Sly, in those precarious moments, was near oblivious to Harley's struggles with the obscure janitor she so expertly attempted to talk out of searching for them. The warlock, instead, was far more focused upon attempting to navigate the woodworking room he had found himself in. At least, he was choosing to believe it was a woodworking room. Just a very...elaborate kind of one. His flaming fox, in the least, seemed nothing short of thrilled with its companion as it darted about that room in pursuit of the larger blue-fire fox that leapt from bench to bench. The light provided by those flaming creatures, in the very least, prevented the blond warlock from colliding with any of the contraptions in that room. Harley, he was certain, was still outside that door trying to talk down whoever had been following them. Sly's gaze shifted from those leaping foxes and back towards one of the work benches. The wooden surface was all but littered with knives and....what looked like a screwdriver and....something else long and pointy. The warlock's head shook ever so slightly, Sly careful not to touch anything as Harley instructed before the sudden flickering of the lights from the foxes seemed to dim. The pair having disappeared around an alcove of sorts. Was that a door out? Sly moved to step around the work bench and a distinctly uncomfortable looking chair that appeared to have silver layered into it. Who in their right mind would want to sit in that? Vampires collected weird shit. The blond moved to step around that alcove then, his blue gaze straining against the darkness. The blue fox had seemingly disappeared, his own little fox appeared equally as perplexed as it glanced around for its missing companion, its flaming paws resting beside a door. An exit?

Somewhere behind him those large, double doors opened once more. Harley's voice, hissing his name, echoed briefly into that blackness before the doors closed behind her again. Sly's own hand reached forward, pressing agianst the door his fiery counterpart had led him towards- or been led towards by the absent blue fox. Did this even open? What was that...smell? Harley's voice, more urgent this time, rose within the darkness.

"Over here, around the corner."

He called out, turning to glance over his shoulder as he did. The warlock glanced down towards his fox once more, Sly about to send the small creature to find Harley when the raven-haired woman all but blundered around that corner- that profanity on her lips abruptly fading into a clear curiosity as she eyed his flaming familiar. Her stuttered words prompted a soft snort of amusement from the warlock in turn as she queried whether or not that creation was his own. Sly's head bobbed. The Swift Fox, clearly equally fascinated with Harley in turn, rose upon its hind legs, its tiny, flaming nose sniffing at the air in curiosity. It's ears twitching with her words.

"Yeah, he's mine. That's just his mundane form though."

He lamented. As if somehow....unimpressed with that creature and yet, for now, the warlock made no effort to elaborate upon his own affinities. The fox's gaze cut sharply towards Sly then, as if the very notion of being called 'mundane' was somehow offensive to it. The warlock's gaze rolled, his arms folding over his chest, Sly content to ignore the creature's theatrics as his blue gaze returned to Harley once more- his companion gesturing to that iron door softly glowing in the light of the foxes fire. Did he know where it led? One eye rose, Harley afforded a near dubious look.

"Aren't you the one that works here? Shouldn't you know?"

She did work here....didn't she? Although why anyone would want to work in this fucking hell hole he hardly knew. Maybe they had good dental. Hell, maybe she was a long forgotten UberEats driver who'd gotten lost here ten years ago and was still looking for the way out. It seemed feasible. Harley strode confidently forward then, pressing upon that iron door, swinging it open to reveal nothing but blackness- and one of the worst smells Sly was sure he'd ever smelled in his life.

"Fucking hell. What is that?"

The warlock recoiled back from that door, his flaming fox scurrying with him, one hand lifted to wave at the air as if this, somehow, might clear that scent and yet that acidic, potent stench seemed as if it were tattooed to the inside of his nose. Sly almost certain he could taste it upon his tongue. It smelled....rotten. Like something had died down there. Or meat had been left to spoil for weeks on end outside of the freezer. Harley, fortunately, was quick to close that door over. The woman suddenly announced she had good and bad news as her vibrant, violet gaze shifted to meet his own, her features distinctly highlighted by the glow from the fox. Hmmm. She really was....attractive. Sly was near quick to push that thought away. Here and now hardly the time to consider it. His query of just what this bad news might be was abruptly interrupted by a sudden slamming on the doors they had come through. Sly's own form jolted in surprise, the warlock whirling to face those double doors- and the voices that echoed from outside it.

"Is that the bad news?"

