It's an nauseatingly disorienting, terrifying collection of sounds that come churning out from the carnage, and Rush is defenseless in all ways except to retreat from it and draw deep into himself, hunched against the wall in an absurd impression of a child convincing himself that if he cannot see the monsters then they must not exist. He glimpses a shifting of mass that simply can't be correct, when did a bear enter this equation, but the cacophony of sickening crunches and eerily-pitched shrieks muffles him into petrified, stricken silence, pressed against the curve of the wall, made helpless by his own overpowering dismay.

This is not, bluntly speaking, what Rush would consider one of his finest moments, regardless of its debatable reality.

The corridor plunges into silence, save for the wet sounds of bodies settling and faint rustle of approaching movement. Rush's return to full awareness sends a brief thrill of panic through him when he opens his eyes to the splashes of vibrant blue, faintly, sinisterly phosphorescent and streaked across walls, over the floors, virtually decorating the place, and, most worryingly, sprayed over Daine as she crouches in front of him, apparently human again.

Rush swallows, a painful, jagged reflex that does nothing to halt his incessant shivering.

"You," he rasps, mingled fear and incredulity, "you killed them?" And he must force himself to continue, voice faltering, "...all of them?"