--Wait, no. There are people with lots of weaponry in the shadows. Sorry.
River's gun drops to line up with a guard's forehead: three shots, bangbangbang melding into one rapid roar, as she fans the hammer and ducks behind a filing cabinet. Her small face is pale, intent, and full of nothing but a sharp deadly focus.
Spike could watch River all day, and if there's anything left of the security cameras when it all goes down, he just might. With freeze frame and privacy.
But for now he's got an elbow mostly through the larynx of another guard who made the novice mistake -- look where the bloody bullet came from, not where it went. Not that the bit of empty air that used to contain River would tell him much.
Spike bends down to steal the bloke's rent-a-cop hat. Not likely to fool anyone for long, but you never know your luck. A bullet -- no, an arrow -- passes over his back by a matter of a foot or so.
Harth is grinning as he slips through, entirely too happy to be going into a fight, even if he can tell right off that nope - no Mel here. No scythe, either, not anywhere close, but that's okay. He's here with another lurk, and that girl's carrying actual antiques, and using them in a manner he can't help but enjoy. A guard raises a crossbow at him as he saunters further in, thoughtfully, and makes the mistake of seeing a kid, not an intruder.
He fires anyway, of course - Wolfram and Hart have pretty solid views on leniency. Namely: it's a bad, bad thing, and must be stopped. But the momentary hesitation is quite enough for Harth to dive at him head-on with a low, gleeful chuckle. Harth grabs the bow, twisting it from his hands to use as a weapon, and the guy makes a choked sound as ribs crack before his head smacks hard against the wall.
The last group of zhirelin they faced left one of their number to play Horatius-at-the-bridge in a doorway, and were gone by the time they got through.
This stretch of hallway is -- or appears -- entirely deserted.
And we all know how trustworthy appearances are around this place.
Spike and River, stalking down the hall with quick scanning glances at doors and walls, look... well, more relaxed than you'd expect of people in the heart of enemy territory, as a matter of fact.
But only in that predator conserving energy sort of way.
They're down to the second sublevel and haven't encountered any attackers yet, but enough of the sound of battle is carrying to create a subliminal feeling of wrongness in the air, a pressure like a storm breaking overhead.
"We are not going back," Juliet says harshly. "We were assigned this area and we're sticking to our assignment until we hear otherwise--"
"How are we supposed to hear otherwise?" Amy demands. "The walkie-talkies aren't working, the phones aren't working, they could need our help and not be able to call us --"
Comments 99
--Wait, no. There are people with lots of weaponry in the shadows. Sorry.
River's gun drops to line up with a guard's forehead: three shots, bangbangbang melding into one rapid roar, as she fans the hammer and ducks behind a filing cabinet. Her small face is pale, intent, and full of nothing but a sharp deadly focus.
Reply
But for now he's got an elbow mostly through the larynx of another guard who made the novice mistake -- look where the bloody bullet came from, not where it went. Not that the bit of empty air that used to contain River would tell him much.
Spike bends down to steal the bloke's rent-a-cop hat. Not likely to fool anyone for long, but you never know your luck. A bullet -- no, an arrow -- passes over his back by a matter of a foot or so.
Reply
He fires anyway, of course - Wolfram and Hart have pretty solid views on leniency. Namely: it's a bad, bad thing, and must be stopped. But the momentary hesitation is quite enough for Harth to dive at him head-on with a low, gleeful chuckle. Harth grabs the bow, twisting it from his hands to use as a weapon, and the guy makes a choked sound as ribs crack before his head smacks hard against the wall.
Reply
Nightsticks come out, and heavy wooden stakes spring out of their far ends.
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The last group of zhirelin they faced left one of their number to play Horatius-at-the-bridge in a doorway, and were gone by the time they got through.
This stretch of hallway is -- or appears -- entirely deserted.
Reply
Spike and River, stalking down the hall with quick scanning glances at doors and walls, look... well, more relaxed than you'd expect of people in the heart of enemy territory, as a matter of fact.
But only in that predator conserving energy sort of way.
Reply
Spike holds up a hand and mutters "Hang on," slowing before one of the doors.
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And then again, to the wall between herself and the room Spike's just entered.
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They're down to the second sublevel and haven't encountered any attackers yet, but enough of the sound of battle is carrying to create a subliminal feeling of wrongness in the air, a pressure like a storm breaking overhead.
"Let's go back," Amy says abruptly.
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She doesn't want to stay away fromthe battle, but sh also doesn't want to bring back more people for the other side.
"Yeah," she agrees out loud, and turns to go back.
Before she stops suddenly, and looks back, in the direction they were headed.
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"How are we supposed to hear otherwise?" Amy demands. "The walkie-talkies aren't working, the phones aren't working, they could need our help and not be able to call us --"
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"My guys've other ways of letting me know I'm needed."
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