"Get the frag out of here! Move!" he screamed, grabbing the inert form of the group’s leader as he retreated. Mercifully, the man seemed only stunned and was already able to move with the elf’s help. Geraint didn’t have to be told twice. He reached down and drew Michael up under the arms, dragging him back onto the landing, leaving the slighter form of Serrin to Kristen. The three of them struggled out with their burdens, the elf going back a second time to pull out his troll comrade as well. The static was forming into what looked like ball lightning and was beginning to spin in a crazily off-kilter orbit around the epicenter of the room. The man in the suit lay groaning, barely conscious, flowers of blood blooming down the front of his once-perfect white shirt. Geraint rushed to help the elf, and they managed to drag the heavy troll out of the room and slam the door shut in time.