ArchivedLogs:Beetle Cowboy
| Beetle Cowboy | |
|---|---|
So long, Dung Beetle Cowboy! | |
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
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Sunday A jewelry heist in the diamond district leads to some strange results. (Part of Them! TP) |
| Location
The Diamond District, NYC | |
NYC - Downtown - Diamond District It's late afternoon and all is right with the world. Or, at least it is in the Diamond District of New York City. The sky is clear and blue, the birds are singing, and a light breeze tussles the leaves and unkempt hair. This area has such excellent security, it enjoys a remarkable air of Safety. What could /possibly/ go wrong in broad daylight, in the middle of the Diamond District? Lots of mall stores have plenty of factory churned jewelry bits, but only here do you find the truly high end, hand made, good stuff. It would be the place to go to find an excellent, thoughtful and EXPENSIVE gift. It's also nice just for window shopping. The square is set around a little courtyard, complete with fountain, and upscale food carts. A little strip of grass about 3 feet wide even goes all the way around the circular fountain to give it that park-y feel. The sun is hovering just over the hill to the west, making that street look exactly like the kind of place Gandalf would come riding out of at just the right moment in a book. Anyone with an eye for detail though, or just a leaning toward the suspicious end of life, might catch on to the fact that there are notably fewer cops on the beat here this afternoon than normal. And anyone with an equally well-trained ear, or is just addicted to listening in on the police scanner, has probably heard radios squawking about a couple of giant ants causing problems over in the Lincoln tunnel. It's been evacuated, and it sounds like the cops are getting everything under control /eventually/ but anyone with a badge, and the clout to move around, is eager to go and watch the show. All we have left in the District are the rookies, and the fogies who are just too old to give a shit about stupid old giant ants. Either way, it's a nice afternoon to be shopping, window or otherwise. Enjoy! Nothing could possibly go wrong. Jax may or may not be shopping-shopping but he's almost definitely /window/-shopping -- kind of inadvertently, likely. Not so much looking as continually /distracted/ by shiny! He flits from window to window, all the shinies reflected in the lenses of his large mirrored glasses. He's bright himself, if not quite so much as jewelry -- glittery red nails, red t-shirt ('All my heroes have FBI files', it reads), black capri pants edged in metallic silver, red Keen sandals. Flit! Flitflit ohmygosh /emerald/. The sunlight might not be /helping/ his manic-energy. He keeps up a constant stream of chatter in his flitting: "-- /for serious/ Tony Stark," he is informing his companion, "asking for /bling/. Who even /says/ bling I don't -- I think he was drunk or I'd totally have /stuck a needle/ in /Tony freaking Stark/. But I might anyway. Next week. Hopefully sober." Trib does not look like the typical person who would be frequenting the diamond district. He sort of looks like someone who might be /casing/ it, though. Even his nice clothes a burgundy silk shirt and jeans that look clean and pressed, offset by leathery brown boots do nothing to dispel this image. Also not helping: the way he lingers in front of a shop window, his golden gaze skimming over the sparkly display and occasionally lifting to track someone inside. Every now and then, he looks away from the window, glancing up and down the street in sharp observation. Nope, nothing to see here. "Jesusfuck," Murphy rumbles, the sound deep inside of his throat -- like a rock got lodged down there and is now sternly refusing to come the fuck out. He's currently walking side-by-side with Ash; the grouchy mother-fucker does /not/ blend in with the bright colors of a lazy late afternoon. Singing birds, blue sky, cheerful sun -- as far as Murphy Law is considered, it might as well be fucking /Chernobyl/ up in this shit. "Fucking /sundays/." The man with no plan is dressed in a black wool coat -- /way/ too stuffy for this weather -- and a white collared shirt with black tie. He's also got a pair of sun-glasses on and a cigarette dangling out from between his lips. Unlit, because the last three stores he and Ash have popped inside of have all had store clerks who /very sternly/ informed him that smoking was prohibited inside. Not head-butting them to the ground -- lighting them on fire -- and using the resulting blaze to light his cigarette? Represents an act of monumental fucking /willpower/ on Murphy's part. Seriously; as far as Murphy's concerned, he's being a goddamn saint today. They should erect /statues/. Micah is doing