The Watchers (Rexcalibur & Nonsensei)

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Rexcalibur

Guest
"So you're sure this... friend of yours can help us out?"

"Oh, definitely! He does this kinda stuff all the time." The bartender replied as he scrubbed away at the countertop. Drunken Cortecs were the worst alien customers. They were the absolute clumsiest, always spilling their dang green goop jello shots and those were the toughest to clean out! "You just need to - grunt - run a quick errand for him first, and he'll get you covered. That's it."

The winged man across the bartender crossed his arms, raising a brow. "An errand, huh? Is that our payment?" His lax grin never faded, despite his incredulity. "I don't know, Crispin. That sounds pretty shady."

Crispin the bartender laughed. He twirled the dirty rag around his finger as he grinned back at his harpy friend. "Hahaha! Why else would he call himself Shady, though? See, Angel - he's freakin' brilliant."

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Pixel Rush ♫​

Loud pop music boomed through the oversized jukebox. Combined with the rowdy ramblings of surrounding drunks, it wasn't hard to hide their conversation; everyone else was thoroughly engrossed with whatever they were doing. Angel, the harpy, took comfort in the bar's rambunctious atmosphere, though his hooded lady friend was muted. Jittering, even.

"Yeah, brilliant, I guess." The harpy took another gulp of whiskey. "But I can't say I'm comfortable. Are you sure he'll help us?"

Crispin leaned forward on the countertop. He nudged his chin in the direction he wanted the two customers to look. "See that guy over there? The guy with the yellow skin. No, the one with the eyepatch and four-- yeah, that guy. He's a regular here." The alien he referred to was enjoying a game of darts with three others, bantering and laughing among one another as all the other customers were. "That guy is a crook. Was a crook. He stabbed an employee at Mallwart because their headlight fluids were too expensive. Got a bounty for it. Ridiculous, right? Well, he talked to Shady and now he's a clean man. ...well not really 'clean,' the jerk spills his drinks all the time and it's so--"

"Please get to the point."

The bartender flinched. He had completely forgotten Angel had brought along someone else. "I'm sorry miss, I didn't catch your name?"

"Florence."

"Florence..." Crispin flicked his wrist, expecting some elaboration.

"Just Florence."

"All right, all right." He held his palms up defensively. "Guess it's that serious, huh? Angel, what'd you guys do, anyway?"

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Beneath her hood, Florence rolled her eyes. Though her winged companion was dressed smartly, open and proud in his appearance, the pink-haired woman was dressed in a black cloak, which concealed every inch of her pale skin except for her eyes and face. Also unlike her companion, she was without a drink.

"Angél," she said flatly, staring at her reflection in the countertop, if only to avoid eye-contact with the bartender. "Why are we here. Why are we meeting here, and not someplace more private?"

The winged man chuckled, reaching for his glass. "What have I told you about calling me that? Besides, Crispin works here. It's the easiest place to--"

"I'm serious. There's too many people. I don't like it."

Crispin laughed as he turned away from them, heading towards another customer with empty glasses. Angel grinned, though kept his eyes on his own glass. "Honey, take a look around."

The bar was expansive, one of the largest in town. Particularly because - "It's an alien hotspot." That much was true. Although Ellenses was a fairly large town, aliens and other humanoids were still in the minority population compared to humans. A simple glance over the shoulder, and Florence understood that this was perhaps the only infrastructure in town where aliens outnumbered human guests.

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Angel in particular was content with their meetup joint. He finished off his glass of whiskey as he waited for Crispin to return. Harpies were rare throughout the region, and in any other location, Angel's wings and feathered legs (talons included) were a dead giveaway. But here, in a bar flooded with other humanoids and non-humans, he blended in well. A winged pretty boy doesn't stand out as much as a beefy anthropomorphic pincer-handed lobster, for instance.

The harpy drummed his fingers along the countertop. A feminine bartender with elephant skin approached him, intending to refill his glass, but Angel waved her away with a smile. Soon enough, his friend had returned with a new glass of whiskey.

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Rubbing his hands together, Crispin leaned closer to Angel and Florence. He glanced around warily before speaking. "All right, look. There's this artifact - this gem, all right. It's big, it's red, it's shiny - everyone wants it. You know which one I'm talking about. The Red... the Red Eye? Or something? It's over at the museum, the one down south.

"Anyway, that thing is heavily guarded. All Shady wants is for you guys to get it for him. You should be able to figure it out, right?" He licked his lips. "And Shady... likes the shade, you know? He's kinda lazy, he won't do anything that requires being out in the open. So he wants you two to get it for him as payment."

