@ TaciturnTiger:  "Yes, absolutely." He swallows and kneels before the stairwell door.  "Shaft's too dangerous... I'm gonna try something..." He puffs up his fuzzy cheeks and chest and belly, before blowing through the keyknob, a thick mist that fills out the small window with pink obscurity.  "Okay... one minute, tops, everyone in that stairwell for the next ten floors up should be asleep." He looks back and forth between you both nervously.  "So, that noted, have any other talents to contribute to this little renegade parade?  Hey..." He wipes the mussy hair on his head dry.  "I really... I'd really just like to live through this now.  I don't stand a chance if I get caught by our guys... would you guys promise not to eat me when this is over?  I'll turn in right to the police if I have to..." His eyes gleam with a bit of horror at what he *nearly* just went through...<br/><br/>@ Chiro:  "That I think we should.  Caleena!  If you hear us, we're looking for you, all right?" He searches the hall frantically for a crawlspace entrance, an attic latter from the ceiling, anything of the sort.  You feel something slither against one of your rear legs... it's probably the sensory overload still.  "Chiro..." He calls back.  "I think there's something above us... I got a seam." He fools around and there's a click, and a creak, and the sound of grating metal.  "Attic... hey, down there, got anything?" He asks their remaining companion.<br/><br/>At your toes rolls something, bumping your foot.  A crossbow bolt.<br/><br/>@ KavenBach: Sam shakes his head.  "No, really, just think about it in terms of what you know about the outside world when you've spent most your life locked in a cell.  Isolated.  Tim just has his own way of dealing with it.  As you can see, right now he what... the... hell...?"  He stops and stares as within the young man's robes, there's a faint bulging that distends further and further until they're stretching to the limit with a yawning human face, limbs wrapped up and slowly unraveling.  Tim opens up his front to keep from ripping, and parting, budding from his flesh like a cactus or amoeba, spills forth another young man, lithe, brunette, and oddly serene despite his recent readmission to the mortal coil.  "I'm... okay...?" He sits up, naked and holding his knees up to his chest.<br/><br/>"See?" Tim smiles wide.  "Safe still, just like you would have been.  Although he looked a little less like me before... that's the issue when reconstituting someone's pattern partially from your own."<br/><br/>@ Ome:  You awaken several hours later in a daze... it's dark.  And warm.  And very sterile, in terms of scent.  It wasn't the first time you'd awoken in a hospital in this line of work.  The window emanates dim yellow streetlight which falls upon the soft human features of the Firin' Oziran, lying back under several covers.  He was a graceless sleeper, sprawled out flat, limbs twisted this and a that way.  He didn't seem to be in any sort of cast.  As the world comes into focus, you realize as well that it's glinting off of something large and metallic beside you.<br/><br/>A title belt.