The ear-splitting shriek of rending boards does not need to be punctuated by Melanie's wild urging for Rush to become aware of the fact that the requirement for stealth has become irrelevant. He sprints unflinchingly upward, clearing the remainder of the steps even as they begin to disintegrate beneath his weight.

"Fuck," he hisses, brusque and tense, as he distantly hopes that his smaller charge has the requisite speed or agility to cross the gaps his passage has formed.