[From here]

...would have been next to impossible even if the door hadn't locked them in.

For you see, when Scott put a foot down just inside the hall, he expected it to hit ground. He was slowly getting used to trusting that ground would be there in the absence of being able to feel it. In this case, gravity told him otherwise. Scott began to tumble — painlessly, painlessly down a darkened, rocky incline, with no way of knowing which side of him was on the ground at any point.

"Whua! Augh! Doh! Fuuu— Sonuv— Rolling! Help! Bah! Uaaaaaaa!"

It was Scott's dumb luck that while the incline was steep, it wasn't smooth all the way down. Eventually, his heel rammed into an outcropping of rock, and Scott's sense of momentum kept him from keeling over forward when it hit. "Uuhhhhhgh..." Scott groaned out of dizziness. He could barely see in this light, but from what he could make out, his coat and pants were in bad shape — dusty, ripped in some places, and completely sliced open from the cuff to the elbow on the left sleeve, where his sword had caught the fabric on the way down. Said sword that was now gone, by the way. He was pretty sure he had heard the tink-tank-tumbling of metal careening down the hill without him.

"Crap..." Scott said as he rolled back the ripped sleeve. He squinted. "Craaaaaap." That was blood. He wouldn't have known it if he hadn't seen it, but there was blood coming from the palm of his left hand. He'd cut it kind of deep, too.

[From here.]

The coat ruffled around Badd's shoulders as the two marched out into the wilderness. Badd reasoned the mountains would be safer than trying to go through the forest and god knows what kind of mad animal life lived there. The mountains would have caves and fewer people, up there it would be easier to lose oneself for a morning.

It was a mad long shot but it was all Badd had. As they walked he began wishing they'd taken the time to gather some kind of survivalist supplies or food. Badd was a man of the city with coffee for blood and cement for bones. Nature was something that happened to other people. But they were out here now and going back just meant starting all over tomorrow night, if they even lived that long.

His legs ached. Badd wanted to say something to Byrne but had no idea where to start the conversation. There seemed little to talk about besides the walk ahead of them, and Badd had no idea what was ahead of them. Freedom, here's hoping. Or death. Either worked.

[[from here]]

The same nausea and the same sick pulling sensation, and then Sasuke was breathing in the cool, slightly dank air of underground. The faint empty echo when he dropped Aidou's arm and took a step forward suggested a large space -- the large room at the bottom of the stairs to the basement, then. Not the arena where ...

That hadn't been his blood, of course.

Sasuke tilted his head back to the other two, waiting. If there was something new as a consequence of what they'd supposedly won, it couldn't be heard: Aidou would have to be the one to find it, as infuriating as that fact was.