his best to keep up with flitty-Jax, though he is /giggling/ and perhaps shaking his head from time to time rather than seeming the least bit annoyed by it. "That is...quite the story. But I agree, no body alteration decisions under the influence. Tony Stark or no Tony Stark." The slim, auburn-haired man is dressed simply, in faded jeans and an olive T-shirt depicting a Darwin-inspired sketch of finches with technological upgrades like laser eyes and jetpacks. Because just flappin' is for suckers. "An', yeah, I'm pretty sure no one says 'bling' seriously anymore. But I ain't exactly got my fingers on the pulse of pop culture." "I'm sorry, Murphy. It is kind of crappy of them to kick out possible customers, but I guess they have other customers that they need to see to as well, and all that," And some how, Ash is making all the apologies. "But don't worry about it. I don't think your smoking is terrible. Kind of smells nice... well, some tobacco smells nice. I really like a good tobacconist. The stuff they have on the shelves and the smells of the fresh cigars, man, that's the stuff. Some of it smells like earthy honey." His brows rise, but he doesn't really give Murphy a smile, because, well, Murphy's cranky. Don't rub salt into the wound. "You hungry at all? I can buy you a hot dog at one of those carts with the umbrellas. Do you like onions or relish or are ya a straight mustard kind of guy? I swear, you can tell a lot about a person by how they take their dogs." It's hard to tell what comes first, the low, nearly subsonic, tonal thrumming, or the grinding, rumbling noise not entirely unlike if Sisyphus were rolling a giant bowling ball down the street. But it /is/ easy to determine which is seen first. The first indication is when everyone can stop with the incessant, unconscious dance one must do when the sun is hovering at the horizon just /aiming/ for your eyes. This becomes temporarily unnecessary, because that glare is blocked. It is blocked by some sort of massive, round boulder thing. It's hard to tell the details with the sun right behind it, but luckily, it doesn't stay there long. Getting a slow start in the beginning, and picking up speed as it descends that slope down into the square, big as a truck, is a massive, rolly-polly, pill bug. It's never gets going particularly /fast/ but it moves with an inexorable inertia which just sends people scattering. Commence with: The Running and the Screaming. Except for that one lady, standing near the fountain, and coincidentally near Trib's own window shopping. She's got her white headphones turned up to full, and has her back to the western hill. She's just movin'-and-groovin' to her own beats, which is about to include getting mowed over by a 5 ton pill bug, unless Trib can get there in time! "Noooo I don't, um, I don't /ever/ ink drunk people but -- but, Micah, /Tony Stark/. He said that -- that people should still be /patrons/? Of artists? And he's got an appointment next week and /Micah/ what if I got /Tonaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahwhat/." Jackson has stopped his flitting as the sun is blotted out and that large -- boulder? -- starts to come near. Instinctively he is shifting, putting himself in between Micah and -- "... bug." It's too startled even to /be/ startled, a sort of /bemused/-flat tone, at least until he snaps back into life with: "/Ohmygosh/ get her out --" There is, abruptly, a faintly-shimmering translucent /wall/ between the bug and the woman, large and positioned to block the pillbug's downward roll. Jackson himself actively /shudders/ with the impact of giant-bug against abrupt-shield, his body tensing up stiffly. Trib looks increasingly bored, for a potential jewel thief. He's not even paying attention to the window or the shop interior, now. One hand digs into his pocket, fishing out what appears to be a hotel key, and looping the index finger of his half-hand through the ring. He watches the people going by as he spins the key, his eyes narrowing in recognition as Micah and another guy approach his position. I know you, he grunts when they're close enough, and his chin jerks a bit. Zedner. The thrumming pulls him up short, and he glares in the direction of the rumbling noise. Because it is rude to RUMBLE when people are having an afternoon. But then his eyes widen slightly as the giant ball comes into view, and chaos erupts. For a moment, it looks like he might do nothing to help the girl who's lost in her tunes. There's a definite moment of decision on the part of the big man before he growls something filthy and inarticulate and lifts his key to his mouth, eating it in two neat bites and swallowing even as he begins moving towards the girl. It's just a few steps, but by the time he's at her side, his skin is a brassy color, and his movements slower and more