The call was throbbing in his shoulders now, but Ryan wasn’t going to try and fight his way past that many people, even if some of them did look pretty weedy. Instead, he was going to work his way closer slowly, in a manner that wouldn’t make anyone suspicious. These guys were probably capable of calling up those goons he’d been running from in the first place. On the other hand, going over to look at that gigantic cocoon-thingy might be just what someone in this situation would do.

"So," Ryan called over his shoulder. "What’s that big thing you guys seem so interested in?"

"What we’re studying here is of no consequence to you," one of the other scientists said snootily. "You just concentrate on your work."

"Yes, sir," Ryan said. Asshole.

Turning back to the tract of floor he’d set himself up to mop, he tried to ignore the throbbing in his shoulders. He pretty much knew where it was coming from now: that huge-ass cocoon on the floor in the center of the room was giving off a seriously strong vibe to whatever it was that had jammed itself in his back. That was going to make it a little harder to ignore the thing while he went about pretending to work, but that was what he had to do if he was going to get the chance to look at that thing without getting in trouble with the goon squad.

When he heard the door slide open, he almost turned to look over his shoulder to see who had just come in. Then he figured that that wouldn’t have been a very janitor-ish thing to do, so he kept mopping. When the guy started talking—he knew it was a guy from the sound of his voice—he started to wonder just why it was that he sounded so familiar.

Where would he have heard this guy’s voice?

Casually turning to look over his shoulder, all the while making sure he kept mopping, Ryan nearly jumped out of his skin. It was Mr. Badass himself! I was sure I lost that guy somewhere around my fifth right turn! Lousy, crud-munching Volvo-humper.

Turning back to his mopping, Ryan tried to make himself as small and inconspicuous as he could. When the guys in the room started talking about "that tricky green-eyed bastard," Ryan started to wish he’d found a pair of sunglasses to put on over his very obviously green eyes. When he glanced over at the guys who were talking about him, he bit his tongue to keep himself from jumping when Dick pointed him out to Mr. Badass.

Ryan turned back to his mopping, moving more quickly so he’d hopefully persuade Mr. Badass to not try and have a chat with him. He jumped slightly when he saw Mr. Badass heading for him, especially since the guy had a rather unpleasant look on his face. Subtly picking up a bottle full of bleach, Ryan braced it against the cart and pushed/twisted the cap off, palmed it, and tossed it onto the cart’s bottom shelf. Now, at least, he had a weapon.

When a large, meaty hand clamped down on his shoulder, Ryan turned his most annoying – at least according to other people – smirk on the guy.

"You!"

"That’s right, Chachi," Ryan drawled, waggling his eyebrows at the guy. "And I’ve got something else for you!"

Throwing the bottle of bleach forward with all the force he could muster in the confined space he had to work with, Ryan was rewarded with the sight of a large amount of its contents splashing into Mr. Badass’ face. Shoving the cart at him and making sure his own hand was still closed firmly around the handle of the bottle of bleach – pretty much the only weapon he had right now – Ryan turned and ran.

I hope I can find another way out of this room, Ryan thought as he ducked a swing aimed to knock him over and then deliberately spilled some bleach on the floor to trip up his pursuers. If I can’t, then I’m in some seriously deep shit.

There was someone – someone like him, someone connected to what he was, somehow – and that person was in very grave danger. He wanted to help, but the other one was far away from where he was, and for some reason he couldn’t move. So the person he wanted to help would have to get closer to him. That meant that he would have to find a way to communicate with the one who was like him.

The one who was in danger.

He tried, but the one he was trying to communicate with didn’t respond the first time; he seemed to be too preoccupied with the danger he was in. It was good that he was trying to keep himself safe, but from the feeling he was getting from his… counterpart, he didn’t have much hope to get out of the situation he was in. That was why he was going to have to try harder to contact him.

You have to listen to me! Get closer to the… the cocoon! It’s your only chance to get out of there!

He could sense that his counterpart was worried—worried about his pursuers catching him, but worried about something else as well. There would be time to find out what else he was worried about once the two of them were safe, since this place – whatever or wherever it was – was dangerous to the both of them. The ones out there were trying to get inside his cocoon, trying to break open the only thing that was keeping him safe and out of their hands, and the only way that the both of them were going to get out of this place safely was if his counterpart came with him; he could sense that somehow.

Listen to me, you have to get to cocoon! It’s your only chance to get out of here!

He could feel his counterpart responding to him, moving closer and finally touching the cocoon that he was staying inside. Once his counterpart was close enough, he started to open the cocoon.

Focusing, he opened the cocoon just long enough to let his counterpart fall inside—just long enough to be able to protect them both.