[Charlie tightens his fingers on Chloe's shirt, knuckles white. He makes a low, dangerous noise - the corner of his mouth pulling at something of a grin before it flickers away entirely. He's got Chloe practically vibrating with rage under his hand, Tempest ready to claw her way through the ceiling, two Initiative employees waiting to see where things fall--]

Someone hasn't done their homework. [Maybe if he hadn't decided so certainly on this course of action, that tenor of Kang's voice might have more effect. But he's got a gun in his hand and these are the same conversations he'd had for the past four days, on and off the network. If no one's listening to the things they have to say, then he's tired of talking.] If you're just going to repeat what everyone else has said, ignore the points we've made in return - the fact that we've done but momentarily inconvenience you in the pursuit of doing something to actually get us back to the bloody planet along with some future reassurance that we won't wind right back in this same situation because of an organization that can't even remember their fucking mistakes? Then that's up to you.

[He reaffirms his grip on the handgun.] But I am done talking to people who find a few locked doors justification for murder. If you're not going to give us amnesty, you'll grant us a fair trial and protection from the people among your ranks who would rather vent us into space without a word in edgewise.

[A beat, then:] And you'll find someone to bring Seviilia Brightwing back to life.