[Epsilon heard the yell, responded with a Sure thing, Agent Bitchington, before the electricity struck the platform. Somewhere, Epsilon winked out, forever or for now, it was initially impossible to tell which. The surge, the effort to run this was massive; the electricity and content such a draw, a siren song.

He felt thinner for a reason.

He felt nothing now.

But that wasn’t for Wash to know, couldn't be his concern with all the grit and sand in the way. It was shadowed in here, lit in spots by the occasional safety flashlight attached to the wall just enough to see. If he spoke, it would echo from all the nothingness inside.

It was empty and brown and maybe even familiar from a time he had traveled with the Meta.

And here was another familiar thing: the sound of an alien energy sword coming to life and the blue light suddenly illuminating the walls.]

Who the fuck are you and how did you get in here? [It didn't sound as hardened as what the war started to create, instead something young, something that still didn't take shit seriously. Except, maybe this.] Better talk because I'm about three seconds from teabagging all your corpses when I'm done with this shit.

[Welcome, Private Tucker.]