Artyom readied his revolver, lifting it so his motive was clear: protect the Doctor, kill the targets. "Lay a hand on the Doctor and you're dead, ma'am. Whatever powers you have, I'm sure a gun is efficient enough against you." He muttered huskily as she recovered from Eggman's attack. "You want the emeralds? I'm sorry, but we can't do that unless the circumstances are fulfilled."