The warning snapped him out of his daze just in time to realize he was being grabbed, but not in time to do anything about it. He let out a distressed shout as the Blood Key hefted him over his head, flailing against the move to no avail.

The gangster threw him at the nearest building with superhuman strength. Russel hit the wall with a choked cry and a sickeningly loud crack. He crumpled to the ground. To his credit(?) the speakers and soundtrack were unaffected. With Russel seemingly out of the way, the Blood Key then turned on Bakura.

Shock kept Russel down more than anything else. It'd hurt, of course, but not any worse than being roughly shoved into a wall by someone bigger than you. He gasped, sucking in a deep breath to fill his lungs after the wind had been knocked out of him, followed by a few weak coughs. Nothing felt broken. He was okay, maybe. He shifted, picking himself up and staggering to his feet. He glanced back at the wall.

There was a dent at least an inch deep where he'd hit the bricks. His eyes went wide.

Holy shit. If he'd been thrown that hard, he should probably be dead. He whipped back around to face the battle. He'd come in here with the expectation that he wasn't getting himself into anything he couldn't handle, but it was clear now that he'd been wrong about that.

Except he also hadn't? This was simultaneously more serious than he'd expected and less serious than it should have been.

Well, he wasn't really keen on testing his luck a second time. He couldn't let himself be distracted by any more pulsechoes. He had to take this seriously.

"Clara, track four," he instructed, straightening out his suit jacket, taking up an offensive stance and scanning the fight for an opening.