That was his que, it seemed. With one final breath, Bob kicked off the top of the shaft, bursting through the vent into the VIP room. He tried to keep a mind on where everyone was, but he was not used to working in tight spaces. So a lot of what happened came across more like someone chunking a super ball in an elevator.

Swinging out of the shaft, he would aim both feet at the Facades back, hoping to slam him down, while pushing back off him into a backflip and using his hand springs to shove him feet first at one of the goons with a gun. He wanted to take those out quickly. The spring off that goon, or the wall behind him, was meant to drive him palms first into the big bad guy himself. His trajectories planned, he tried to keep the case with the dust in sight, hoping his bouncing around would bring him close enough to snag it or kick it out of reach. He went from Jersey Devil, to Cat man, to Racket Ball in a single evening. A new record.