Riccin drops you, and you hit the ground with a bounce that leaves you staggering. But that's okay, because you're on your feet and already spinning, trying to find the best route to escape.
Where did you leave the sewer grate?
The others are talking, but right now, you don't care. Castor's circling your little posse, peering at each in turn, and the information he's rattling off is what you've got to pay attention to. The drones are still a few blocks over, clearing out the last of the communal hivestems. The neighborhood back there is completely locked down, and you've probably only got a minute or two before the groundsmen start moving over here to start rounding up the kids in the street.
Kids like you.
"These two will be fine." He's been looking over Marduk and Riccin, and yeah, you weren't worried about Mardie: she's like, working for the fishheads, so the drones'll probably just pat her on the horns and call her honeygrub. And Riccin's practically the size of a drone by themselves, so they can't be worried.
But Castor's looking at Pheres now, leaning in close enough that the bighorn shifts. Flatscans can't see ghosts as much than specks, but sometimes they can feel their auras. "But this one's cullbait," Castor announces. "Bring him along."
You puff out their cheeks, but there's no time to protest, and while Pheres might look old as fuck, he isn't big: anywhere you can squeeze, he should be able to fit, too, so you dart over and grab his free hand.
"They're doing a culling sweep," you say, and give his arm a yank. If only you were bigger, then you could just scruff him and haul Riccin did. "Come on come on come on! We've gotta go!"
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Where did you leave the sewer grate?
The others are talking, but right now, you don't care. Castor's circling your little posse, peering at each in turn, and the information he's rattling off is what you've got to pay attention to. The drones are still a few blocks over, clearing out the last of the communal hivestems. The neighborhood back there is completely locked down, and you've probably only got a minute or two before the groundsmen start moving over here to start rounding up the kids in the street.
Kids like you.
"These two will be fine." He's been looking over Marduk and Riccin, and yeah, you weren't worried about Mardie: she's like, working for the fishheads, so the drones'll probably just pat her on the horns and call her honeygrub. And Riccin's practically the size of a drone by themselves, so they can't be worried.
But Castor's looking at Pheres now, leaning in close enough that the bighorn shifts. Flatscans can't see ghosts as much than specks, but sometimes they can feel their auras. "But this one's cullbait," Castor announces. "Bring him along."
You puff out their cheeks, but there's no time to protest, and while Pheres might look old as fuck, he isn't big: anywhere you can squeeze, he should be able to fit, too, so you dart over and grab his free hand.
"They're doing a culling sweep," you say, and give his arm a yank. If only you were bigger, then you could just scruff him and haul Riccin did. "Come on come on come on! We've gotta go!"