Florence maintained a deadpan expression throughout Crispin's explanation.

Angel smiled wryly. "He knows about my family then, doesn't he? I have the money to..."

"Dude. He doesn't want money. He wants that gem." Crispin shrugged. He swiped away Angel's empty glass and began wiping it with the same dirty rag he used to clean everything else. "Maybe he can sell it for more than its worth. Maybe he likes shiny stuff. I don't know. But Angel, he wants that gem - the Red Eye. If you and Florence could retrieve it for him, consider yourselves clean."

"So you're sure this... friend of yours can help us out?"

"Oh, definitely! He does this kinda stuff all the time." The bartender replied as he scrubbed away at the countertop. Drunken Cortecs were the worst alien customers. They were the absolute clumsiest, always spilling their dang green goop jello shots and those were the toughest to clean out! "You just need to - grunt - run a quick errand for him first, and he'll get you covered. That's it."

The winged man across the bartender crossed his arms, raising a brow. "An errand, huh? Is that our payment?" His lax grin never faded, despite his incredulity. "I don't know, Crispin. That sounds pretty shady."

Crispin the bartender laughed. He twirled the dirty rag around his finger as he grinned back at his harpy friend. "Hahaha! Why else would he call himself Shady, though? See, Angel - he's freakin' brilliant."

L0wo7mT.png

Pixel Rush ♫​

Loud pop music boomed through the oversized jukebox. Combined with the rowdy ramblings of surrounding drunks, it wasn't hard to hide their conversation; everyone else was thoroughly engrossed with whatever they were doing. Angel, the harpy, took comfort in the bar's rambunctious atmosphere, though his hooded lady friend was muted. Jittering, even.

"Yeah, brilliant, I guess." The harpy took another gulp of whiskey. "But I can't say I'm comfortable. Are you sure he'll help us?"

Crispin leaned forward on the countertop. He nudged his chin in the direction he wanted the two customers to look. "See that guy over there? The guy with the yellow skin. No, the one with the eyepatch and four-- yeah, that guy. He's a regular here." The alien he referred to was enjoying a game of darts with three others, bantering and laughing among one another as all the other customers were. "That guy is a crook. Was a crook. He stabbed an employee at Mallwart because their headlight fluids were too expensive. Got a bounty for it. Ridiculous, right? Well, he talked to Shady and now he's a clean man. ...well not really 'clean,' the jerk spills his drinks all the time and it's so--"

"Please get to the point."

The bartender flinched. He had completely forgotten Angel had brought along someone else. "I'm sorry miss, I didn't catch your name?"

"Florence."

"Florence..." Crispin flicked his wrist, expecting some elaboration.

"Just Florence."

"All right, all right." He held his palms up defensively. "Guess it's that serious, huh? Angel, what'd you guys do, anyway?"

gJpBNy7.png

Beneath her hood, Florence rolled her eyes. Though her winged companion was dressed smartly, open and proud in his appearance, the pink-haired woman was dressed in a black cloak, which concealed every inch of her pale skin except for her eyes and face. Also unlike her companion, she was without a drink.

"Angél," she said flatly, staring at her reflection in the countertop, if only to avoid eye-contact with the bartender. "Why are we here. Why are we meeting here, and not someplace more private?"

The winged man chuckled, reaching for his glass. "What have I told you about calling me that? Besides, Crispin works here. It's the easiest place to--"

"I'm serious. There's too many people. I don't like it."

Crispin laughed as he turned away from them, heading towards another customer with empty glasses. Angel grinned, though kept his eyes on his own glass. "Honey, take a look around."

The bar was expansive, one of the largest in town. Particularly because - "It's an alien hotspot." That much was true. Although Ellenses was a fairly large town, aliens and other humanoids were still in the minority population compared to humans. A simple glance over the shoulder, and Florence understood that this was perhaps the only infrastructure in town where aliens outnumbered human guests.

nLzr3Ua.png

Angel in particular was content with their meetup joint. He finished off his glass of whiskey as he waited for Crispin to return. Harpies were rare throughout the region, and in any other location, Angel's wings and feathered legs (talons included) were a dead giveaway. But here, in a bar flooded with other humanoids and non-humans, he blended in well. A winged pretty boy doesn't stand out as much as a beefy anthropomorphic pincer-handed lobster, for instance.

