Coop had crashed into the garbage with a mildly disgusted sneer on his face. Silent at first, he extricated himself for the podgy, rancid mire that he had landed in, and gradually, picking over the trash entangling him with stoic resolution, moving upright.

Geoff spoke.

Coop’s face twisted up in some expression that might have been because of the stench, or because of what came out of his mouth in the next five seconds.

“Maybe the next time he pops up,” he addressed the hedgehog, "you can can do something besides standing around like the biggest, stiffest, greenest tool who ever managed to still not actually be a tree.”

“What is with you people?” he snarled.

Meanwhile, Midian picked himself up from his awkward, garbagey landing, looked at himself, and... didn't really do a thing. Didn't bother dusting himself off, acting grossed out, or trying to neaten himself in any way. Reason? They were still in the garbage. It'd probably only get worse before it got better. He just frowned and gazed off toward the ceiling in search of escape.

He opened his mouth to make an observation.

...

The jackal closed his mouth; paused; turned, looked all around, observing nothing but unscalable-looking walls; looked up again, squinted. His mouth hung open again for a second, as if on the verge of making some sort of suggestion... then he just donned a tight-lipped frown, sighed out his nose, and let his arms fall limp at his sides.

He had no earthly idea what to do.

"I believe we were... filtered," guessed Midian, who had his hand laid uselessly upon one of the slick-sided walls. He was looking for something, anything to climb, but there didn't seem to be anything.

Meanwhile, it soon became clear that there wasn't anywhere to climb to. The openings on the ceiling through which they had entered, and through which was their only hope of escape, closed. Ace's assumption proved almost right: it wasn't the walls, but the ceiling! Like a huge piston, the entire ceiling began to lower quickly toward them with a steady grinding noise.

There really wasn't any apparent way out. But there was a voice.

"It looks like you could use some help!" said a youthful, almost mocking-sounding voice. It was a voice that would be familiar to Coop, Ace, Geoff, and maybe Rodolf.

Coop stared around at the sound of the voice.

“What...” he said, “the...”

His face was a grisly, gaping, easter-island head of disbelieving unhappiness — a stone-carved effigy to how bad a day could get before it got better.

The amplified voice continued on, apparently unable to hear their outrage. (Understandable, as it was unlikely the garbage pit was going to be lined with microphones.) "How fortunate you survived our last encounter," he declared, though it was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic. His voice just kind of... sounded like that. Perpetually. "Lucky for you, I did too!"

The ceiling began to grind more loudly as it slowed, a buzzer sounded, a bell rang, and red lights flashed. A dull, pre-recorded voice proclaimed,

"E m e r g e n c y  S t o p."

The ceiling halted about fifty feet over their heads, the noise ceased, and a large, square hatch opened above.

It was no surprise at this point. There stood Seven in all his sneering glory... except he had a little change in wardrobe. All black jumpsuit... black shoes, black belt, black gloves, black longcoat... and, of course, slim black sunglasses.

He was completely for real about it, too.

"You can thank me later," he declared. He nudged a secured coil of rope over the edge with his foot to give them something to climb.

Midian kind of... shared the sentiments of confusion, but at the same time, one could say that his Douchebagometer was tripping balls at the sound of their rescuer's voice, in conjunction with the others' reactions, so it was with slightly more trepidation that he scaled the wire behind Tabitha.

Coop walked up to the rope, took it in one huge mitt, and


stared up the length of the rope at the kid.