"I've fallen, and I can't get up!" Vyng jokes with a fake, old-timey, posh accent. But as soon as the flippant response leaves his mouth, the meat-grinder lodged inside his stomach starts churning again. Before he realizes it, he's tightly curling in on himself — a futile attempt to douse the fire raging in his organs.

Shit.

He's in the fetal position. And he can't defuse the 7-foot-tall, 5-foot-wide Situation barreling toward them.

"Shiro, " he hisses through clenched teeth. "Buddy—! You gotta...mmmnnghh!"