Shanahan paused as pain ran through his leg. He looked around. No one was on the floor with him. It looked like some kind of storage depot with shelves of things everywhere. The light from the cylinder still pointed upwards.

He found a place not visible from the stairwell. He put the cylinder away. He looked down at his leg.

His pants had been sliced and the cloth hung loose over the wound he must have suffered. He pulled his pants down. His leg had a piece missing from it. The edges looked charred. It leaked pus, but not blood. He supposed the Sword's weapon heated the air somehow when it cut.

Shanahan looked around. He saw cloths that looked like they were used for cleaning rags on one of the shelves. He hobbled over and grabbed a couple. He ripped them apart and used them to bandage his wound. He didn't want it infected in stupid medieval land.

He pulled up his pants and tested his leg. It hurt, but he could deal with it. Maybe Wyndham knew a doctor they could see when this was over.

He pulled out the cylinder. The line shone up at the ceiling. She was still somewhere above him. How many floors did this place have?

He should be seeing a bunch of guys with swords flooding the floors looking for him. He didn't. He felt that was because they wanted him to get up to Wyndham so they could use the both of them as hostages against each other.

He wondered how they would get the two powers he held from him. He expected they would have some solution when the big boss arrived.

He didn't know enough about the rules to plan around it, and he didn't care enough to examine the results of his thinking.

The only answer he needed was how many goons were waiting on him to try to bust Wyndham out. He couldn't know that until he made his move. He didn't have time to hunker down and watch things until he saw a chance.

Once Grandview arrived with the rest of the faction, his chances of getting out this mess alive would plummet like a runaway elevator. He had to get Wyndham and get out before that happened. The rest would depend on if they could get the gate stone and go home.

He went to the stairwell and kept climbing. If there were no guards, he could get a look at what he was breaking into. His increased physical strength was the key to that.

He paused when the light aimed down a hall. He kept going up the stairs. The light pointed down. This was the right floor. He walked back down to the landing. He pointed the cylinder down the hall. The light shone on a blank wall near the middle of the wall.

Why wasn't a door there? He examined the wall as he tried to think what he was missing.

He walked down the hall, checking the walls as he went. He noted numbers hanging over blank spaces. He tapped the wall with a knuckle and listened.

He couldn't hear anything going on beyond the wall. Was nothing there? Was the wall too thick for him to hear anything? Did he want to tear the wall down?

He decided he didn't want to do anything to bust the wall down until he knew what was behind it. Wyndham was in there, but he didn't know whom else was in there. He didn't want to get her hurt after all this trouble they had already been through.

How did he get into the room without warning the occupants he was looking at it?

He considered they might have cameras to keep an eye on him, but he dismissed the notion. If they had something that could see him, it would be either powered, or he would be able to see it too.

He tapped on the wall again as he thought. He needed to get a look inside that room.

And if the Sword and Whitehouse were in that room, he had to take them out. He couldn't make an escape with those two dogging his trail.

He thought about the problem and decided he should go upstairs and see if there was an empty space over the section walled off from him. That might be what he needed.

He climbed the stairs to the next floor. He wondered if there was soldiers above where he was walking. He couldn't worry about that unless they decided it would be good to try to take him for their masters.

He thought that he could fight his way clear of anything like that. Being able to turn anything around him into a weapon because of his strength would help him make mincemeat out of his enemies.

He shone his light around. It led him to an empty space that might have been a closet at one point. The light painted the floor. He put the cylinder away. It wasn't going to help him for the next part of his plan.

He hunkered down. He grabbed the floor with one hand. He pulled on the stone. He pulled out pieces of the thing and put them aside until he thought he had a thin cover in place from the remains of the floor. He poked his finger through to create a hole to look through.

Shanahan squinted through the hole. A mob of armored minions covered the edges of the room. The Sword and Whitehouse stood with Wyndham between them. The flying blade hovered next to Wyndham so it could stab her at any second.

He sat back. How did he handle this? Once he broke into the room, Wyndham could be hurt despite the fact they seemed to need her more than they wanted to admit.

He needed a plan that he could make work. If he had a pistol, he could kill the Sword and Whitehouse without getting close to them. Then he could jump down and take out some of the mooks without a worry.

He stood. He needed to go down below the room. He had a plan he might be able to work out. He just needed some surprise on his side.

He made his way down the stairs. He wondered how long he had before the Sword got antsy. He wondered if the man ever got antsy.

The guy looked cool as an icicle while ready to kill Wyndham with that thing he swung around.

He had to go as far as Shanahan was concerned. Whitehouse was too much of a coward to chase after them without support. The Sword would keep going after them no matter what. His job was his motivation, and his job was to keep Wyndham captive and get rid of any rescuers.

Shanahan didn't plan to give him another chance to slice him up. He was getting Wyndham clear, then he was dealing with his enemies any way he could.

If he could stall them until Wyndham was able to get the gate stone back and use it, that would be good enough. He could run from Grandview and see if the other factions would get involved in things.

He wondered how the factions dealt with fugitives from each other. Bounty hunting might be a good job if he knew how to track people down.

He used the light to get under Wyndham. He looked up at the ceiling. Was this really the best plan? He would still have to fight his way through twenty to twenty five floors of enemies.

One of them was bound to get lucky and take him out of the fight.

He could do this. He was better than these mooks. He was a fighting, killing machine. He looked up at the ceiling as he bounced in place. Don't mess this up. Wyndham was counting on him.

He flexed his knees and leaped up at the stone ceiling to one side of where he thought Wyndham was standing. He swung a fist and hoped he wasn't killing her by mistake.

He heard someone scream as the ceiling/floor converted to shards blasting upwards. He dropped down to the floor as the room above him started falling into his space. He caught Wyndham as she dropped into his arms. He nodded at her smile.

“I thought I told you to get the gate stone and go home,” she said as he pushed her toward the stairs.

“My ten percent,” he said as he backed up. He grabbed a shelf and threw it at the dropping gold and boxes and people. One of the mooks caught it with his body and crashed against the wall.

“Really?,” said Wyndham. She headed up the stairs. He followed with a bit of a limp.

Shanahan didn't answer. He had hoped to catch one of the weapons with his impromptu barrage. He must have misjudged the distance.

“We're going to need to go up,” said Wyndham. “Most of the tower army is below us. They're going to try to capture us with their numbers. We might have to do something risky to get out of here.”

Shanahan punched the stairs behind them. Part of the structure fell down toward the bottom floor. He climbed up and did it again. The army was going to need long ladders if they wanted to give chase now.

“There are balconies to overlook the hex up above us,” said Wyndham. “That will let us get outside. We'll have to think of some way to get down from there.”

Shanahan figured he could carry her down from the floors she was talking about. Her weight was nothing compared to the strength he had taken from his enemy.

He wondered if he could just jump down from where he was. Would he be able to survive such a drop. The Fist had survived a five story drop after landing on his back. Could he do the same?

Did he want to try with the injury to his leg?

No lightning meant he hadn't killed either the Sword, or Whitehouse. He would feel better if he had.

That would be one less problem to deal with while they were running from the rest.

“Up here,” said Wyndham. “This is Emil's personal place.”

She pushed a door open at the top of the staircase. They stepped out on a floor full of plants and miniature waterfalls. Shanahan felt his eyebrows rise at the sight of the opulence.

“Emil did this with the talents he has,” said Wyndham. “Luckily there isn't any security to keep us from using his lookout.”

She led the way to a balcony on one side of the apartment. They stepped outside. Shanahan looked down. No matter how strong he was, there was no way he would survive a fall from this height.

“Now how do we get down?,” asked Wyndham.