Depth Charge's glanced back to the Scarecrow's frightened face, flashing in and out of the darkness against the flicker of his torch. As much as it pained his pride to admit it, 'getting out of here' sounded pretty good right about now. He could nurse the bruises to his ego when they weren't face to face with something that looked like it had just crawled straight out of the Pit.

I'm on it was what he had meant to say, but in the nanoklik it took to blink and summon the words the woman seemed to shift through the air like a hologram. And suddenly escaping wasn't an option anymore, because the delicate, waif-like hands placed oh-so-very gently against his temples might as well have belonged to Rhinox for all the good struggling against them was doing. His own hands were clenched from tension, muscles spasmed and tight so that they clawed uselessly around his flashlight.

Which left only one option. Through gritted teeth, he hissed a single command to the Scarecrow: "Hit her. Now."

He could feel bad about making a fighter out of a civilian when he wasn't in mortal peril. Primus only knew what this was leading up to.