He saw holorifle slide off her shoulder and her ready it; and even with his brain making sharp deviations left, right and more importantly – down, no thanks to the rude, rude, rude invasion of personal space her thigh seemed to insist on, he pulled out his knife, because he knew that once she’s done blowing holes in ghost’s suit he’d be the one to cut them apart. Not a perfect arrangement – he preferred dismembering them from safe distance, with fire, lights and accompanying sound effects, but even he had to agree that anything was better than the ghosts getting up again, and again, and right when their backs are turned.
Fortunately for both of them, the moment it noticed the hologram which turned towards new prospective customer, even one simple one programmed to act as vendor, the creature let out a hissing sound that could only be described as startled nightstalker in the way of a rampaging deathclaw, and started to pull back.
The Courier used the opportunity and all but knocked Dean out of her way roughly as she dashed low. Butt of her holorifle came up and connected with creature’s head knocking it backwards and forcing it to stumble back. Even rattled with fear as it was, it still whizzed threateningly and swung with its gauntleted arm. She ducked, avoiding it and with a flip of her wrist brought her gun up, pointblank with creature’s head and neck, and before it could react a one, two, three, four shots were heard and a spray of white fluid covered her helmet.
The body collapsed and with a few steps she skipped over it and was up the stairs to make sure no others followed the struggler. And also to close any doors Madre’s draft may have opened. A moment later measured steppes were heard as she came back down.
“I just have to say, you make one killer martini. Now… right, then…. We can leave through the upstairs’ room,” she took several deep breaths and Dean noticed the clear sound of her voice. He pulled himself up from separating the head from the rest of thing’s body just in time to see the woman lower the visor on her helmet and catch the glimpse of a smug, self-satisfying, utterly competent smirk which rang that too-close-to-home bell. It had all the effect of a whiplash on Domino’s mood.
There was no pit deep or dark or hellish enough, for Sinclair to rot in for all the times to come.
F!Courier/Dean Domino - A Heist - 3c
Fortunately for both of them, the moment it noticed the hologram which turned towards new prospective customer, even one simple one programmed to act as vendor, the creature let out a hissing sound that could only be described as startled nightstalker in the way of a rampaging deathclaw, and started to pull back.
The Courier used the opportunity and all but knocked Dean out of her way roughly as she dashed low. Butt of her holorifle came up and connected with creature’s head knocking it backwards and forcing it to stumble back. Even rattled with fear as it was, it still whizzed threateningly and swung with its gauntleted arm. She ducked, avoiding it and with a flip of her wrist brought her gun up, pointblank with creature’s head and neck, and before it could react a one, two, three, four shots were heard and a spray of white fluid covered her helmet.
The body collapsed and with a few steps she skipped over it and was up the stairs to make sure no others followed the struggler. And also to close any doors Madre’s draft may have opened. A moment later measured steppes were heard as she came back down.
“I just have to say, you make one killer martini. Now… right, then…. We can leave through the upstairs’ room,” she took several deep breaths and Dean noticed the clear sound of her voice. He pulled himself up from separating the head from the rest of thing’s body just in time to see the woman lower the visor on her helmet and catch the glimpse of a smug, self-satisfying, utterly competent smirk which rang that too-close-to-home bell. It had all the effect of a whiplash on Domino’s mood.
There was no pit deep or dark or hellish enough, for Sinclair to rot in for all the times to come.