Tamis hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. The "Treant" had, half a moment before, held her clutched to its woody chest like some less blonde and far less winningly attired Faye Wraye. Now she was on the floor, surrounded by an oily, smoking sludge in which only the stumps of a few massive fingers twitched.<br/><br/>The Treant had been attempting to break down the door to the next level, a maze of offices and corridors, none of it important compared to what lay at the core of the building's lower reaches. Tam remembered a red light, then being airborne. The smell of burning  sap, mixed with ozone - and the soothing, recorded tones of a woman making a polite but insane request.<br/><br/>"Holy shit, Steinman..." That was a mutter, spoken while she glanced around wildly and followed by a shout, "Get down! Everyone, get down low. Plasma guns!"<br/><br/>