precise-seeming as he reaches for her elbow. He doesn't seem to be aware of the wall of light, yet. If the woman doesn't panic, he'll use that elbow to shove her roughly towards the shops, out of harm's way. If she /does/ panic, he'll still shove her. Only more roughly. Murphy's response to Ash's continued talking is just -- well, more surly. He doesn't say much beyond a non-committal grunt at the mention of the smell of tobacco, or of cigars -- but when he mentions hotdogs. Well. "Relish and jalapenos." Because /that's/ the kinda guy Murphy is, apparently. And then there's... there's... Hm. "Bug," Murphy remarks to Ash. An arm reaching out to touch Ash's shoulder very gently. Maybe tug him back a little, like 'whoa watch your step'. Meanwhile, his other arm reaches into his coat, pulls out his lighter -- the one with the Marine Corps insignia -- and, *FLNKT, FLNKT, FLNKT* -- proceeds to light up. Because, you know what? /Fuck/ it. "Absolutely, Tony Stark. That would be...pretty awesome," by 'awesome', Micah /might/ mean kind of hot. "Gotta love the idea of a flippin' /super-genius/ carryin' your art around. He mean patron-patron, like keep Shakespeare around to write you plays patron? That would be extra awesome, because that's awesome plus income!" It is at this time that he catches sight of Trib. Micah does not do 'cool guy' helloes. He does more of a, "Well, if it ain't Retribution Jones, moseyin' through--OHGOSH, is that a massive potato bug?" He helpfully /gawks/ at the lady and the flashy shield and Trib also coming to the rescue. So helpful. "Bug." Ash clams up pretty quickly when Murphy points out the large ass bug, and then his eyes widen more when he sees it barreling down the street. "Shit." He looks at Murph as he is pulled closer to the detective then looks around again, before stepping forward a little more. "I can handle this," He explains quietly to the man beside him, then looks over at him. "Could." There's a pause, and then finally, "Should I?" He'd have to cross the street. "Oh shit..." starts one older cop. "OH SHIT!" screams his bring-your-rookie-to-work-day partner. "OHSHIT-OHSHIT-OHSHIT..." The rookie turns to run, but is still watching the bug and runs /straight/ into lamp post. /pwang/ Officer down. His older partner sighs and leaves him there. He's pretty much out of the way of things anyway. He reaches for the squawker on his shoulder and calls in the emergency. The other few cops around the square start pulling sidearms and yelling for everyone to get out of the area. In the middle, the woman has twisted and looked about to scream at Trib for a 'What the hell, man?!' but she didn't get that far before WHOA BUG! She turns to flee, trips over the fountain edge and topples into the ankle-deep pool. She splashes back to her feet and runs through the water and out the other side. Meanwhile, the giant pill bug has careened off of Jax's shield wall, and popped up into the air. It comes crashing back down on the corner of the shield again, and cuts almost straight south. There's a massive crunch as it rolls over a parked car, and then lodges in the front window of the jewelry store on that side. Alarms are going off everywhere, the strobe light on the outside of the building is going nuts, and the employees are all just... standing there. Because, what? Slack-jawed, dumbfounded, mistiness. Slowed - lose one turn. Back at the top of the hill (remember that? where the PILL BUG came from?) the thrumming grows louder. Unrelated to the thrumming, a massive dung beetle which is nearly half human in it's appearance comes lumbering down the street, obviously the roller in this episode. It's kinda their thing. It's running like a linebacker, chasing after his ball. He seems totally unconcerned by the cops who immediately open fire on him. His carapace is just too thick. But now the thrumming becomes important. Swinging into view is a complicated shape silhouetted by the western sun again. But is it flies in, above most of the buildings in the square, it appears to be a dragonfly with no human futures, the size of a car, with wings of bright azure, being ridden like a harley. It's rider, essentially human-shaped, is the most bizarre of all. A long pair of double wings drape over either side of her mount. Her body is covered in an irregular mix of iridescent carapace, she has antennae, and her abnormally long fingers clutch the reins of her steed in a loose grip while she watches the mess below from 30 feet up. "-- looks like," Jackson answers Micah in kind of a strained voice. The shield vanishes pretty much the moment the bug careens away from it. Jackson relaxes at the same instant, for a given value of relaxed; not tense-shuddery anymore, though there's still a wired sort of /energy/ surrounding him. A faint shimmer-glow that clings to his skin. "Oh, gosh, Micah, those