/ business moving -- indeed, when Malthus starts forward, he is /hurling/ himself down that tunnel with downright /superhuman/ speed. Charging like a bull, his single eye narrowed. The two soldiers stop firing as he swoops past in a dark, murderous blur. Tatters barely notices Nox slipping up into her biz, her body-sense generally focused on knitting together all those bullet wounds -- less bad than they could be on account of all that armor, but still, that needs a bit of sorting out. Instead, she just -- okay so she doesn't grin either because her face isn't currently really made for that, but she grins *inwardly,* and it's what's inside that counts. (For those keeping score, what is inside is currently smiles and a lot of bullets.) Still, the dude sprinting towards her isn't something she expects, so she's still kind of twisted around when he gets there. And Nox, poor Nox, discovers herself to be /useless/ as the tunnels flare to life with everything she /hates/ about the upstairs world. Surely she's taking damage too, curled around the knight as she is, but she makes nary a peep. Just burrows deeper, providing /some/ help by plastering herself over each bullet hold to keep what comes spraying out of it on the inside. You know, with the smiles. Meanwhile, Tatters has managed to draw aggro. Inc Malthus. Mid-run, the one-eyed man's arm has extended; sheathed in a leather bracer that extends from wrist (where straps twine about his leather glove, locking it across the palm and looping through the fingers -- a strap of kevlar guarding his knuckles) to just past the elbow, there is -- locked upon the length of his arm -- a length of unusual, folded /metal/, colored a crisp, dark black. With a twist of Malthus' wrist, this metal proceeds to roll and unfold outward -- a steady series of clicks as it exposes itself to be multiple sheets of a kevlar-plated high-density polymer designed to fold outward like a fan... Forming a /very/ large, very black circular arm-mounted shield. Which Malthus is now bringing to bare down on Tatters' back as he closes down on Tatters -- intent on smashing her with all the force of an incoming truck. Shield-first, right to the chest. Tatters is hit while she's discombobulated, but *does* have a convenient shield in that direction; the blocking is awkward on account of her backwards arm, but her splintered wooden shield intercepts the blow, and then she's spinning around, feet shifting beneath her as her hammer whips around towards her assailant, her body a weirdly-jointed whirlwind of arms and weaponry. Ideally, she'd have some snark available, but she's currently a little busy. It's a shame but Nox has never had her talent for quips. Two dark eyes peer above the edge of Tatters' tank top, wide and startled to find Malthus /there/. Reflexively, a dark tentacle lashes out towards his face to find him so close--only to phase out into a useless haze once the tunnel lights take it. "Nngh." Malthus grunts, sharp and sudden, at the impact of his shield with Tatters'; the grunt continues when Nox's tentacle /nearly/ makes contact with his face, his head flinching back -- which distracts him long enough to make his block of Tatters' hammer /less/ than ideal. He /shoves/ back, swinging his shield up at an awkward angle -- when the hammer hits, it makes a bone-jarring /CLANG/. Designed to absorb and distribute impact across the entire extent of the shield -- and his arm -- the blow nevertheless manages to /nearly/ wrench his shoulder out of the socket. Malthus steps back, one hand extended, shield in a defensive position. Somewhere in the tunnel ahead, there is buzzing; somewhere behind Malthus, the two soldiers are approaching -- still a great deal of /distance/ to cover, but they are coming. "My name is Captain Rogers. I am an agent of the US government," Malthus tells Tatters. "Surrender /immediately/ and I can guarantee your release. Otherwise..." Malthus' skin is -- something unusual is going on, here. His veins are pulsing -- across his face and neck. Some of them have taken on a slightly... greenish tint. His breathing is hard. "...I /will/ kill you." Calm. Level. Like ice. Tatters' joints click as she turns, straightening herself out, an eye swiveling in her stony face to keep watch on the tunnel behind her while the rest of her face gives Malthus a...neutral look? Really, she's not really doing expressions today. Her voice is expressively grim, however. "You're from the government. I KNOW where we'll be going if you take us. I'll take the death." And with that, she charges, hammer swinging. Nox, who knows full well how much damage Tatters has taken, /does/ hesitate. She even whispers the young woman's name, though the sound could easily be mistaken for the scrape of foot against damp concrete, or a harsh breath from the others in the tunnel. And so she is carried along--and does what she can, wrapping herself around Tatters' torso to add a leathery layer of armor to the scales beneath. There is something about the way Malthus smiles in response to Tatters' words. A certain raw, primal /satisfaction/ that seems almost out of place on the man's often distant, serene expression: "Fair enough." And then Malthus charges right back -- full force, nothing held back. Shield SWEEPING out to connect with that hammer -- his other arm shifting to add even more force behind it -- attempting to catch it right before it reaches its full arc, early in the swing. Hard enough to shatter bone and crack concrete. Throwing both