The harpy drummed his fingers along the countertop. A feminine bartender with elephant skin approached him, intending to refill his glass, but Angel waved her away with a smile. Soon enough, his friend had returned with a new glass of whiskey.

qMkhlZg.png

Rubbing his hands together, Crispin leaned closer to Angel and Florence. He glanced around warily before speaking. "All right, look. There's this artifact - this gem, all right. It's big, it's red, it's shiny - everyone wants it. You know which one I'm talking about. The Red... the Red Eye? Or something? It's over at the museum, the one down south.

"Anyway, that thing is heavily guarded. All Shady wants is for you guys to get it for him. You should be able to figure it out, right?" He licked his lips. "And Shady... likes the shade, you know? He's kinda lazy, he won't do anything that requires being out in the open. So he wants you two to get it for him as payment."

Florence maintained a deadpan expression throughout Crispin's explanation.

Angel smiled wryly. "He knows about my family then, doesn't he? I have the money to..."

"Dude. He doesn't want money. He wants that gem." Crispin shrugged. He swiped away Angel's empty glass and began wiping it with the same dirty rag he used to clean everything else. "Maybe he can sell it for more than its worth. Maybe he likes shiny stuff. I don't know. But Angel, he wants that gem - the Red Eye. If you and Florence could retrieve it for him, consider yourselves clean."
 
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[BCOLOR=transparent]Zahra took out a handkerchief from her back pocket and wiped off the sweat from her forehead. Working on her ship under the midday sun of this desert planet made her nostalgic for home. There was something comforting about the scent of dried brush as it mixed with the sweet smell of synthetic oil. She took a deep breath, held it in, and exhaled slowly. She knew she should be out looking for more contract jobs. She had debts and bills to pay. But for now, she was in no rush. Patching up her ship like this was the closest thing she's had to a vacation in the past year. She picked up another piece of durasteel scrap metal, held it against one more hole in her ship's hull, and fused it into place with her plasma torch.[/BCOLOR]

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[BCOLOR=transparent]Zahra's ship looked beaten up on a good day. Its outermost hull was pockmarked with impacts from small asteroids and weapon fire, the breaches covered up with patches of different types of metal. Despite its appearance, it was still spaceworthy and fast, especially with the new oversized engine she scavenged from an interstellar cruiser. Only problem was that it now handled like a drunk olifan, especially in regions with higher gravity. [/BCOLOR]

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[BCOLOR=transparent]As she finished patching up one of the bigger holes in her ship, she received an incoming call. She put down the torch and tapped the side of her goggles to take it. It was Stillver, her liaison for bounty contracts. He wasn't exactly the most trustworthy guy if any of the rumors about his past were true, but over the past few years, he proved to be a reliable source of work for Zahra, especially when it came to getting the big name contracts before anyone else.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Stillver was a vorlak. Human and vorlak relations were not the best, since vorlaks looked like reptilian insects to humans while humans looked like the dumb animals vorlaks hunted into extinction a few centuries ago. But unlike most humans, this didn't bother Zahra. She was a starskipper her entire life. She was used to seeing aliens of all different types. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]For some reason, the universal translator wasn't working through her goggles, so all Zahra could hear from Stillver was a bunch of clicking and humming noises. She said she'd take the call from inside the ship and hoped he got it. She couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. It's been over a month since she had a contract. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Inside her ship, she took the call on the main screen in the pilot's cabin. The reception here was much better. The universal translator worked perfectly and Stillver's face appeared on screen, slightly irritated that she hung up on him. [/BCOLOR]

