Three and Four are going to close soon, but there’s still a gap. He dives between them headlong, hands splayed to hit the roof of Two. A roll, tucked tight, and he’s through with heels intact.
Immediately he wraps one arm in cable and begins hauling. Eight should handle this, but could never make it in time; there’s a pregnant woman up there, and today, avoiding the sitcom trope is up to him.
The car’s heavy, but counterweighted well, and his pull is long-practiced. He grimaces with fierce, wild pride: he is Barnhardt, Lord of Elevators, and this is his domain.