people, we gotta --" Whatever plans he was /planning/ to make are derailed by the appearance of the dragonfly. The glow around him brightens sharply, then fades away entirely. "Oh -- /oh/." It's soft and sort of /awed/. He is, without thinking about it much, drifting away from Micah -- towards that dragonfly, head tipped up as he drifts nearer the ground beneath it. The mess around them appears to be fairly entirely forgotten. The large dragonfly is reflected in his glasses as he looks upwards at it. It takes a good long moment of standing in kind of stunned silence before he even notices the rider. "... Thea?" It's a little bemused, and -- probably, sadly, not really loud enough to be heard up in the air over the sound of the thrumming. Trib doesn't seem fazed by the woman's response because, hey, GIANT BUG. Still, he looks a little long-suffering even as the pillbug collides with Jax's shield and goes airborne. He watches carefully, tracking the ball's progress slowly and wincing a bit as it crushes the car. When the dung beetle appears and the police start firing, Trib shoots an incredulous look Micah's way before he shuffles forward. He winces as a bullet ricochets off the beetle and pings off his forehead, and his brow lowers in a seriously GRUMPY face. A face that is suddenly less grumpy at the appearance of the dragonfly and its rider. It's just enough /extra/ freaky to bring the man to a grinding halt. " -- the /fuck/?" When Jackson speaks, Trib's head turns slowly in that direction. "You know the bug lady?" "You make a move," Murphy tells Ash, still working on his cigarette -- one last *FLNKT* as the screams and panic start to fill the streets -- "And it's possible you'll be outed. So, your call, kid." Amidst the sea of panic and confusion, Murphy's just -- well, Murphy. He actually looks a little bit /less/ surly now. Cheerful days and sunshine? Fuck that. Let's have a little mayhem. Once he's got that cigarette good and burning, he reaches into his inner coat pocket -- fishing around, even as he redeposits the lighter. And produces... a pair of brass knuckles. "Lotta chaos. Lotta people, should move 'em out of the way," Murphy says, head swiveling around to watch that rampaging dung-man-beetle. Stepping aside, all polite and what not. Even as he slips those brass knuckles over his right hand. Then, a brief glance up at the dragonfly; unlike SOME people, he doesn't give it -- or its rider -- more than a cursory glance. Micah spends another minute staring incredulously at the arriving horde of giant insects and insect...people? Jax's moving away grabs his attention right back, however! "Jax! Jax, you don't wanna be out in the middle of the open when the police are shootin' at things with stray bullets an' ricochets an' it's just not a good idea." Micah takes a few trotting steps after Jax, taking hold of his hand with a gentle tugtug. "Who's Thea?" He looks up at the dragonfly rider, gesturing toward her. "That lady...is Thea? She a friend of yours? Think maybe we could get her t'calm all this down? This is kind of /insane/." Because she might be a friend, who knows? Don't judge a book by its...chitin. Ash looks distinctly displeased at Murphy's reply, his face set serious, jaw tight, but only just for a moment. He does more than just get out of the way of the Beetle-Man, he raises his hands to the cops and looks freaked the fuck out. "Stop! STop Firing! You're ricocheting! THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE." He's one of those people. He moves with Murphy to get out of the way and possibly behind a car, because bullets are not his friends. About this time, the ground around the feet of the Dung Beetle starts to get actively hungry. It opens and closes, opens and closes, breaking concrete and asphalt to start chomping down on whatever bit of feet it can get its rocky teeth around, each hole going deeper, each chomp taking the beetle further and further into the surface of the street until he can't move anymore, and then tugs him deeper again. Who knows. Maybe that weird mutant bug is just too heavy. The skeleton crew of police on site are just too outmatched for this kind of thing. Between Micah and Ash making some very verbal suggestions, and multiple, obvious mutant abilities at work, they're done. They have begun strategic retreats, focusing mainly on getting people safely out of the square. Once they realized the insects were targeting the jewelry stores, and weren't planning on ranging too far yet, they seem content with dropping back and waiting for reinforcements. When the ground opens up under the beetle, it roars in frustration. Its shiny green carapace glitters in the light as it crashes face down, and rolls, punching and kicking at the ground attacking it. It doesn't do much good of course, and continues until her