Falcon's shriek of alarm splits the air like a knife. Peg and Lopez whip around, just in time to see him get hoiked into the air, only to become entangled in a large knot of ropes about halfway up the wall.
"Falcon!" Peg gasps. "What the hell are you playing at?"
"Do you think I planned this?" Falcon snaps back, tyring to unloop a rope that has tangled itself around his midriff.
Stinking contraption, he thinks, all I did was pull a rope and look what happened. This was not what I was hoping for. He groans and tries to free his left leg, subsequently kicking one of the pulleys as he does so. The ropes spring into action again, and the whole system seems to shudder. To Falcon's relief, his knotty situation begins to unravel. To his horror, he sees that he is about ten feet off the ground and is most likely to fall, with every possibility of breaking his neck in the process.
"Shit!" he hisses, clinging to the nearest rope as the pulleys whirr and click, finally settling back into place. He looks up and finds himself about half a foot away from the base of the rocky trapdoor. He sees the rope holding it and calls down to his companions:
"Here! Pull this one!"
Peg looks confused, but gives the offending rope a tug. The rock scrapes aside, slowly and laboriously, but finally there is a gap large enough for the group to fit through. The only problem now is, how do they reach it.
"Peg!" he calls down. "Can you fly up here?"
Peg shakes her head, "I'd get stuck! Why don't we just climb up after you?"
"Alright, just be sure you don't hit any of the pulleys... I think we're in a precarious enough state as it is!"
Peg and Lopez take to the ropes, scrambling up as if they'd been climbing all their lives. In the meantime, Falcon negotiates his way carefully from rope to rope until his fingers are curled under the trapdoor. He grins and begins to hoist himself up, but suddenly a hand reaches down, grabs the scruff of his neck and hauls him up. He tries to cry out, but a hand clamps itself over his mouth as he finds himself flung up against a hard wall, unable to see anything in the pitch darkness of the new room.
Something cold and metallic presses itself against his throat, drawing a line of crimson blood across his skin. He holds his breath, supressing a howl of pain as the metal bites into his skin. A wheezy laugh eminates from the dark, low and evil. The knife is removed, leaving a line of warm heat against Falcon's neck.
"Falcon?" Peg calls from somewhere below. "You alright? Answer me!"
Falcon tries to make a sound, but the knife is back at his throat in an instant. The wheezy laugh again, followed by a voice like dry bones rattling in a drum:
"Well well well," it hisses. "What have we here? Very interesting... very interesting indeed..."