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The world shifted into a hall of black and white tiles from the floor to the ceiling, dizzying sameness that caused an optical illusion of drowning in infinite squares. Blind Guy was grumbling under his breath.

“WE FELL THROUGH ANOTHER HOLE IN REALITY!” Burn shrieked, furiously. Actually angry enough Nathair didn’t feel like annoying hi – he was mildly shocked when Burn suddenly lunged at him hurling clawed hands at his face. “You! You traitor! You pushes us through another hole in reality!”

Burn actually landed a blow across his jaw. Nathair blinked.

“How could you! Why!” Burn screamed a couple octaves higher than usually like a betrayed, angry child. Nathair thought it best not to attack back but grabbed the guy’s hands with superhuman strength defensively.

“How could I have anticipated that would happen!?!” He protested. Great and now the side of his face was bleeding, that was just rude.

Before he could say anything else though Burn suddenly shot into the air, propelled by a silvery spectral force. That better not come for him next.

Nathair glanced behind him to see…the spitting image of a cleaner, more controlled Arsene. He had one hand in his pocket and the other extended in Burn’s direction assumably keeping him in the air (while the Blind Guy howled curses…)

“Well hello new person,” Nathair said, easily, quietly assessing “and who might you be?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

He nodded. “Nathair.” He said “You actually remind me of someone who looks rather similar to you.”

He added that probingly and he could see the man’s mask of casual indifference suffer a blow cracked apart with barely concealed fury.

There was a loud, palpable silence.

“Arsene.”

“Yes I believe that’s the one. Fantastic wardrobe.” Nathair said, and that’s about the time a huge, ferocious smoke-encased monster started to grow around Burn.

That could be problematic.

 

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