Now you're surviving with portals.

John swallowed hard. "It just clicked for me... you could call it intelligence, I guess."

"Kid, maybe you're misunderstanding the situation here. You don't get to be a smartass, and you're not cute or funny for trying. I'm impressed that you can manage a static field without a projector or a generator, and sure, you did it fast... but it's only one tool." A single scarab suddenly appeared on Talon's right shoulder, crawling up from his back. A fat finger reached up to pet the creature's bulbous little head, and the ruby-red eyes narrowed as it happily chirped. It would've been rather cute, if not for being drowned out by the cacophony of the metallic feast below. "Besides, you can't copy my components, which is probably why I'm still alive. If you did, I'd be a pile of cinder by now, hah! So I know yours is weak... and without a generator of your own, you won't even break half of my pets here before you've exhausted that precious pool of yours. Then what? Then I touch you, and you die. If you try to run or keep teleporting around, they start eating you at the ankles till you fall into a swarm of them, and I probably won't be able to call them off in time. That's nasty way to go number two. You get away from all that? I'll just set you on fire, or blow you up, or... Hell kid, I'm not gonna list all the ways I've learned to deal with things way tougher, scarier, and stronger than you. No matter what, it'll be an ugly way to go, and I wish you wouldn't make me, but you need to give me an alternative here."

John let the man talk, focused on his regen... and on whatever he could do to get any other kind of edge. "... Did you say generator? You have a generator?!" John's eyes widened in exaggerated wonder as he cast read mind. "How? I mean, where would you even keep it?"

<Abdomen.> It hovered there so briefly at the forefront of the mad mage's mind, but John knew it had to be the generator. He also knew there was probably no way to acquire it without hurting the mage, which meant it wouldn't work.

"Kid, you're more an Icarus than a Theseus, so stop asking stupidly obvious tricks."

The mist grew near, and John inched away, his back nearly to the wall now. One of the overhead lights flickered as the ceiling-mounted scarabs passed it, until it finally shorted out and fell just behind Dr. Talon and vanished into the swarm. The sea of tiny red lights, where the sandstorm of debris chose not to obfuscate them, slowly retreated from the back of the room to menace the Gamer.

"Fine... so let's say I come with you. What about... the Gorbachev?" he carefully asked.

"The girl? Hah... well, this here trap sends a signal to them that I'm handling you, so they'll know to move in simultaneously. They'll be careful capturing her though, so you can bet that stupid look on your face that she'll be alright... but given all the trouble you're giving me? Maybe we won't sell her right off. She's a pretty piece of meat... maybe we'll take our time with her, have a spot of fun..." The unshaven wretch licked his lips with an exaggerated effort, groaning and chuckling as he went. John steadied his breathing; anger would only get him killed, but it was hard to not give in and just risk his life for an attack, just to try and cave in that hideous face. "But I guess if you stop right now," he continued, his tone almost friendly, "and play nice the whole time we're selling you off, I could prove a gentleman, make sure she stays safe and comfortable... and then sell her off. Hell, if the prices are close, we'll even sell her to the nicer of the best offers. That's pretty generous, all things considered." His head twitched to the side, and John knew better than to believe a word of it. "So what'll it be, kid? They're probably wrapping up as we speak... so will you play nice?"

The only remaining furniture was the screen blocking the path to a bricked-off hallway, a medicine cabinet in the corner, and the doctor's table that even now, thanks to its length, was being dragged into the swarm and consumed sideways. John needed just a fraction of time longer to feel confident enough for his next trick. "Look, I'm willing to play along, but I'm not willing to get sold. I mean, you're impressed, right? So let me sign up with you!"

"Sign up? Kid, you don't even know who... oh, I guess you sort of do. But sorry, we don't take Brighton slaves, even if they're the suckers who signed on without knowing the price." He started to walk forward as the mist began to thicken near John, and he stuffed himself in the far corner as the skittering followed with the mist. "I can tell you're not gonna come quietly, huh? Damn shame, that. Maybe in your next life you'll be a bit more humble."

The crawling horrors began their march, the wave of them heaving towards John's corner as he watched, and waited... and finally reserved over a hundred mana. Rurik stared at his target, waiting for the next move... and watched as the image of John was replaced with an image of his own back. He took a double-take, turning when he realized, at last, that the boy had erected another pair of tunnels. The opposite portal mirrored the position and size, abandoned as it was by his swarm on their way to disable his prey. His open coat and gut greeted him, along with the back of his hair... of which there was less, thanks to being singed off earlier. Self-consciously he brushed ash out of it as he used the portal as a reverse mirror. His eyes scanned the edges of the portal, noting how each had been stretched across the opposing corners of the room, with the one before him sealing Newman inside a man-wide triangle of two plaster walls and whatever the back of one of these pinches in space looked like. Talon was a learned man, and he knew there'd only be enough air for alittle while. He could wait the boy out, if he were also a patient man.

