Phoenix swooped through a window on the top floor, sending glass shards everywhere. Gunfire followed him.
    "Sorry about that!" he didn't pause. They were all grabbing weapons as he sped through the halls, headed for the roof. The stairwell was blocked with anxious bodies. Some of them abandoned their plan for the roof and turned their guns toward Phoenix.
    "On whose orders are you doing this?" he demanded.
    "Get him, the stinkin' variant bastard!" someone yelled.
    "I see we're being rational." This didn't look good at all. Everyone is being mind-controlled! Except me! What a turnaround.
    He climbed over them toward the door, stepping from head to shoulder when he had to; they couldn't really shoot at him without shooting each other, after all.

    Lucky headed for the secret base as fast as she could, following the most Byzantine path she could think of in her attempt to lose the screaming mob. People had crowbars, flashlight, and even a pitchfork. She lit the oil on the water on fire, hoping that would slow them down at least a little. Chandler, if there's anyone I can owe a favor to, this would be a really good time.
    She burst into the cave. Albert looked up at her.
    "What?"
    "We are in trouble," she snarled. "I'm being followed by a million people with pitchforks. This is really not good." She leaned on the wall, panting.
    "But of course!" he shouted, slammed a fist down on the table. She jumped. "Come with me, quickly." He limped to the other entrance. "Where are those stupid mechanical steeds?"
    "In the garage."
    "Quickly!"
    She remembered the stolen drive and hesitated. It was hard to tell how close they might be, or if anyone was still following her.
    "We don't have time," Albert snapped. "Trust me. Fly this thing!"
    She took him at his word. They zipped up through the garage, ducking thrown objects.
    "Ingrates," Albert muttered, holding onto Lucky for dear life.
    "Where are we going?"
    "That way!"

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