I'm Sorry, But the King You're Looking For is....

[Albert Wesker]

It took him longer than he would have like, but steadily his breathing lost the ragged edge. The heat and blistering environs did little to make him feel any better about that accomplishment, what with the pain and discomfort he was still very much unused to experiencing at all. As he lowered his hand back to his side, he briefly turned his eyes back out to the horizon, realizing with a displeased scowl that his means of transportation had very likely been lost among the lava flows. It was either going to be risking the several minutes of focus to summon something else, and risk another eruption of lava, or face a very long, unpleasant trek to...somewhere.

Neither option was very welcoming or pleasant to imagine.

Once Zack spoke up again, Colonel's eyes darted back to the black-haired man. He listened for a moment, mulling over and trying to make sense of what he was being told. The names of Bowser, and the Koopas, meant nothing to him; this was the first he was hearing of them. But he knew what bandits were. And if they were out looking for them, then they were at least doing the right thing, regardless of any moral compulsions or if they were solely working for the possibility of the mentioned reward.

"....didn't really have any destination in mind. Just happened to pick the gate that lead me here." Looking out at the lava, he huffed a deep, annoyed breath. "In hindsight, I kind of wish I hadn't." He turned his gaze down, placing his left hand on the saber emitter where his right should have been. "....but I don't have any particular fondness for bandits and their kind. Been feeling a little...off since I got to this place, but should still be capable of holding my own in a fight, if and when that comes up." He turns partially to Zack. "I'd be glad to lend a hand."

He was indeed more than happy to lend his help in disposing of bandits. The term had fallen out of use in his own day and age, but the meaning of the word was clear and evident, even in the midst of net society. Disposing of such nuisances was practically a given for someone like him.

....the only problem would be his distinct lack of combat programming. He'd been working on it in the back of his mind, trying to piece together the fragmented, corrupted data that made up his combat abilities, since he had set off on his way to reach the gate that lead him to this hellish locale. A few brief taps on the sensors and setting on his blade emitter, and it produced a much more intense hum, sparks dancing briefly along the blade. In Colonel's internal database, a notification was brought to his attention: Screen Divide functionality partially restored.

That would have to do for now.

The sound of a rumbling noise in the distance, of a different pitch than the grating rumble of erupting lava caught his attention. Peering through the haze of heat in the air, it didn't take him long to spot the source of the noise: some kind of hover-vehicle, skimming along over the lava. The strange little creature piloting it was unknown to Colonel, but the lone passenger was recognizable enough.

As the craft came to a halt at Miranda's direction -- she nearly got thrown off in the process, if the way she grabbed hold of the railing was any indication -- Zack started up the ladder. Colonel took one last look at where he assumed his own means of transportation had been before the lava had gotten greedy with it, before turning back as Zack spoke up to him again. "....sure. Count me in."

He awaited the black-haired man to climb the rest of the ladder, before he placed one hand on it and scaled up it himself.