The prone fighter stirred. He let out a drawn out groan. [color=violet]"I feel like I fell in a river of cheese graters."[/color] He pressed off the ground with his arm and slipped off balance. [color=violet]"I can still fight. Hell, we can't afford me not doing so."[/color] Oz forced himself to a kneeling position. He was already starting to feel better and his arm was no longer bleeding despite the crimson rag tied around it. Those pills were something else. He looked down at Dacer, fallen beside him. [color=violet]"I owe you one. Don't you dare die on me."[/color] He got up aided by the cat, slowly regaining his mobility. [color=violet]"Otherwise I can't pay you back."[/color]

	Oz let the cat guide him. Thinking about the whole crappy situation. He was barely conscious enough to see Yzeira get popped in front of him. No, blood, nothing. That couldn't have been him. This wasn't over. It must have been a clone like Jeff always loved to use in his tricks. But what the hell was with that power? A clone exhibiting that kind of strength? They were in for a world of hurt when they finally reached the tyrant.