Thanks to good fortune, Tear was nowhere near the door when it practically exploded, the space taken up by a giant fontech. At least, that was the conclusion she reached when the Melodist finally emerged from the spot behind the desk, blue eyes wide in complete astonishment. What in the world? More importantly, what was that thing? It was a fontech, yes, but a fontech in the shape of a metal carriage was quite unheard of. Were they meant to barge into entrances? Did any of this make a whit of sense?

Probably not.

When its front glass shattered and a woman emerged from the interior with a few bottles, Tear could only stare, a silent witness to complete inanity. Though the needles and the chemicals had done well to alter her perception, they stood no chance against the illogical. For a brief, dumbfounded moment, the girl forgot her mission, the miasma, the fact of returned powers and Pow Hammers. Men and their idiocy. All that resided in her mind was the juxtaposition of the entryway and the vehicle as well as the figure staggering toward the exit.

And everything hurt.