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[BCOLOR=transparent]"Zahra, I got one for you. It's a smash and grab to the tune of 15 million credits." [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"That's it? No new bounty contracts?"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Yeah well, beggars can't be choosers. Ever since the federation expanded to the periphery, bounty contracts have been drying up."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"I'm not a guilder, I don't do smash and grab."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Tell that to Gorbo when you explain how you can't make the five million this month. I'm sure he'll be real understanding of your job situation." [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Zahra pursed her lips. She knew what happened to people who didn't pay their debts to Gorbo. Slavery was the best case scenario. She had heard of people who have been torn apart by ravenous hounds while being hunted for sport on a jungle planet. She recalled seeing a taxidermied human from one of those hunts in Gorbo's office. If only she knew the loan shark she borrowed from was a relative of Gorbo, she would have never gotten involved with someone like him in the first place.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"So, are you gonna do it?" Stillver asked.[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Who's the employer?"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Some CEO bigshot. Refuses to give out any more details than that. Information checks out though."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"What's the target and where's it located?"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"It's a precious stone called the Red Eye, currently being housed in a museum in Ellenses of the Proxima system."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"In a museum? I'm breaking into a museum?"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Fif-teen mil-lion. Do you understand how much that is? Even after paying off Gorbo and my 5% cut, that still leaves you with..." he pulled out a calculator, "925,000 credits."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She didn't like the idea. A part of her knew she couldn't make enough money to pay off Gorbo just by catching outlaws, but the other part of her had hoped she wouldn't have to resort to robbery. But given the fact she's already been late on her payments to Gorbo twice, she knew she had little choice. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Look, I don't have any more work for you so either take the job or buzz off." Zahra put her finger on the touchscreen and signed the digital contract. "Good, contact me on this frequency when you get the job done."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"One more thing," Zahra said before he hung up, "I'm going to need some muscle in order to get this heist done."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]He sighed. "One sec." He typed on his computer. "Found one. A mercenary by the name of Brok. Drop my name and he'll agree to a 50/50 split of the profits."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Is he reliable?"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"He won't die if that's what you're asking." [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Has he done this before?"[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"That's between you and him. You can find him at these coordinates on the fifth moon of Tlelaxia."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Thanks."[/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"Just get it done." Stillver disconnected and Zahra turned off the screen. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She packed up her tools and took off before the sun set on that planet. Before heading to the coordinates Stillver gave her, she decided to scout out Ellenses by herself. Zahra knew from experience that it took more than just maps to get to know an area. Crowded areas, sewer entrances, and back alleyways were all good places where a bounty would try to run and hide when being pursued. Or in her case, where she might have to hide if everything went wrong on this heist. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She landed her ship outside the city limit of Ellenses and covered her ship in camouflage netting. There was no way she could afford the bribe to keep her ship off of the docking books, so an illegal landing like this was the best she could do. She took her hovercar out of the cargo bay and rode an hour through forested terrain until she reached the city of Ellenses and finally, the museum. It was dark by the time she got there and the museum was closed, so Zahra decided to do some reconnaissance at a nearby bar.[/BCOLOR]

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[BCOLOR=transparent]The bar was a little more swanky than what she was used to. The place was crowded, teeming with all different kinds of sentients. Zahra made her way over to the large jukebox against the wall and punched in one of her favorite pieces of human classical music, Moonage Daydream by David Bowie. Out of habit, she scanned the people in the room with her goggles. Many of the bar's denizens were drunk if the thermal algorithms were correct. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Her attention was drawn to a male harpy seated at the bar. Harpies like him were quite rare in the places she frequented, so seeing one in real life was still quite a novelty to her. After giving him a once over, her goggles recognized his face and pulled up a bounty posted on the galactic net not one day ago for 3 million credits. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]3 million? For that guy? Someone must want him bad.[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] He didn't look dangerous at all, but she knew better than to underestimate her bounties. She'd have do this fast and clean before he'd even have time to react. Better safe than sorry. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She pulled out a web grenade out of her pilot jacket and rolled it towards the harpy. After a few seconds, the grenade clicked, the canister split in half and sprayed thousands of sticky strands in all directions, ensnaring the harpy, the hooded person next to him, and the poor bartender, the strands reaching as high as the ceiling. Within seconds, the web started to dry and harden, making it difficult for the two to struggle against their bindings. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Nobody move!" She pulled out her plasma pistol and held out her hand for everyone to stay seated. "This is a dangerous criminal who I've been ordered to bring into custody." Nobody did, either because they were too shocked at seeing the web and the pistol, or because they were too drunk to even care. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Easiest 3 million chits of my life,[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] Zahra thought to herself and smirked. She set her plasma pistol to plasma torch and walked up to her prey, ready to cut out and drag their cocooned bodies to her car.[/BCOLOR]
 
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And out of nowhere, the trio were suddenly caught in a sticky web. Crispin the bartender barely had any time to look at the mess on his arms before everything began to harden.

Both Angel and Florence were on the ground, with the former covering the latter, his wings shielded around them. Harpies were nimble creatures; just moments after Zahra's grenade clicked, Angel sensed trouble and threw both Florence and himself to the ground in an effort to protect themselves from the incoming blast. Which was all fine and dandy, but with the web grenade remnants hardening as quickly as they did, the duo were caught in what looked like a Bazzorp's cocoon.

Harpies needed their wings unhindered if they hoped to move properly. Like a cat and its tail, yanked. Or frozen, in this case.

Zahra withdrew her plasma pistol and ordered everyone to remain put - which was easier done than said, all things considered. Nobody cared about a public bounty captured like this unless they were directly involved.

It was a perfect snare for Zahra. Unfortunately, the bartender was one step ahead of her.

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The stony strands draped all around Crispin's body began to glow. Red, redder, red hot. His entire statued body was already steaming before Zahra could ready her own torch.

