Crash.
Cliff tossed a collapsed wall panel aside, revealing a makeshift shelter built from several office desks beneath it.
"See anything?"
Winslow Schott clung to a broken length of rebar and shakily poked his head out from upstairs to shout down.
"Uh... I think I see a leg..."
As if someone had heard him, cries for help rose from beneath the desks again.
"Help! Help!"
Cliff reached out and tugged on the leg, turning the cries for help into a string of startled screams.
"Easy! Easy!"
He pulled away the bricks piled around the desks one by one, revealing another dusty leather shoe, then a trouser leg, then a man curled up underneath.
When Lucius Fox was dug out, his face was covered in dust, and a layer of white powder coated his glasses. Hoarse groans escaped his throat, but he still looked fairly alert.
"Mr. Fox." Cliff lifted the desk with one hand and pulled Lucius out with the other. "Where does it hurt?"
"...Cough, cough... My back's stinging!"
The Black scientist slid faceup across the ground as Cliff dragged him out. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light mounted on Cliff's shoulder before he finally made out the other man's face.
"Oh, hell..."
He let out a long breath. "I never imagined we'd have an earthquake this bad, much less that a revolutionary leader would drag me out of the rubble."
He raised a hand toward Cliff. "Still, thank you."
"No need to thank me, Mr. Fox."
Cliff answered modestly, "It's all thanks to Mr. Winslow fitting me with backup lighting. Otherwise, finding you in this darkness would've been pretty difficult."
"Weren't you... Never mind!"
Lucius shook his head. "Who taught you to talk like that? You're nothing like the honest, earnest fellow who first