"That's not possible..." Bruce answered disbelievingly. After bashing aside a charging robot, he said "The night before we ended up here, I helped my friend Nailah after some mystery weirdo calling himself Hazard kicked the crap out of her. We thought he might be from, like, the future or another dimension or something because he knew her somehow. Guess I was right."
"Take me down, eh?" Hazard asked, "But then I couldn't send you home. I made a deal with a certain strawberry blonde and her little manchild that I would. And I'm nothing if not a man of my... HAHAHAHA! I can't... I can't even finish that sentence. I just happen to need her to feel cooperative a little longer."
"Then we will deal with that when it becomes relevant, though you are assuming he's telling the truth," Siberia says, the ice around her bulking up as she wades into melee with the robots.
"Who said anything about hostages? They came willingly. All it took was telling them they could help you get home. And you really should get going before I... well that would be a spoiler now wouldn't it?"
"Actually, now that I think about it, do brainjacked Flintstone Stormtroopers count as hostages?" he added thoughtfully.
"No wait! Better idea! Robot minions? Gotta catch 'em aa-aall!"
Doors opened and more insane machines emerged, making an effort to surround and overwhelm the team even as their numbers were being reduced to scrap.
Siberia dodged a hair late and the bladed arm of one of the insane creations gouged into her armor and drew some blood. She wrenched the robot around, smashing what passed for its head with an icy fist. "See? No hostages. Now move!"
Bruce leaped into the horde with reckless abandon, landing with a two-fisted slam that sent out a small electric shockwave. One robot even exploded, embedding a sawblade in Will.
The robots continue to throw themselves at the mutants, sometimes literally, until it becomes apparent that they could only have been intended to stall the infiltration party. They are just too fragile to have ever captured the group. However, one behind the others seems to just be standing there. The squat, vaguely humanoid machine cocks it's crooked cyclopean head and titters before popping out a checkered flag.
"Last.One. There's. A. Rotten. Egg," it proclaims in six different robotic voices. Then it begins to run away, flag held high and giggling.
Haley grunted with exertion as she compacted one of the last remaining robots into a cube, the sound of the running robot caused her head to snap towards it.