[@Terminal]

[i]Donny watched everything transpire with stony indifference, his trusty poker face as impeccable as it ever was. Contrary to said outer expression, his inner self was frothing with turmoil. He hadn't disciplined his mind and body for the rigors of intensive combat just to die some ridiculous Willy Wonkian death alongside a crew of unutterably incompetent misfits. He debated whether he should spend his last moments hugging and repenting, or dismembering everyone. 

[b]Triumph of thah will Naow, triumph of thah will. Control yahself, Donneh ol' boy...

Good. Good. Naow haow yah gonnah sahvive bein' turn'd intah a supahsonic Beyblade?[/b]

Out of the corner of his eye, Donny watched Hiecro. He recalled how her armor had effortlessly absorbed nearly any energy that it had made contact with. Donny needed no more initiative. He determined to give everyone one minute to fix the problem. He figured that if things got any worse, he might speed up the plan a bit.

Donny brought his watch up and began staring at it. The others might notice the hitman absently shaking out a cigarette and lifting it to his lips as he counted each second.[/i]