---

Alcatraz considers this, deliberates in the span of several heartbeats, stares at 93 with that terrible, unfeeling red visor.

[I remember what that was like, I think,] he grumbles, voice tinny and just a shade on the side of inhuman. [I can’t really out-think all the processing power the suit has, though. It outsources a lot.]  He looks away, seeming thoughtful again, and rubs one hand at his other forearm absently, as if trying to jog some distant memory.

After precious seconds, he gives up, and shrugs blankly.

[If you need my brains, you can always ask.] He doesn’t comment on how endearing it is to see the mighty Hellwalker look so… bemused.