Samuel, the blond, older Heartbroken kid, was wandering off. No rush, no real apparent purpose.

Any weirdness was cause for alarm. I floated up, until my toes were just above the head of the tallest member of my group. Sveta followed my cue, heading off to the left, gripping a ‘shelf’ that housed a row of people to haul herself across the floor, dropping to one knee to skid along the surface using the low friction of her multicolored armor.

Love Lost and Withdrawal followed, metal claws and metal, curved stilt-limbs clicking on the floor as they moved into position. The harpoon dude followed them, hands going to the back of his head as the harpoons fired out of six points across chest and stomach. He hauled himself forward in much the same way that Sveta tended to move, but staggered the pulls.

Samuel slowed down as he walked, and we surrounded him.

Then he lunged, reaching out for someone sitting on a bench. A guy in white scrubs with a five o’clock shadow, glasses, and hair made tall with grease and mess. The guy fell backward off the bench to avoid the reaching hand, scrambled to his feet, and ran, while Samuel failed to catch up.

But Sveta was already in position to cut him off. He turned to the side, and saw Withdrawal, a skinny, tall silhouette with a face covered by a tinker mask, burdened by a syringe that made the limbs threaten to buckle under him.

Love Lost behind him, wearing her modified mask, a dress with a slit up one leg, and her claws.

And me above, surveying the situation and ready to fill any gaps that appeared.

“Felt something from him,” Samuel said. “Emotions, muted.”

“You can’t seal off the exits,” the man said. “We need access to facilities. People would die.”

“Who are you?”

“On-site doctor for ground level southwest. I can monitor vitals, I help anyone here who has health issues. Heart attacks, sores, choking.”

“What is this?” Sveta asked. Her voice held that touch of suppressed outrage and indignation that tended to appear whenever Cauldron or Cauldron-related stuff came up. This qualified.

That outrage and indignation were entirely fair, really. But it was a thing and it was a thing I’d keep track of, just in case.

The guy didn’t respond, lips pressed together. When Love Lost drew closer, he didn’t flinch or look scared. Reduced emotional capacity.

“How many more areas like this are there?” I asked.

He looked up until he saw me. He didn’t answer, though.

“This guy’s useless. Seal the area.”

“No,” he said. “Food and water are carted in from other sections when they run out. Airflow wouldn’t be sufficient with only duct. We need—” he seemed to concentrate for a second. “—circulation from other sections, driven by pressure differences.”

“It won’t be for long,” Sveta said.