Albert grits his teeth and mentally asks God to save him from boneheaded heroic do-gooders. Of course, that's him too and he knows it, but it's easier to mentally fuss about that than it is to accept that he's fighting the raised body of his fried, that Kurloz had just been sitting there with him watching rainbows flickering across the ice crystals and sharing names.

This isn't Kurloz, he tells himself, this isn't Initiate, this isn't his brother, Terezi's matesprit. This is a monster, an enemy, and he has to keep its attention while Sam circles around.

Albert presses his arm into the thing's mouth, knowingly stepping in closer to those ripping claws but hoping to choke it or break some of its teeth. A claw catches his parka, shredding the front and sending lining and trails of fabric flying even as Albert fails to keep its attention and it turns to attack Sam. Only Sam is ready for it and the resounding impact rattles Albert near as much as what used to be Kurloz.

The beast goes down and Albert wastes no time, grabbing Sam's arm lest he try something else stupid and heads for the tunnels. He knows he's running on little but adrenaline and fumes at this point, but the singular thought of 'away' is what sustains him.

At least for a few yards.

By the third random turn down the tunnels, he stumbles and can't keep his feet any longer, collapsing to his knees in a coughing heap, blood from his mouth hitting the stone and ice floor and his breath bubbled and watery. Not to mention the gaping hole in his abdomen that only hasn't caused him to bleed out yet by grace of the tattered remains of his parka gumming it up.

"Are you.... hurt...?" he manages to wheeze out between lungfuls of fluid.