They waited there for several minutes, and Scootaloo watched as the clouds of gas started to recede downwards as if pulled upon by some unseen force. Once the gas had made it all the way down to the floor, Scootaloo pushed away from the quivering form of Even Later and took a few steps forward, craning her neck downward to see if she could get a better look.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Later stammered, looking up. She reached a hoof out to grab onto Scootaloo's side. "You don't want what happened to Clove to happen to you."

"It'll be fine," Scootaloo replied coolly, shrugging off Later's hoof. "The gas never even got this high—there's probably some sort of magic barrier... thing." She stepped forward once more so that her hooves rested on the very edge of the grate and, carefully, the filly crouched down.

At the same time, the last tendril-like vestiges of the billowing gaseous clouds were disappearing, looking very much like outstretched hooves as they were sucked down the shower drains. And lying in the middle of the emptying floor was the unmoving form of Clove Hitch. His maroon-coated body was contorted in an odd position that on a basic level resembled sitting, if not for the fact that he had tumbled over onto his face.

"I wonder if they're going to come get him," Scootaloo murmured to herself.

"Who cares? It's not like he's... not like he's..." Later trailed off with a spell of uneven breathing.

Scootaloo looked back at her distraught companion. "Later, we don't even know what kind of gas that was. Chances are that it was just supposed to knock him out. The Bureau ponies sure don't seem very nice, but they also don't seem... evil."

"I guess it doesn't really seem like something they'd do..." Later composed herself. "I've heard of them taking ponies prisoner, but not executing them."

"See? Now, let's get down there and try to get him out of here, hopefully before anypony else shows up. Help me get this grate off." Scootaloo scooted over to the left side and then pushed her hooves into the crack between the concrete and the edge of the grate, and then she gestured with her head for Later to join her.

The green mare reluctantly stepped up to the edge and copied Scootaloo, putting the tips of her hooves so that they could pull up on the side of the grate.

"One, two, three," Scootaloo counted, and on three they both pulled upwards. Miraculously, likely more due to the light weight of the grate than any actual lifting power, the two ponies were able to pull the thing up into the air and together set it down to the side.

Scootalo exhaled, stretching out her limbs after they set down the grate. "Whew... I really need to start lifting weights or something, I can't believe that was so hard." She paused, looking down at the hole in the concrete in front of her. "Anyway... geronimo?" Before Later could do anything, Scootaloo casually side-stepped, quickly disappearing from view.

Thud!

"Scootaloo!" Later exclaimed, turning into a loud hiss halfway through as she remembered that they were trying to stay unheard. Worried, the mare peered forward, expecting to see an orange feathery splat on the tile right next to the lifeless form of Clove.

Instead, she saw Scootaloo standing, looking back up with a grin. "Come on in, the water's fine!" she called.

Later frowned. "How can you be acting so ridiculous when Clove could be dead?!"

Scootaloo frowned as well. "Right... I'll check, while you hop down here. I didn't even have to use my wings; it's a lot shorter than it looks."

"Erm... I'll take your word for it," Later said. She took a deep breath and nearly closed her eyes, before realising that it would do her well to be able to see, so she didn't accidentally land on one of the ponies below. Then, heart racing, Later jumped.

And, almost instantaneously, she landed with a loud thump that reverberated all through the floor, quite a bit louder than Scootaloo's (not so quiet) landing had been.

"You alright?" Scootaloo asked from behind her. Later shook her head, orienting herself before turning around to see Scootaloo with her hoof on Clove's neck.

"Y-yeah, I think so," Later said, looking down at the floor. A few of the tiles had hairline cracks, and one or two had messily shattered into small pieces and dust. "How's Clove?"

"He's alive—his heart's still beating," Scootaloo replied. "It must've been some sort of knock out gas. Now we've just gotta get the guy out of here before they figure out that we're here."

Later looked around frantically. "How are we going to do that? The door there's definitely gonna be locked, and somehow we have to carry him!"

Scootaloo looked around as well and then blinked. "Huh. Let's see..."