voice cuts through the din. With the gun fire gone, and most of the screaming pedestrians escaped by this point, there's really just ambient crunch noises as the beetle does battle with the very earth that has turned against him. In calm voice, which carries well in spite of her size, Thea speaks to it. "Fly, Walter. /Fly/, my pretty." She sounds like she's encouraging a stubborn child. The expression on the dung beetle's (Walter's?!) pseudo-human face is priceless. Walter looks like he /forgot/ that he was capable of such a thing. He twists and yanks, punches and kicks his way free of the grasping earth once more, and leaps his heavy ass into the sky, flicking open the carapace at his back and spreading his wings. The drone of it sounds like a prop plane taking off. Meanwhile, over in the crashed shop, the employees are starting to get a clue. Cue: The Running and The Screaming, part 2. The pill bug on the other hand, has carefully unrolled himself inside the store and is delicately /eating/ items in the display cases. Headbutt, crash, nomnomnom. Headbutt, crash, nomnomnom. Jax's gaze stays fixed on the dragonfly up until Micah's tug of hand. "Wha --" It's only then that he even notices he's being spoken to. "No -- no, I don't. No. I don't know her -- Oh gosh! -- don't hurt them!" This last is what Jackson finally calls -- and that time it /is/ loud enough to make it over the droning of chaos -- when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from OMG DRAGONFLY. He looks at Micah -- looks at the dung beetle in its roiling earth. There is one last look upwards -- it's still hard to judge his expression behind those large sunglasses. He squeezes Micah's hand and then kind of abruptly tugs it away, sprinting instead towards the dung beetle. "Hey -- hi --" He seems to actually be addressing the dung beetle, here. "/Hi/ look -- Walter? Sir? I'm /really/ sorry I just -- really need to talk to Thea, please, if you're going --" he is -- sounding actually apologetic as he stumbles his way across the chompy earth. Straight towards the dung beetle. To try and /climb/ it as spreads its wings to take off. He could -- probably really stand to have some webshooters right about now but ALAS. A rock climber's grip will have to suffice. Trib seems...flummoxed, by GIANT BUGS. He might willingly join in with those fleeing, except he can't move quite that fast. Instead, he turns and trundles under the dragonfly, keeping his brassy eyes on the woman who seems to be directing things. Or maybe he's determining if he can leap high enough in his current state to grab at those delicate legs. Probably not. "Goddamn, kid," Murphy comments, as he hunkers down behind the car along with Ash -- eyeing those sudden holes that seem to be appearing to swallow the beetle's feet. "That's a nifty fuckin' trick." But then his head swivels -- the sight of that pill bug -- /eating/ jewelry? Okay, look -- giant bugs? Murphy can accept that. Dragonflies? Sure. Bug lady controlling them? No problem. But bugs stealing /jewelry/, /that/ manages to get his eyebrow shooting up. "...th'fuck?" But then -- there's a Jackson. Charging for the beetle. And a /Trib/, jumping for dragonfly. And: "What the /fuck/ is that idiot--ASH! HOLLAND!" Murphy shouts, standing up -- charging toward the beetle. No way he's going to get there in time, though. By the time he's in punchin' range, Jackson is already up in the air with it. Or tumbling down. "Catch them if they fall!" Now how the fuck is Ash gonna manage /that/ trick? Fuck if Murphy knows. Micah looks a little perplexed when Jackson reports /not/ knowing the bug-lady. "So...not a friend? How d'you know her name?" He waves at the woman on the dragonfly. Because dragonflies are pretty /nice/ bugs, right? "Excuse me, Miss Thea? I think you're kind of makin' a whole lot of people panic...if maybe you could not...?" It never hurts to ask, at least. But, hey! Jax is /running/ away. That's not fair...there's no way Micah could keep up at a /jog/. He stands halfway between the beetle and the dragonfly, not really knowing what else to do. Then Jax decides to be a /beetle cowboy/. "Jiminy /Cricket/, Jax, you are gonna get your neck broke doin' that!" Standing and calling things out to people: hopefully this is productive. "Good... fuck." Ash just stares at the sky and all the beings in it. "Murphy. I think I'm losing it, man. Seriously. There are giant bugs and Jax just leapt on one and is trying to fly away and you want me to..." He takes a deep breath, steps back further onto the square of cement he's standing on, looks at Murphy and asks simply, "You coming?" And then that section breaks free and starts to lift up. Surprisingly, or perhaps not given its size, the roly-poly has cleared out two stores on the south side of the square and has moved on to the third, just plowing