It's difficult to be certain of just how much time has passed in this trackless artificial forest of wires and blinking lights. Yelena would put it at several hours at least, judging by the faint burn in her thighs and the dryness in her nasal passages from breathing the recirculated air, but she wouldn't be entirely surprised to find it's been much longer. Or much shorter. Given she hadn't entered with her current companions, there's little use in asking.

It can't have been long enough, certainly, to reach the centre of the maze - if there is any such thing, elastic as this space seems to be - which is why she's surprised when the claustrophobic press of machinery opens up, revealing the clearing and Zyrian Steel nestled within, like some warped parody of a slumbering fairy tale princess.

"Oh, look," she says, as she stops dead to survey the snakes, and the cradle of wires, and the man who's caused so much pain to so many people. Her voice is thick with the sort of humour that's little more than a thin skin over rage. "We've found Sleeping Douchebag."