When Kirina found Oliver, he was a sight to be seen: His body lay limp and motionless amongst an assortment of fishery equipment.
One arm was entangled in a wiry net, old, frayed and wrapped so tightly around his elbow that even his armour seemed to have torn, earning him a nasty wound upon impact. That hand was twitching, pathetically. 
His visor was cracked to the point of potentially shattering, too, its red glow demoted to a simple flicker, and its once smooth surface structure fractured to the point of better resembling a mosaic.
When Kira reached him, he was struggling to maintain consciousness. 
“No… Kira…” he rasped, in a voice far coarser than his own, “The people… help the people… help the…”

Fortunately for him, his team didn’t seem the type to listen to orders. 
Kira had outreached her hand to him, instead: Oliver, however, didn’t feel as though he had the power to stand.
Still, one hand was available: The one that clutched to the crumbling hilt of his data saber, Hauteclaire. 
With great effort, he unfurled his fingers and allowed the dulled weapon to drop to the unforgiving concrete of the floor.
With even more, he reached up, and grasped Kira’s offered hand…
And then it happened.

As though some invisible circuit had been joined together, a surge of energy passed between them: A rush of blue light, which left Kira’s hand and passed into Oliver’s, where it promptly became red… and surged through his suit.
A blinding light pierced the cracks of his visor, and the wound at his elbow, to boot, pouring through each opening like water through stone. 
Then, in a display of regeneration, the cracks began to disappear.
The visor, and the suit, seemed to take the form of liquid, moulding back together as if they’d never been parted: Within moments, Oliver was fully restored.

He shook the net from his other arm, and Hauteclaire leapt from the ground and into his grip, renewed just as the rest of him had been.
[i]“Of course… the suits! That virus must’ve drained my energy!”[/i]
Oliver hurriedly pulled himself to his feet, his strength restored, and firmly shook Kira’s hand.
As she dusted him off, he looked down at the residual energy flowing through his palm.
“Thanks, Blue… I guess I owe you one.”
He wriggled his fingers, “I wonder what else these things can do…”

Red-101 didn’t have time to contemplate this for long, however. 
Just as things had gotten a [i]little[/i] better, they got a whole lot worse. 
Kira had strayed from his side to retrieve her weapon… and just as quickly as she’d left his line of sight, she’d been snatched up by his attacker, and dragged into the air. 
Oliver was quick to leap into action, but lacked the physicality and skill to do anything: He found himself swatting aimlessly at the limb which’d seized her, all whilst more encroached upon his flank.

Soon enough, his attention was drawn by others, as he began slicing his way through a small collection of creeping, fleshy claws: That is, until the loud, unmistakable ringing of a gunshot breached the air, and the world seemed to come to a crashing halt around him. 
He became acutely aware that Kira was falling, and before he knew what he was doing, he was sheathing his sword, and moving.
Instinct had overridden common sense, and in an instant he’d snatched Kira’s halberd, and begun a charge towards her. 

Then he leapt, and with an arcing motion, summoned his hookshot into that same hand. 
It happened in a blur: By luck alone it’d struck a warehouse’s upper-wall, and it’d wrenched him skywards with the same fierceness it’d displayed back at HQ…
And as luck would have it, right into Kira’s path. 
He’d wrapped his arm around her waist, and clutched onto her as hard as he could manage- which admittedly, wasn’t very hard- before both of them shot hurriedly upwards, and out of gravity’s reach. 
Oliver closed his eyes tightly as they did so, and braced himself for the impact…

[i]”Ach!”[/i]
It hadn’t been a… smooth, landing. But it’d involved a whole lot less broken bones, and that had been the main objective. 
They’d collided roughly with the warehouse- Oliver taking most of the impact- before finding themselves suspended a good twenty or so feet above the battle, hanging by a glimmering metallic chain. 
Oliver took a moment to account for everything- his limbs, his wits and the contents of his stomach- before managing an infirm, but nonetheless relieved chuckle.
“Haah… we’re… that worked! Haha, maybe I’m not so bad at this Moderator gig after all, huh Kira?”
Slowly, the two began sinking towards the ground.
“… we’re sinking. Why are we sinking?”

The chain they’d been suspended from was lengthening, producing and more and more of itself from Oliver’s palm as it slowly lowered the Moderators to the floor. Once it’d done so, it quickly dissolved into a cloud of data.
But instead of returning to Oliver, it instead rushed to Kira, synthesising with her suit, and restoring the energy that the virus- unbeknownst to her- had stolen.
Oliver took his arm from around her, and handed her the halberd she’d left behind.
He smiled sheepishly, “I think I just expended all of my luck for this lifetime. You’re going to need this. And, uh… I guess this makes us even.”
And with that, he turned, and- without another word- rekindled his weapon’s blade, before rushing back into the fray. 

Hundreds upon hundreds of those limbs were beginning to creep onto the mainland, now, climbing the harbour walls hurriedly and clambering over one another as they hurried to escape the maelstrom’s grip, like carnivorous vines. 
Unfortunately for Michelle, there seemed to be no head in sight: Just an awful lot of hands.
“Keep your distance everyone!”, Oliver barked, upon clearing two or three of them in twain, “This thing feeds off of the power of our suits! Don’t let it get a hold on you!”