through the adjoining wall when it feels ready to move on. SMASH-chomp-chomp. With his wings fired up and beating the air, Walter squats a little to jump, and suddenly has a passenger. Strong as he is, he barely notices, except for the slight shift in weight distribution, but he can work around that. Walter grunts, and then leaps into the sky, sounding like a single engine from a B-52 bomber, broken off to start a solo project. The lip of his carapace is pretty easy for an experienced climber to grab onto, and keeps Jax safely away from both the noisy wings, /and/ Walter's grasp, because he's not so flexible. He twists slightly on take-off, a little wobbly, and zips over to grab the wall about 20 feet up. He crashes into it hard, digging his hands and grippy feet into the material of the building. He turns his big head over his shoulder, one eye going big when it looks at Jax and then it cries out in a surprisingly high voice, fear clear in its words. "Thea! Help! It's ON ME!" Ew, gross! Thea's eyes go wide as Jax climbs on her baby. But she cocks her head and seems to hear his words, even over Walter's caterwauling. She flies wide around the rising earth-a-vator, staying well clear of them, and circles nearer. "Fly Walter! You can do it. Drop him to me." Walter looks unsure but kicks off the wall and takes to the air again. Once he's up, Thea directs her dragonfly underneath, and Walter shudders. Thea reaches up and guides Jax to a seat right in front of her in the saddle, snaking one arm around his mid-section, the other still on the reins. Then, quick as a snake and just as subtle, she nips a tiny nibble on his ear. Its doubtful anyone on the ground would have even seen it happen. But it would be enough for her purposes. Rising up, Thea calls out, "Let us leave in peace, and we will do so." Already, Walter has flown down to help the huge pill bug roll up, and then he climbs on top, ready to use all his legs like the best lumberjack logroller ever. "Wooah --" Jackson is noooone too sure about this midair drop but -- dragonfly! He slides down with Thea's help, already starting to speak to her: "Oh gosh, miss -- an' Walter, I'm real sorry, I didn't want to scare him, I just --" Nip! "... just. Wanted to talk to you." His weight is sinking back against her, slightly, kind of droopy. Kind of slumpy. "... sorry," he says again, a little quieter, more mumbly. His hands drop to his lap with a little bit of a shiver. Slide into his pockets. His words are still quiet. "I just. Wanted. T'talk." His head tips to the side. The blue wings thrum in his sunglass lenses. And then he quiets. Maybe sleeeeepy. Maybe transfixed by those wings. Dammit. Everything is too high up or too big to get a hold of, and Trib does not look happy about it. He looks less happy when the glitter cowboy takes off with Walter, and he actually GLARES at anything with more than two legs, grinding his teeth audibly as he watches the poor guy get himself abducted. By giant bugs. 'What. The actual. Fuck.' Trib looks as if he might approach that log-rolling Walter and his pill-bug compatriot to exact some of that anger, but then he stops, eyes narrowing as one of the remaining cops looks at him a little longer than is comfortable. Then he's turning, and lumbering off towards an alley, glancing back over his shoulder only once to ensure no one is actually /following/ him. Cops /or/ giant bugs. /Especially/ not giant bugs. 'Seriously. What the actual /fuck/?' "...holyshit, kid," is all Murphy manages when. The /ground/ lurches up beneath Ash. Murphy stumbles on top of it -- croons his head back up at the retreating figure of Jackson -- and scowls. "/Fuck/. Unless you can take this thing on a magical fuckin' carpet ride," he says, and for a moment, he seems to actually be contemplating it. But, glancing at the cops -- and the chaos: "We might want to splitsville, kid." Then, softer: "Jesus, you got some fucking power." What...just happened? Did Jax just go crazy and fall asleep? On a dragonfly? Because...that seems to be what just happened. "Oh! Thea, maybe, you could put him down? Before you go?" Wishful thinking...Micah's question doesn't seem to be heard. Or at least it isn't /responded/ to. That dragonfly just went /higher/. Jax is definitely being bug-napped. Micah is just watching the bugs make their hasty exit, though his hand is already retrieving his phone from his pocket. To start making panicked phone calls. Hive will get to be contestant #1! The concrete at Ash's and Murphy's feet settles back onto the ground with a chunk, a very focused look on Ash's face as Murphy both speaks words of truth and the bugs manage to get around the buildings and out of sight too quickly. "Maybe, but now's not a good time to try." He turns and meets eyes with Murphy, something shaken in his expression. "Let's go." | |
