[i][b]—— Earth-F67X: North Capital City: Flatiron [/b][/i]

Just as Dom offered his unsolicited, but in his mind necessary for a psychopath, advice, his phone vibrated to life and busted out an ugly blare. He pulled it out of his hoodie’s kangaroo pouch, glanced at the screen, looked confused for an instant, then went pale — which, given his swarthy complexion, was impressive. The notification prompt merely read [b]CODE GESTALT[/b].

[i]“Work. I have to leave, like, right away,”[/i] he mumbled an explanation to Han, glanced around confused, reconnoitered, and nodded resolutely.

[i]“Sorry,”[/i] he choked out, turned, and sprinted south down Fifth Avenue. Nearest entrance to the Mainline Defensive Array was 2 kilometers away, a 10 minute run if he pushed his five-two self hard; what he lacked in stride length he more than made up for in robust glutes.

[i]Shit. First time in a year. Is this the real deal? Nah, no way. 

Frick, I hope everyone is safe.

This is bad.

It is always bad.[/i]