Sly whispered near furiously, gesturing toward those doors. Was there more than one person out there? One voice sounded...lighter than the other. Higher. Female. The other was deeper. The pair seeming to argue about whether or not they should go in. One voice seemed content to argue that Risque would enjoy having something to 'play with' in that room, the other insisting she would not appreciate having that room explored or interrupted by 'pests' she had not brought in herself. What sort of fucking weird place was this? Sly's gaze shifted from that door to Harley and back again before the voices from outside seemed to fall suddenly silent. Christ he could hear his own heart beating. Sly shifted instinctively closer toward Harley then, that silence seeming far too, well, silent, before that fog began to seep beneath the double doors they had come through. A sudden, warning cry from that flaming fox seemed to prompt Sly to move once more, the warlock abruptly reaching to wrench open that iron door again- only to be assaulted by that stench a second time. Sly's head leaned forward, peering into the blackness of that chute. A garbage chute maybe? Christ. They hardly had time to consider it.

"You go first."

Those words were directed toward the flaming fox alone, the creature abruptly leaping upwards only to change forms mid-air, that fox replaced with falcon as that now flaming bird dove headlong into that garbage chute (Sly is choosing to believe that's what it is), the light from the bird lighting that tunnel as it flew downward. Sly's gaze shifted to peer behind him once more, that fog abruptly beginning to take shape now, that vampiric monstrosity of a man already taking form. His hand reached out abruptly to grasp Harley's own, Sly hardly waiting before pulling them both into that chute, the warlock stumbling on that slide, the pair plunged headlong into darkness as they slid wildly into the abyss. How Sly ended up on his back he hardly knew. Harley, somewhere behind him, seemed to flail with an equal lack of grace in that darkness. This, by far, the worst ride he had ever been on before that pair were ejected forcefully from that chute and into the air. Sly, for several moments, was entirely airbourne, the warlock yelping in alarm before he came crashing down onto the....sand? Below. A distinctly loud groan echoed from the man as he rolled over and onto his back. That...hurt. The sudden sound of Harley flying through the air behind him however, hardly gave the warlock the chance to move before his companion collided with him. The both of them, once more, in a tangled heap upon the ground. Harley, this time, having managed to achieve that top position.

"I thought I was supposed to be on top."

Those teasing words were nearly uttered on a groan all the same as Sly struggled to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows as Harley's dug into his ribs. This...was going to bruise in the morning. That sand, in the least, had...softened the blow of his landing. His body so apparently having softened Harley's. His flaming falcon, above them, hovered with a look of concern, casting its flaming glow around that....circular....stone....room. Where were they now? The bottom of a well? That smell was just as strong down here. The sand felt damp. Hell, his entire back felt damp.

"Why am I all wet?"

Sly moved to attempt to look over his shoulder, his efforts decidedly fruitless, the warlock insdeat shifting just enough to attempt to offer Harley a view of his back instead. Sly, oblivious to the blood that coated his shirt, mopped up from the chute he had slid down only moments ago. The sand itself was equally wet with that crimson stain. The blood of countless victims long since fallen and dumped within that pit. A near endless supply of meat for the felines of Syn. That pit, for now, decidedly empty save for a scattering of bones and the scarlet stained sand. Sly, for now at least, distinctly oblivious to their plight as he glanced towards Harley once more

"Well? What is it? Is it water?"

Harley looked almost...pale in that half-light, Sly gaze lingering expectantly upon her before the warlock reached for his hat. The baseball cap, somehow, having survived that fall as he grasped it within his fingers, shaking the sand from atop it before placing it back upon his head. Sly shifted beneath Harley once more, the man detangling himself from his companion before pulling himself to his feet, his hands making a futile effort to dust that sand from him. There had to be a door down here right? Either that or they were going to have to try and climb back up that chute.

"You know, Harley, you work in a weird fucking place. What is this room?"

How very...calm the warlock sounded, despite his internal panic. Sly only just began to eye that new room before another cry of alarm from the flacon above prompted him to turn a final time. That fog was rapidly beginning to pour from the chute. Sly stumbled backward and yet, this time, there was nowhere left to run as that fog rapidly began to take shape once more. RUben's hand reached from the smoking plume, his clawd fingernails diving for Harley in the same moment as the falcon above dove like a flaming bullet to strike the heart of that humanoid fog. Ruben's screeching echoed from the walls as fog and flames seemed to erupt in every direction. Little save for ash so abruptly raining down around them. That room plunged into dark silence once more.

"Is....he dead?"

Sly's voice seemed almost too-loud in that space. The warlock reached out, a flicker of flame igniting within his palm, affording the pair light once more. As the sand beneath them began to stir. How quickly that sand seemed to take shape, those grains flying together, twisting and contorting. Ruben, this time, far larger than he had been before, that sand falling away from his body in places and yet still clinging in others as a blast of sand so suddenly sent Sly flying once more. The warlock collided with the stone wall. That flame flickering out as he did.

Silence. Darkness.

"Jesus....fucking christ. That hurt."

Well. He was still alive.

"Harley? You should probably, you know, run."

sly.