Brainy warned him about the gravimetric fields, but Grif wasn't there to see that warning. There's just a surprised yelp as the trap closes, and he can barely even replace that lost breath under the sheer force of the field.

Screw flying, this is the real cheating here. The thought races, part of a giddy and delirious panic as all his limbs report that yeah, he is well and truly stuck. There's no getting out of this. Grif's head is pinned to the floor, the angles of his helmet propping it up just enough to watch as Rich and the things-that-are-not-Rich approach.

This is it. It's over. This is why you don't volunteer for shit, this is why you don't be a hero, this is why when adventure calls you need to tell adventure to get out of your yard and go fuck itself before you call the cops.

It's now that heroes think noble and brave things, like "I hope everyone makes this count" or "This is how I'd want to go", but Grif?

At least Sarge doesn't get to see this.

He's going to die pinned to a floor, killed by his best friend who has alien brain squids, getting petty satisfaction out of how sad it's going to make his goddamn former-CO. It's a weird, stupid end to a weird, stupid life.

Grif wishes he felt anywhere close to noble or brave.