One step, two steps, three steps closer, and the half-statue that was Crispin suddenly broke free from his trap. Bits and pieces of hardened web bits flew in all directions as Crispin let out a very late "Arrrghhh, what the heck!?" - and flung himself unnecessarily over the counter top.

He landed right on his back, but quickly rolled onto his stomach and smacked his palms onto the cocoon doming his friend and his friend's friend. At once the encasement began to melt. Arms freed now, Angel too worked to break off the stony bits remaining on his wings. Crispin stole glances in Zahra's direction here and there to make sure she wasn't attacking them.

It's not as though Zahra had a choice to sit back and watch her easy captures escape like this. The commotion, the blast, the bits of stone exploding everywhere caught the attention of two waitresses - twin elephant-skinned lasses who wanted nothing more than an easy-paying job.

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Kallies, they were called. A fairly common breed of alien, especially in these parts. They were exceptionally polite, arguably the most well-mannered aliens in the galaxy. But they were also extremely volatile. And when enraged, their skin spiked, also shifting color from elephant-grey into a furious crimson.

Naturally they wouldn't give a shit if someone charged in to capture their customers. It sucked not getting tip, but they weren't that fussy. However, seeing as one of them was dating Crispin (if you can call their relationship a 'relationship') and the other just spent money on remodeling the now-destroyed counter... they were pretty pissed.

Both Kallies stepped in front of Zahra, easily towering over her by two feet. The younger stood with her arms crossed - one pair over her bosom, and the other over her stomach. The older with one hand on her hip, the other three pointing angrily.

"You! You take fight outside! You take fight outside now!" she boomed, spit flinging from her uneven teeth.

"Out of the way, sweeties!"

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However Zahra was prepared to deal with the Kallies, she was not aware of the harpy's next move until he called it. A chair flung in the three girls' direction. Both Kallie twins yelped and dodged in opposite ways, a lass and her mirror image flinging themselves to the floor.

Being the deft bounty hunter she was, Zahra avoided the incoming chair in whatever way she chose to. Whatever remained of the chair, though, crashed into the yellow Mallwart thief's head. Angel winced at the loud smack, but with his wings and arms free now, he pulled Florence out from her pit and began making his escape towards the bar's back room.

In an instance, the chair came flying right back at them - not from Zahra, but from one of the thief's provoked friends. Crispin yelped and quickly jabbed the air, sending a fireball in the wooden's leg's direction. He had hoped to incinerate the leg before it caught up to him.

But Crispin's long-ranged aim was shit. The chair leg slammed right on his forehead, knocking him down - as his fireball soared right beside Zahra and into the next victim - the burly anthromorphic lobster. With pincer hands. Who was also drunk and also pretty angry to begin with, having lost a game of darts very recently.

Of course, the lobster came running after Angel, Florence, and the scrambling Crispin. Of course. At this rate, Zahra wouldn't have to lift a finger until the damages were done. Until the lobster rushed right into her, knocking both of them to the floor - what unpredictable speed from a seven-foot crustacean!

The bipedal beefy lobster hadn't tripped, though. No, he was screaming. Loudly. He rolled off of Zahra's arm and into one of the flustered Kallies, screaming a pitch higher than any other customer there could hold.

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"Piece of shit," the hooded woman muttered under her breath. She had one sleeved arm extended in the lobster's direction, her palm, wrist, and fingers twisting and twirling in fluid motions. Her other arm was yanked by Angel. Florence eyed the jukebox coldly, then Zahra afterwards. "Your music sucks."

The moment Angel yanked her from her spot, the lobster quit his screaming. "Dios mio, are you mad!? We can't afford to-- we need to leave!" His wings blew open, smacking another customer in the face as he grabbed hold of Florence. Then he was airborne.

"Wh, but what about me!?" Crispin cried from the floor. His forehead was bleeding, but at least he was standing again.

His Kallie girlfriend had him covered from the ground and wrapped her four arms around Zahra's leg like tentacles. Crispin nodded to her in gratitude. He backed away from Zahra now, keeping his eyes focused on her as his fists heated up again, once again pulsating with a red glow. He bumbled right into a table, but then purposefully knocked it over so he would have a shield - not only from the bounty hunter ("The heck's your problem!?"), but from the other like four drunkards who were out to kill them now.

"Awwww dude, my drink!" a green slug-like Sluggart cried out, his antenna-eyes shooting out from his slimy head before drooping over like a McLannod's logo.

In the midst of the chaos, David Bowie sang on his sweet, soothing lullaby.
 
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