As per Kitty's order, nobody's late to the auditorium. Artie's actually the second one there (first being Kitty); he prides himself on this particularly because, as just an intelligence agent, he hardly ever accompanies the Like Hell I'm Dead Battlefront on operations. Actually, he wouldn't have been in on this operation if it hadn't been for Jake and Ryder, who had come to him yesterday with a very special request.

When the two boys enter the auditorium last, just barely on time (but not late), Artie can't help but stare at Ryder's left arm.

No way. That's a synthetic, robotic arm? He can barely wait to pick it apart. Well, not apart, but at least get a good look at its insides. But alas, apparently Ryder wants to keep it functional for the trip down, so Artie won't even get to feel him up until they've reached the Guild.

"I'm not going to even ask if everybody's ready," Kitty shouts. "Com'on guys, you know the drill."

Blaine and Sam run straight to center stage, whereupon they pull up a trap door. Artie swings himself downward, feeling the tension in his leg muscles as he drops three feet before hitting the concrete underneath the stage.

Working muscles in his legs: stretching, extending, coiling, jumping, resting. It doesn't matter what his legs are doing; it's a miracle that they ever work, and that's something in this afterlife that Artie will never tire of.

The new guy lands right behind him. Artie suppresses the urge to jump his bones right then and there, peeling off his shirt so he can take a good look at that insanely seductive shoulder-arm joint. How does the automail transition into human flesh so flawlessly? What keeps it together? And the nervous system—how do all the nerves connect, and…

He might be a little jealous; but com'on, you gotta cut a former paraplegic some slack. He wishes that his time would have had this kind of technology. He spent his entire childhood missing out on everything, just because his legs didn't work.

There's a little ladder hidden in the corner behind some junk speakers that Artie follows Sugar down. Halfway down, though, the cat-girl's ears flicker. Ambush, she hisses telepathically. Somebody's waiting for us.

Artie freezes in place. Unfortunately, the newbie above him doesn't bother looking down.

"Ow! That was my face you just stepped on!"

"Sorry! What are we stopping for?"

Sam groans from below. "It's the moron."

Artie huffs in annoyance and continues his descent as Brody, stepping out of the shadows, snarls, "Shut up, Princess." He catches a glimpse of the man holding a katana in each hand, totally ready to fight.

"Ur so gay and you don't even like boys," Brittany jeers.

Unique leans against her thin metal staff. "Really, hun? An ambush here? In front of all of us?"

"I don't have a problem with you," Brody retorts. "But you, Princess." He points one wickedly sharp blade at Ryder as he drops off the ladder. "I see right through you. Nobody would attack Kitty right off the bat, especially during a recruiting mission. You're a Reaper spy, I know it."

Jake edges a little ways in front of Ryder, his battle axe held at the ready, but Ryder pushes him away and walks up front. "Seriously? I was the one who woke up in an unfamiliar place to find her pointing a gun at me!"

"We can't die," Brody replies, his pointed blade unwavering. "You should have known that, having just died recently."

Ryder hesitates for just a second, but Tina answers for him: "You are being foolish, Weston. Possible brain trauma."

Artie contributes his knowledge automatically. "It's true—we're all teenagers here, so we all probably died of unnatural causes. People who hurt their heads usually show up here with memory loss."

"I remember where I came from," Ryder interjects quickly. "I remember who I was. I just don't know how I died—one minute I was being interrogated, and the next—"

Brody trembles in anger. "Interrogated? He just confessed to a crime, guys!"

Unique folds her arms across her ample bosom. "And pray tell, what did Ryder do wrong?"

"They wouldn't interrogate him if he hadn't done anything wrong!"

All the color has drained out of Ryder's face. "I… I…"

Brody points triumphantly at the newbie's expression. "Would you look at that face!" he crows. "That's pretty incriminating, if you ask me." He takes half a step forward, one katana readying for a stabbing blow, but Sam's abruptly in the way.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Brody, you're taking this way too fast," the blonde blurts. "Look at him! He's defenseless! He told us yesterday that he wanted to be a pa… pass… p-p-peace-dude."

"Pacifist," Blaine reminds.

"Yeah! He's unarmed! Skewering a weaponless enemy would dirty your honor!"

"I fight for Kitty's honor," Brody says solemnly.

Kitty rolls her eyes. "Oh, thanks."

Brittany taunts, "You pull 'em down and there's really nothing there/ I wish you would just be real with us."

Brody continues as if he hadn't heard. "Plus I already speared him through the chest this morning for trying to poison my breakfast. Killing him again won't be much different."

"Just back off," Sam warns, a dangerous glint in his eye.

Brody brings his second sword threateningly close towards Sam. "Are you siding with the traitor too?"

Quicker than Artie would have thought possible, Sam high-kicks Brody in the face. "I said, back off!"

Brody stumbles back a couple feet, the heavy quiver full of katanas strapped to his back carrying him a bit farther than usual. Swearing, he regains his feet and rushes towards Sam, both swords ready to dice him into tiny pieces. Clicks sound as Blaine, Sam, and Kitty raise their guns in defense.

They're too late.

Because the entire floor around Brody unexpectedly mobilizes, shooting upwards at an alarming speed. Brody only has time to fall to his knees at the abrupt vertical acceleration before the metal piston impacts the solid metal ceiling.

There's a sickening crunch. Silence.

Kitty reholsters her weapon. "Well, that was easy."