"I'm afraid to learn what that means. See you in five."

You break the connection and snap yourself back to your body. "That wasn't a second," Gil complains. "You weren't responding when I—"

"I was talking to Monty, okay? I would've used a talkie if he had one, but you said he didn't. Now, I need you to hold on tight." You pat your horns to make sure he's on them. He is. "And don't panic! Panic is negative! Ready?"

Gil starts to say something, but it's too late: you've already walked straight into the wall of the tunnel. Some combination of Earth Powers and Magyckal Aura (Richard has long since lost the battle against capitalization), plus the helpful rudder of your tail, has enabled you to 'swim' readily through solid earth. Fast. Almost exactly five minutes later, you burst through the ground, showering sand everywhere, and spook Monty half to death. "SHIT! DAMNIT!"

"Hi!" you say, and feel around the top of your head for beetles. You find them. "I said—"

"You said five minutes." He breathes heavily. "Could you always do that? Could you do that yesterday?"

"No, and yes, and I did, sort of? Remember? I was dealing with the scary tendril guy? I guess he already dug into the ground, so it wasn't as impressive."

"Yes. I— I'm sorry for losing my composure. Er. I didn't sleep well." He takes a deep breath and offers you a hand. "Admittedly, I— I didn't conceptualize God as spending much time underground."

"Monty, that's basically the only thing God does." You let him hoist you up. "Gil, could you say hello? You know Monty."

"S-sorry. ...Hi, Monty."

He controls his face very well. "Hi, Gil. I, er, I admit I imagined there were more beetles than that. Madrigal had described—"

"He normally is, but the rest of the beetles are somewhere else. He's just here because... because he wants to be! He's my retainer. Maybe he can help with the plan, I don't know."

"About the plan." Monty dips his chin. "Did you have specifics in mind?"

Right now, you're actually in the middle of the sinkhole: Monty climbed down it and slept in one of the least-destroyed tents. (For two or three hours, from the looks of his eyebags.) You do, in fact, have specifics in mind. Climbing out of the sinkhole, first, then heading over to the arena, then—

"You want to stand on my shoulders," Monty says.

"Yeah? You're tall...ish. And strong. And Lucky would never let me stand on his shoulders, and—" Earl would, actually, but there's the whole monster thing. "—do you see anywhere else to stand? It's all been flattened. I need to be visible!"

Long story short, you balance on Monty's shoulders, having carefully lightened yourself beforehand. (He's strong, but he's not God, so you didn't want to break his back.) From there, you take a page out of Jean Ramsey's book. Richard!

«Yes.»

Your voice needs to be really loud!

«...I can rig something up. You may have to contribute.»

(4/lots)