It took Wen less than 10 minutes to clear his obstacles. Longer than he would have liked, but not bad all things considering. Wen's hands were drenched in blood, and wiping it on his suit pants did little to help. His shirt was torn in several places, but he had been careful and quick enough not to sustain any injuries. The same could not be said of his opponents.
Wen had lost all patience, and the fight had cleared him of all anxiety. Finally clear-headed, he planned a route in his head and pushed forward. Get back to green, take it as far as he could, and get out. He could reassess once he was in his own territory. Green would be in just a few steps.
The lights flicked to purple.
Really? REALLY? These guys?
Wen didn't slow his steps. He just had to be a bit more vigilant. It would be fine. Though this did mean he was probably headed in the wrong direction. But there was no time to stop and reassess—he had been down here for so long. Day was gone. Gone, or caught. If he did wander too far into another territory, it was unlikely he was still alive. Wen walked faster.
Another step forward, and the ground beneath Wen felt minutely different. He noticed a second too late. A small disk flew out of the wall, its sheared edges snagging his already torn short as he lurched forward. He stumbled forward, attempting to catch himself, but heard another disk fly past his ear.
Glinting in the neon light, the small weapons glittered around him, light refracting off their sharp edges.
Of course these motherfuckers can't be bothered to send actual guards, Wen seethed, they think they are so clever.
Off-balance and entirely unsure what direction he was facing, he stumbled again. The ground shifted, but before he had time to think something was shoving him to the ground.
Wen blinked up in surprise. Surrounded by a soft halo of neon purple light and looking entirely annoyed was Day.