They made it about halfway into the entrance hall before Milo and Tyson were swept off their feet and pinned to the floor by a rope with a weight attached. Milo found himself being strangled, and his first thought was how unfortunate he was to die next to Tyson.
“Je vais t'apprendre à te pénétrer, merde.”
Milo turned his head to the voice and saw a pale Frenchman holding the other end of the rope. An Angry Frenchman who was in a prime position to kill them. And Tyson giggled like he just got someone’s joke.
“Oncle Gregory a disparu!” called out to the Frenchman.
“Baise ma vie, you hicks speak awful French,” With a flick of his wrist and the rope slacked, and the weight disappeared. “I haven’t seen Greg, I was supposed to about a week ago, tho.”
“That’s what we thought,” Milo said, standing up; he eyed the rope suspiciously. “My Master Hawkshaw sent me to find him.”
“Ugh, Bill,” the Frenchman spat,” cowards send children to do men’s work.”
“I’m 26.”
“Like I said. Child.” he shrugged, “What’s your name?”
“Milo”
“Tyson”
“And I’m Oz,” pointing to himself and then turning away, “And this is my place, goodbye!”
Milo was taken aback by Oz’s lack of consideration for his friend. And he was rude. It all just rubbed Milo wrong. Apparently, it rubbed Tyson wrong, too.
“So ya don’t give a damn about your friend Mister? That’s my uncle, and I’m asking for your help.”
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Oz spun on his heel to face Tyson, recalling the head of his rope to his hand. Suddenly, the tension in the air increased as the gravity in the room increased. Oz was clearly pissed, and Tyson was glaring right in the face of a hurricane. Tyson had Milo’s respect. Milo chose to break the silence himself; maybe he could calm things before they escalated.
“Oz,” Milo raised his voice, doing his best to represent authority.” Greg disappeared between here and his tent.”
“That’s bad,” Oz frowned, “I think we need to go now! Come on, I’m going to show you something pretty cool.”
Milo and Tyson exchanged confused glances, shrugged, and followed Oz outside. They saw Greg, who they were looking for, standing before them. He stood there like he was waiting for them. He was smiling as if nothing was wrong.
Greg didn’t seem to notice he was hurt at all. He was bruised and broken, even missing an ear; his clothes were torn and caked with blood. Milo felt he had just stepped into the surreal; he thought the man in front of him was unbreakable. He spent an entire summer learning how to throw a punch with magic from this man.
Tyson was the first to move, followed by Oz; they approached cautiously.
“Ty!” Greg said with a crooked smile, “and Oz, Milo too! How are ya?”
“I’m fine, ya ol’codger,” Tyson choked, “were just heading out to find ya.”
“Oh, yeah,” Greg frowned,” I stopped to talk.. to.. an old friend..”
“That’s good,” Oz said softly, “tell us later, ok?”
Slowly, the cheerfulness fell from Greg’s face, and raw horror and agony were in its place. Whatever Greg saw shocked him to the point of fainting. Tyson and Oz caught him before he fell, letting him down gently and cradling his head.
“Milo!” Oz shouted, “Switch with me, ne meurs pas mon pote!”
Milo pulled energy into himself from the world around him. He had never made a jump with more than one person. Milo estimated he would need a burst of energy for an extra person alone, he wouldn’t be able to handle 2 more on top of that. He needed to find a place to jump where Greg could be helped; that wasn’t an actual hospital.
“Milo, stop that,” Oz said, putting a hand on Milo’s shoulder, “it’ll be safer if I make the jump.”
If Milo Had to explain to the uninitiated what jumping through the vacuum of the non-space between dimensions was like. He would likely say it was like slipping in a grease puddle into an atomizer. At the same time, your mind was warped and rearranged before putting you back together and dropping you at your destination. And as he anticipated the jump, he just hoped Greg would Make it alive.