If Martin Landel thought some spooky, vaguely-ominous-sounding threats were going to keep Depth Charge on the edge of his seat, that guy had another thing coming. Admittedly the note about visitors chafed a little- seeing Cheetor and Optimus again (in the loosest possible sense of 'seeing') had managed to get him, even just a little- but he didn't stop to mull over the details of the intercom message for longer than a few moments. The longer you spent trying to figure that scrap out, the crazier this place made you.

Alright. Crowbar: check. Flashlight: check (although if he wasn't careful he was going to run out of batteries pretty soon). He wouldn't need a map tonight, seeing how he pretty much had a fair idea of the layout on the second floor by now, but it was worth having one in his back pocket just in case, along with his back-up shears. Primus, by Institute standards he was a walking arms factory.

Nodding briefly to the Scarecrow and giving him the usual 'don't-do-anything-I-would-do' look, Depth Charge opened the door and slipped out into the hallway with a click of his flashlight.