The hell is going on the hell are you the hell are we and- GOD. DAMN. IT. [ The last three words punctuated by frantic, futile jerks away from the wall that get him NOWHERE. ] Can you get me out? I need to get out. I can't stay pinned down I'm gonna get shot and die and I do not NEED that to happen today!

[ No matter what he does. And he STILL can't port away. But he can breathe. And sag into the wall, thumping his helmet against it. Jesus. Christ. Why is this his life. What is going on. WHY HIM? ]