"Emergency Services. What is the nature of your emergency?" a voice asks from Tsanek and Metekra's phones.

"This person has been shot in the knee," Saþel comments, from where they're applying pressure to the wound. They've taken off their robe, breaking it down into strips to create a tourniquet and bandages.

"There are three people here with guns who seem confused and unable to handle them safely," Tsanek continues. "One has already been subdued."

Mike's head swings toward where Timmy was, seeing him laid out with a heavy glass sculpture lying on the carpet near him.

"Okay, that's it."

He runs over to Timmy's body and pulls it over his back. "We're leaving," he tells Jeff.

"You got it," he agrees, straightening up and helping pull Timmy outside.

He squints blearily at the empty area in front of the bank. "Where the fuck is the car?" he asks.

"Fuck, man! I don't know."

He scans the area — it doesn't look at all familiar. More grass and trees, no cars, and the surrounding buildings laid out entirely differently.

"Let's just, uh, let's get out of sight over there," he says, pointing to the alleyway between two buildings.

There is a loud burst of static from the train station speakers at the other end of the grassy area.

"Alert! There may be two to three violent people armed with guns and unable to avoid harming others with them in the area. It is advisable to remain inside and clear the area for emergency services," a voice announces.

They make their way into the alley, and Mike has Jeff check to see how badly Timmy is hurt while he keeps watch.

A minute or two later, a train loudly decelerates into the station, disgorging a golf-cart like vehicle and a small crowd of people in tight-fitting white shirts with purple squares on the front and back. Several of them rush into the bank, while the remaining ones linger by the train station. Behind them come people in black and purple pants, who fan out into the surrounding area, briefly peeking into each building.

"Shit. Yeah, we've got to go," Mike says. "How is he?"

"He's coming around. Here, you get his left side," Jeff says, pulling Timmy's right arm over his shoulder and boosting him into a standing position.

The alley lets out into a narrower cross street. A set of overhead electric lines are strung between the buildings, and the road is paved with smooth concrete rather than cobbles. But despite clearly being primarily intended for deliveries, the road is still fairly open. 

Mike hastens them across into another alley. He has them ditch the masks and their outerwear, hiding the guns in their mostly-empty backpacks and then continuing through the rest of the alley into another grassy area.

"Act natural," he tells them.

"What the fuck does 'natural' look like around here, Cheddar?" Jeff whispers. "Because I have no goddamned idea what happened in there."

Mike scans the people he can see from here, making their way between the various shops.

"I think," he concludes. "That it looks like stupid-ass haircuts, one of those glowy things in your hair, and robes. Let's just get over there, see if we can wait for someone to go by and nab their clothes."

They station themselves by the corner of some kind of consultancy and wait for a lone person of approximately the right build to pass by.

Lhemis is checking his messages on his phone and not paying too much attention to his surroundings. He emits an undignified squawk as they grab him.

"I find this surprising and unpleasant! I would prefer not to be grabbed," he tells them.

Jeff stares at him for a moment. "Hey Cheddar, I think I've got it figured out. It's aliens, gotta be."

Mike ignores him in favor of getting the man into a hold that lets him cover his mouth.

"Listen to me carefully," he explains. "I'm going to give you a series of instructions. I want you to nod to show that you understand each one, alright?"

It's a terribly crude troubleshooting tool, but he feels this close to figuring out why people aren't responding right.

Lhemis is pretty confused, but it sounds from his attacker's tone of voice as though something serious is going on. He nods, cautiously.

"Good. In a moment, I'm going to release you. When I do, don't try to make a fuss or call for help. Slowly pull your robe over your head and put it on the ground, and then turn away from me and put your wrists together. Understand?"

Mike eyes the entrance to their little alley nervously.

Lhemis thinks for a moment, and then shakes his head. He really doesn't understand what's going on. Are his clothes ... poisonous? That seems unlikely for many reasons.

Then it hits him. "Ih thih a sekh thing?" he mumbles into the hand across his mouth. "I didnh sihn up foh a sekh thing."

Mike hates whatever is going on here with a burning passion. He gently uncovers the man's mouth.

"What was that?" he asks.

"Is this a sex thing?" Lhemis asks. "Because I didn't sign up for any sex things like this. Check my RFID."

Mike growls. "No! It is not a fucking sex thing. I am trying to steal your clothes."