arms /and/ a shoulder into it. The buzzing gets a little ouder. And the soldiers get a little closer. Tatters hammer connects with the shield with a thunderous clack...but she keeps moving forwards even as her weapon rebounds, two arms grabbing inwards from the other side, one towards her opponent's face and one at his arm, her tail sweeping out to maintain her balance as a couple hundred pounds of Tatterhood continue barreling forwards. Her stony composure is starting to crack, however: her arm ripples with the shock of the block, and her breath is shallower than it could be, one lung still not fully knitted back together. Beneath the tatters of her tank top her scales look less natural, darker and more man-made, broken and dislodged where a few bullets have found their way through but surprisingly intact where some haven't. And around that Nox sits like a shadowy sweater, a presence that constantly nags at the back of Tatters' mind. Because she has Nox to carry. She *can't* die here. That would be a mistake. Planting her feet on the ground Tatters pulls back, using what grip (if any) she's managed to land on Malthus to draw him up before her like a (recursive) shield against the approaching soldiers. Surely Nox is suffering much the same thought, but in reverse: Tatters has taken so much damage already, and this man, this horrible, horrible man, has said without so much as flinching that he will kill her. She can't allow that. Tatters' grip on Malthus provides the bridge. The sweater remains, wrapped securely around the other Morlock. But in the shade cast by their grappling, tendrils can travel. And travel they do, beneath Tatters' straining arms, to squirm beneath the gaps provided by the g-man's clothing. If Malthus has ever suffered an attack of foxtails in the wild, he will know this feeling. This burrowing, barbed feeling, of small, pointed, hook-bearing thistles digging deep and seeking vulnerable flesh to sink into. To tear at. To /pull/ and /rip/. "Ungh," Malthus releases a harsh, surprised breath at Tatters' grip; there is also possibly a strange, serene smile on his face as she seizes hold of him mid-charge. As if he was almost /proud/ of her...! The shield, once it has blocked that hammer, descends -- it has a razor-keen edge, and Malthus is /jamming/ it down for Tatters' throat, aiming to embed into sensitive flesh and /slice/ with his arm as violently and viciously as he can manage -- even as that hand seizes hold of his face, hot breath washing across Tatters' palm, the other grasping his free arm. He seizes, /twists/ in her grip with extraordinary strength -- but if she lifts him up, there ain't much he's going to be able to do. "--shhhzz," Malthus begins, his eye /widening/ sharply as he feels the shadow flowing forward, inward, finding the kinks in his body-armor -- slipping down to bare flesh to /penetrate/. Nox would find that, at the moment, Malthus' skin is somehow more resilient to harm than it has any business of being -- but that doesn't mean she still can't penetrate, barbed hooks digging into flesh and drawing blood. It is at this point that two soldiers have taken positions on one side of Tatters -- and three Oscorp drones are hovering on the other side, their THWIPPY guns charged and aimed. But neither of the enemies are attacking. Not /yet/. Tatters twists and ducks, raising a spare arm to intercept the shield, the razor edge slicing deep and lodging in her shoulder before she can reach around and grip the shield-holding forearm to halt it. Her strength matches his as she hauls him up, speaking quickly as she starts backing past the drones as she struggles to get a better grip on her powerful, struggling opponent, at least one hand still clamped over his face. It's far from a foregone conclusion at this point, but Tatters still speaks quickly and raspily as she tries to maneuver that shield away from anything vital, and makes a mental note to put her arm back together once she has a free moment. But there's no time for that now. "OKAY PEOPLE I'm like 90% that I can kill your captain here before you take me down. You stand down and you lose a day's work, you don't and you lose Captain Expensive here. Seems like an easy call." Beneath, Nox redoubles her efforts when she finds him thicker skinned than expected. There's precious little wiggle room, body-fitting armor being what it is, so she can't rear back and stab at him. But she /does/ continue to twist those tiny tentacles, splitting their ends into more and more of them to draw more blood. It may well be that she's trying to ruin Tatters' bargaining chip! Through the pain of Nox's intruding barbs -- and through the overwhelmingly powerful grip of Tatters' hand -- Malthus starts to wheeze. Wait, that isn't wheezing -- it's... laughter? Kind of subdued, choking, spasming, /anguished/ laughter -- but laughter none the same. "We do not," one soldier states, flatly. "Negotiate with terrorists," the second finishes. "One more step and /everything/ in this tunnel will kill you." Does it matter which one said that? Malthus rasps through the fleshy meat of Tatters' hand as Nox continues to penetrate: "Gfn... --Audrey." Despite that pain, he is somehow. Still so level, so /calm/, even as his muffled voice rumbles through Tatters' grip. "Audrey. Surrender to --" Krrt. "--me. And I will spare. Your companion." Wheeze, /spasm/. Ooh, that one's gonna leave a scar. "Otherwise. I tell them. Open fire." "I'm NOT--" When Tatters moves she moves fast, throwing Malthus