"Stick close," Zed mutters, as he leads the way down the hallway.
"No damn cover here at all," he continues. "Asses hanging right out in the open."
You better believe he'll remember this moment at renovation time.
"No damn cover here at all," he continues. "Asses hanging right out in the open."
You better believe he'll remember this moment at renovation time.
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Oh, this is going to hurt.
The shield protects him from actual contact, but the Oil slams into his shoulders, sending him sprawling across the floor. He lets out a snarl and rolls to bring the XT to bear, firing once.
Only once because the weapon just went click in his hands. Shit. That's not good. And now he's up and running, sprinting really, and damn, can he ever move, while his hands scrabble at his pockets for the extra shells he stored there.
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He switches to the hand gun like weapon he picked up so he can hang on with his other hand and keep shooting.
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He did a quick glance toward Ray, and a grin.
He then started charging toward the oil, "Not today, buddy! Nobody's going down on my Watch!" Blasting it with the proton fire.
He then yelled to Ray, "Hey Jedi guy! Slash this mother for the TKO!"
He then yelled at the Oil again protons and PKE all over the place, "You want a Ghostbuster? You got one pal! Yaaaaw!"
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WHZZplopWHRMMMplopWHZZplopTHUD.
Um.
That's going to be interesting videotape to review.
Hope the MiB health care plan includes partial-conversion 'borg coverage, because Y's now a member in the Severed Limbs of Star Wars club four times over.
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no subject
Suzi is out for the count. Too much hate/fear/adrenaline/battle lust/malevolence/panic/stress/alien nagers and her brain finally said Oh, bugger this and turned off.