Rico rolls his eyes. "The 'kids' won't be too happy to be rescued." he says, harshly. "Expect them to put up a fight. Or to turn you into a droid for trying."

He brings up the plans on his visor display, examining his options. After a second, he turns on his heels and heads towards a vent, prying the cover off. He examines the entry, then his shoulders, and grimaces. Yeah, he's not fitting in that.

"I'll be going overhead, in the ventilation systems," he announces, as he starts unlatching the giant golden eagle on his shoulder. "Get the drop on them. I'll take out Braniac 6 first. Somebody else can deal with the vegetable in the chair." A pause. "Non-lethally," he clarifies pre-emptively, just so he won't have to fight about it. "If there's a way to separate Brainiac 8 from the others, we should take it. We'll have them handled by the time she comes back."

He drops one shoulder pad onto the floor with a dull thud, and then the other. He then looks over his shoulder to talk. Without them, he looks much smaller. Like a young, scowling man instead of a statue of justice.

"Don't mess up."

And with that encouraging sentiment, he hauls himself up into the systems and disappears.