His second bolt of lightning caught the splicer in midair and it dropped, twitching and shrieking, to the floor. Erik's chin dipped once in a quick nod, and he let her drop behind him with a warning, "Keep your eyes up." They reached a crossroads— thankfully, the sign directing them to the bathysphere hadn't been ripped down here, and he went left without hesitation.

The next half hour was more of the same— splicers quickly dispatched by Erik's blades or his electricity, their path detouring around collapsed hallways, periodic glances over his shoulder to catch Jaenelle's profile backlit in the flickering neon. At last they turned a corner and the door to the bathysphere station loomed before them, and Erik couldn't keep back a fervent muttered "Yes!" as they started toward it.

Inside, he pulled the levers to make the thing start its shaky ascent, and he slumped against the wall, heaving the first deep breath (it seemed) he'd taken in weeks. His hands were shaking; the Electro-Bolt left him that way sometimes. Clenching them into fists, he looked up at Jaenelle, who looked disheveled but defiant, ready for whatever still stood between them and the door. He was immensely grateful for her— but the words to say so eluded him, so he settled instead on, "How the hell did you end up here?"