He was not.

Confused by their master's thoughts, the scarabs temporarily retreated, and then fluctuated between which portal to go towards. The Artificer put them back under his solid command, holding them still as he contemplated the puzzle before him. "... Fucking Hell, kid! That's not half bad, either! You're a damn waste of talent... or you would be, if you weren't going to earn us millions, hah!" Rurik slowly approached the portal behind which he imagined his prey cowered, staring at the image of his shrinking back. From its bottom oozed the concentrated smoke at the back of the room, completing the blanket of floating beige matter that would slowly collect on the floor. Seeing no need in risking an idle swarm, he had his tiny machines all cease motor functions, bringing an eerie silence to replace the storm of their legs, leaving instead a sea of glowing red dots across every surface of the now poorly lit room. Focusing in on a single scarab, he sent it towards and through the portal via the floor, barely able to make out its movements as it quietly tapped on the backs of its brothers and the linoleum floor. It stepped through and continued to move, slowly crossing what was now an almost-barren chamber towards its master, then nearly through the same portal anew. He swapped scarabs, issuing a wall-mounted one through only to watch it turn the artificial corner made with the portal's edge on opposing walls. "So this is the real deal... telekinesis, correspondence, and a knack for stealing spells... kid, if only you hadn't pissed me off-!"

The mage raised his left arm... and eerily stiff fingers bent backwards and away, folding outwards to reveal a pillar of metal hidden inside his false forearm. The brass cylinder unfolded, revealing a tank of glowing white liquid that folded out of it and a spray nozzle before which waited a newly-lit flame torch. Talon nodded towards the corner the lone scarab had crossed... and watched as his children began to dig through the drywall. "I already know you can teleport around, boy, so don't think for a minute this Houdini shit will work on me." He ordered the rest of the swarm to pair to the other side of the room, watching them line up to dig similar trenches along the edges of the other end of the tunnel. "It's a street hawker's trick: misdirection, all that. But I don't have time to pick a cup; I'm going to burn you out of one or let my babies eat you out of the other. I guess you're taking that from me though," he added with a chuckle, "since you get to pick how to die unless you come out right now and surrender RIGHT NOW!" The doctor wiped a bit of rage drool from his mouth with his real hand. The pinch in space did not fade. "See, that's another problem with kids: they don't have any respect for fire. They just keep playing with it and playing with it-" The scarabs scattered as the nozzle nudged into the single trench they made, prepared to spray fire through the tiny gap and into the prison the boy had made for himself. "- until they get BURNED!!"

The thick vial of glowing fuel bubbled as the weapon drank it in thin, high-pressured sips, spewing it before the flame and bouncing the resulting inferno into the tiny space. He held the trigger only long enough to fill the theoretical pocket, burning the young man and, even if he had enough mana to survive that apocalypse, replacing that minimal oxygen supply with fire and smoke. The edges of the portals began to sear and smolder as the quasi-napalm filled the space, and Talon had to hoop and laugh as the boy, or his first hiding place, was turned into Hell. With a twist, the spent canister was taken off and replaced by one of the three hanging on his belt near his ass, taken off there with a simple hook that was ever so briefly visible.

With that single movement, Doctor Rurik Talon sealed his fate.

"Boy, I hope you picked Door #2... I'm not sure there'll be much left of ya to sell if you didn't-"

BANG. BANG. BANG.

23 damage to Rurik Talon's mana

CRIT! 38 damage to Rurik Talon's mana (critical modifier cancelled: gun cannot critically strike shields)

CRIT! 29 damage to Rurik Talon's mana (critical modifier cancelled: gun cannot critically strike shields)

Three explosions, quieter than true gunfire but with enough pop to startle even the one shooting it, were followed in tandem by three bursts of fizzling as the bullets shattered upon the barrier mere centimeters from Rurik Talon's grinning face, neck and chest.

He stopped grinning, and John cursed under his breath. The red goggles fell upon the privacy screen, one of the only things he didn't have his scarabs tear apart for his effort to scare Newman... and focused in on the three bullet holes made by an asshole who shot him through it. Ever so faintly visible in the ill-lit chamber, now that he knew to look for it, Talon spotted the silhouette of a foolish young man, a silenced glock in his nervous, two-handed grip. John had indeed been playing the cup game... and the mist had hid his feet while he observed the man from the third cup, behind the side of the wax paper almost totally obfuscated thanks to a lack of hallway lights behind it. Three nearly point-blank shots later, the first half of his plan was spent... and John cleared his throat audibly. "Um, is it too late to surrende-?"

"WAY TOO LATE!" The flamethrower swung towards the screen... and faked John out as it continued to turn with Talon, catching the boy as he blinked back into reality behind him.