bodily at one soldier and quick-stepping towards the other, soaking a burst of gunfire that goes only halfway to drowning out her shout as she steps behind the soldier, using *him* as new cover from the drones. Maybe he doesn't want to be that; maybe a haymaker at his helmeted head will do some convincing. "--A FUCKING--" Further convincing tears the assault rifle from the soldier's hands. This one gets thrown at the *other* soldier as she backs up with an arm around the first's throat, praying that the Osbots have sorted out their friendly-fire issues by this point. "TERRORIST. I've PUNCHED TERRORISTS, they're just like fucking YOU with your BULLSHIT FUCKING SCHEMES and your LOOK AT ME I'M FUCKING WITH PEOPLE THEATRICALLY. Now put your FUCKING GUNS and your STUPID FUCKING SHIELD away and GO THE FUCK HOME before I have to kill someone who's just doing their fucking job because YOU were hankering for a fucking fist fight." She's not even backing away anymore, just standing there, shouting at the gaggle of soldiers and robots over her hostage's shoulder. So much for serenity. When Malthus is /thrown/, the shadow foxtails vanish and he's left without fear of being punctured many times over. Any more than he already has been, of course. Those tentacles are severed, sliced by the lights shining down on them from all around. Nox has no choice but to be carried along through Tatters fucking amazing tunnel ninja routine. Of course, where the other Morlock is busily working on keeping herself from being shot (more), Nox is applying her admittedly hazy mental ability to their current situation. Which is slightly surrounded, riddled with bullets and dealing with someone who might well be more insane than she is. Small wonder then, that a very small voice rises from behind that human shield. "...will you release her?" "Nnnh--" is all Malthus manages as he is /hurled/ at one of his own soldiers; the man immediately drops the barrel of his gun toward the floor and braces himself for impact -- cushioning Malthus' hit. WHUMP. Down they go, with the soldier taking a step back to sling an arm around Malthus' chest. The sudden burst of ACTIVITY leaves one soldier in Tatters' grip; the other is rising to his feet, with Malthus still crouched beside him -- the rifle thrown his way causing the soldier to step back -- not opening fire, not /yet/ because -- there's another soldier in the way. The Oscorp drones hum, buzz, but also do not fire -- although they swing back just a little, giving the sudden spurt of violence proper room and space. Malthus grimaces; the soldier in Tatters' grip hurks -- and the soldier that's still recovering from Malthus' impact and the rifle toss steps back, taking aim. "...stop," Malthus says, wheezing at the soldiers' feet. Is he talking to his men? Or Tatters? Hard to tell. "--yes," he says, to the shadows. "You have my word. Dim the lights on my location." And suddenly -- without even a moment's hesitation -- the tunnel is /dimmer/. Not pitch-black; not even close. But enough, perhaps, for Nox to peek out. Malthus, struggling and coughing -- blood dripping from his black armor -- begins to sloowly rise to his feet. "Audrey," Malthus wheezes, through wracking coughs, "I can blow this entire tunnel with just one word. /Surrender/." Tatters just gives Malthus a disgused look, her face something far less statuesque and stony -- a bit more gobliny, but much more expressive. And the expression is one of absolute scorn. "Really. You want to blow up your *own* men, now? You have REAL terrorists to hunt, and you're down here getting good men killed chasing an actual fucking shadow?" Glancing up, Tatters looks at the standing soldier and sighs. "Sorry, man. Looks like you're laying down your life for absolutely no fucking reason because your bosses are idiots." With a tug, she starts walking backwards down the tunnel, dragging her hostage with her. "Come on, I'm sick of this. I'm going to get ice cream, y'all are welcome to come." As she talks, her body is fixing itself -- well okay it doesn't do it by ITSELF, but that shoulder's getting knitted back and she's got most of the *bad* bullet hles plugged. More than enough for Nox to peek out. Even enough for trailing wisps of shadow to emerge from where they've hidden themselves on Tatter's person. Flowing through the gaps and holes in her ruined clothing. Flowing around the soldier. Enough that once the majority of herself has slipped free, she can wrap herself around the soldier--and shove hard against the healing Morlock, pushing her down the open tunnelway while simultaneously doing her best to wrench her human shield away. The gloom is even enough that she can grow floor to ceiling, to block access by the soldiers to Tatters. And, perhaps more importantly, to block the soldiers /from/ Tatters. "...run go heal come find me," she hisses into the woman's ear. And then she focuses on Malthus. "When she's gone, I will go. With you. If you blow these tunnels to get her, I will kill you. I can. I will. It is dark. In the rubble. You die screaming. You all die screaming." "Mmnh," Malthus responds, and suddenly -- he reaches a hand out. Toward Nox. "...good," he says, coughing roughly as he rises to his feet. And: "/Acceptable/." Before, a hand pressing to his ear: "All forces. Collapse to home. /Now/. If you encounter a four-armed mutant who isn't made of shadow, let her through." He lifts his eyes up to Nox, before adding: "Shove your friend out of this tunnel. And you have a deal."