But she doesn't turn down a weapon to make that process faster.
Jo nowhere near fabulous with a sword, but she's good enough with a sharp trauma weapons used to smack the crap out of something that need to realize it should die.
Which given a few longer minutes, it begins shrieks and from there the job is much easier, and then it's a large smear of mashed up pieces between them.
He wipes insect blood and sweat from his forehead and onto his shirt, which is becoming less and less funtional. Fortunately, he appears to be wearing an undershirt beneath it; or bandages, it's hard to tell.
Then stepping around the crap. In a bit of it, too. She held the sword back to him. "Thanks."
Beyond the railway they stood on was more tunnel, but the next grate wasn't. It was a stretch of bones, tied with straps and bard wire. A bridge of corpses.
Jo looked at in a mixture of disgust and annoyance. Whether scare tactics or dedicated crazy people, she really wanted to kill someone who was related already.
Not more creepy crawly minions.
"It looks sound enough," she said dryly, stepping towards it and testing her weight on the first foot out.
Jack pauses longer than he'd like to steel himself, but he walks acorss with his back straight and his balance good even when it shakes and he has to bend a knee to stay upright. He won't let his swords out of his hands.
The path ended about as abruptly as it started, except with many more holes in the floor and walls and sigil's everywhere. And, apparently, disturbing in one those the fuck? fashion.
Where the pathway decided to end the water rose, and near a readily apparently ladder there were now half-sunken carousel horses.
"There's your way out."
Relative term that. Way out.
Out was far away to her. That was just more hell world on the topside.
"Clear," he calls up, standing aside for Jo.
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Whatever Jack's doing it seems to be working. The mantis movements get slower while it hisses angrily at them.
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Jack focuses on a spot between thorax and leg, hoping to cripple it at least enough to keep it slowed.
"Save your bullets," he suggests when they don't work, passing his second sword to Jo.
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But she doesn't turn down a weapon to make that process faster.
Jo nowhere near fabulous with a sword, but she's good enough with a sharp trauma weapons used to smack the crap out of something that need to realize it should die.
Which given a few longer minutes, it begins shrieks and from there the job is much easier, and then it's a large smear of mashed up pieces between them.
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He wipes insect blood and sweat from his forehead and onto his shirt, which is becoming less and less funtional. Fortunately, he appears to be wearing an undershirt beneath it; or bandages, it's hard to tell.
"I say we up the pace."
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Then stepping around the crap. In a bit of it, too. She held the sword back to him. "Thanks."
Beyond the railway they stood on was more tunnel, but the next grate wasn't. It was a stretch of bones, tied with straps and bard wire. A bridge of corpses.
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The bridge invokes a chinlift, and a scowl of disapproval.
"Take it for its practicality, not a message."
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Not more creepy crawly minions.
"It looks sound enough," she said dryly, stepping towards it and testing her weight on the first foot out.
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He's not going to risk the weight of two at once.
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It shook and crunched every few steps, but it held.
She jumped off of it, restraining a shudder and looked back. "Your turn."
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"I hope there's another way out."
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She was hoping something dared fuck with them right now.
"Might be. We haven't seen Sybil's body claiming floor space."
Yes. It was caustic and derisive. Her voice hard more than teasing now.
Jo walked onward through the tunnel, pulling her gun back out.
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Where the pathway decided to end the water rose, and near a readily apparently ladder there were now half-sunken carousel horses.
"There's your way out."
Relative term that. Way out.
Out was far away to her. That was just more hell world on the topside.
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"Charmed," he mutters, and reaches for the ladder first. Jo will tell him if he's needed below.
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