There was a crazy man making threats in the hallway, torture porn on the airwaves, and the structural integrity of the building was suspect. Just another average night at Landel's Institute. There'd been masculine posturing all around. None of them had wanted to be the one to back down, even if three brains and no brawn made a lopsided attack squad. Then the glowing Ken doll had lost his sense of humor. The world bucked like a Zode taking a fifteen-foot swell -- hang on and wherever you ended up was fine, as long as it was upright. It was stranger on dry land. Usually it took a six-pack plus a decent share of a Hefty bag before his feet cut this loose from his neurons.

The other two guys were a little green around the gills, if their shadows were any indication. S.T. stared Howell down as Jill's gasps faded. Then something that ate two-headed fish for breakfast in the toxic mutation department teleported in. Fuck no. Sounded like Ryuzaki had (finally) turned up the same conclusion.

"Dodge, getting the hell out of?" Someone had to blink. He turned around, giving Howell a clear shot if he wanted to take S.T.'s fucking head off, which he probably could do to his face, and walked out.

[to here]