The feel of his fingers sliding into the fleshy bits of the big man felt weirdly invigorating. He was Not worthless. He slammed his claws into the floor, leaving bloody paw prints as he kicked his legs over his head and sprang up with his hands. He was Not going to die like his friends. He launched himself feet first at the goons attacking Manny. He was not weak. He prepared to plant both feet into one goon and unleash the momentum stored in the boots into the mans body, hoping to shove him into his buddy and both into the wall. Not helpless. He was going to stop them. He was.... the roaring downstairs ended his thoughts and he smoke into the communicator. *Can you guys stop him? Got a supe up here too.*