Gates turned the corner in full sprint, and skidded to a stop. “Bollocks!” he shouted. Another hallway. Another dead-end.

Gates could pilot a Time!Skiff from one end of space-time to the other, blindfolded, with a bottle of Scotch in his right hand and a fit bird in his left, using only his John Thomas to steer. Yet, somehow, he couldn’t navigate his way out of this mad excuse of a fun house. The geometry of the place was twisting like a multidimensional puzzle box. If he could just suss out the pattern before she found him…

On cue, Jeanne d’Arc stepped around the corner, carrying a rocket launcher.

“Joan, baby. Heard any voices lately?”

“Là vous êtes, vous porc Anglais!” Jeanne spat, aiming the launcher.

“Joanie, love, you fire that thing, you’ll vaporize us both!”

Jeanne paused, thinking. “C’est un pari que je suis disposé à prendre,” she said, squeezing the trigger. Gates clawed desperately for the Sonic Reducer as the missile blasted towards him.

“Ceci est combien je vous déteste,” she whispered.