Weaver: Detroit

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"Dad..."

A spray-tanned hand gripped Stoneroller's shoulder, steadying him at the bottom of the boat. "It's okay, Son. You're doing a tremendous job. Everyone says so."

Stoneroller opened his eyes, fixing on the face above him: the kindly smiling face lit by the lamp he carried. "Dad... you went away."

The lantern-bearer leaned closer, ducking under the American Flag as it billowed, caught by a stray breeze wafting across the swamp. "It's all part of the plan, Carly. I'll be with you real soon. And on that day, the walls'll come tumbling down. I promise you, Boy."

Stoneroller gripped the hand, smiling up from where he lay. He could only focus on that face - round and fat and glowing with carotene. The glow of a fall evening, with the family all tucked in. The glow of golden hotel rooms, that rare treat. The red of fast food diners, mixed with a little white. A little oppressed whiteness, struggling.... fighting...

"They're laughing at me."

"So mean," agreed his father, gripping Carl tighter. The little boat rocked and nudged its way through the ruined, sunken world. The shadow-brothers and shadow-sisters steered it soundly with their flagpoles, guiding it to the promised shore. "But what about them? What about Sleepy Rhapsody, and Lyin' Breathtaker, and Dopey Phantom, and the Reporter Woman?"

Stoneroller blinked. The boat was starting to rock violently, and the hand on his shoulder gripped tighter. "Dad....?"

The lantern-bearer leaned over him, puckering his lips, whispering in his ear like a Q-tip. "They weren't born here."

Stoneroller bolted upright in the back of the truck, flailing at the people who had dragged him back there.

"FUCKOFASHITYOUCOMMIES!"
 
So on a positive note, Stoneroller is now unconscious and no longer screaming.

On a less positive note, Stoneroller was the one driving.

Just as I'm getting ready to slap the internal panic button and ghost my way out of the truck, Rhapsody is able to do his thing and gain control of the vehicle. Can't deny that the guy can move when he needs to (note to self, get that on video it'll look dope at a higher frame-rate), and we all definitely needed to there. Phantom Friend is out the car and moving to take the wheel as he suggests we adjust seating positions. I roll my eyes from behind my mask and bite back the urge to suggest we dump the man who's nearly botched the plan twice now. Might not reflect well on me. Maybe we shouldn't have let the injured guy drive, but somehow I don't think he was gonna let us anywhere near the driver's seat whilst conscious.

"GAINING ON YOOOOOOOOU…" the road grumbles from outside the car, and I start at the sudden sound. My head twists back to Kid Lemuria as he speaks.
"Thought the whole 'bringing you' thing meant that you'd be handling the tinker-ing and tinker-related activities? Yes? No? You got this, new best friend? I mean you were planning on using that fancy spear thing anyways, right? Yeah? What difference does it make who you use it with? Just say we like threatened you or something. Not exactly far from the truth, given the way--"

Stoneroller demonstrates unintentionally perfect timing by choosing that exact moment to come to in the back of the car, turning my sentence into a nervous hiss of breath as I twist round to face him.

I will ghost my way out of this truck, I swear to God. This is not good for my heart-rate.
 
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Casimir "Phantom Friend" Pangari

Location: Detroit - Street
Date: 2010 sometime.

Interactions:



Seeing as how everyone seemed to be willing to play the game of Chinese Fire Drill, Casimir hopped in the front seat. They really didn't have the time to sit around here, and they couldn't risk Stoneroller passing out in the driver seat again. Hopefully he could be reasoned with. Casimir didn't have much hope for that, though. Stoneroller didn't seem much for words.

Regardless, the vehicle was still running, and Casimir floored it just as Stoneroller started coming to. He did his best to avoid the flailing limbs. "Doesn't matter who, just please get someone to start charging it. There any adverse side effects to whoever hits the button?"

Rhapsody chose this moment to begin blowing holes in the road behind them. On one hand, the holes would make it much harder to chase them by road, but on the other, it made it harder to drive. Casimir has to devote all of his attention to the road to keep the truck on course. Fortunately, the exploding road was probably a good indicator to cars ahead of them to get out of the way, so he probably wouldn't need to deal with non-PRT traffic on the way to the destination.
 
As the road found itself with spiky new decoration, the Kid pointed out the front window. "Take the on-ramp, then head up the Interstate till you reach the wall, that's Breach Point Bravo. Should be thin enough there." He turned to give a look to Breezeblock, and the groggy Stoneroller after, then pulled a cable from his belt to plug into his spear. "Hey, if my captors are giving me permission to operate the device, I can hardly say no to that."

The spear seemed to phase through the back of the truck, and in a flash, the Kid was in the cargo bed, alongside Rhapsody and the drill. He got to work, disconnecting and reconnecting wires as the device hummed (or perhaps, Rhapsody thought, sang) into life. The dome lay just ahead of them, the interstate mostly clear bar a few cars that had been cut in half by the crystal.
 
Hand still wrapped around the handbrake, heart beating madly into his chest at the close call, Breathtaker swallowed and tried to focus on what the Kid was telling them. So Red Tape was an analyst. That didn't tell them much whether they should be worried or not, but Breathtaker supposed it at least meant there wasn't one more cape to directly deal with in a combat situation.

If it ever came to that. He truly hoped it didn't, not with the PRT, at least.

Breathtaker helped Casimir drag Stoneroller to the backseat — and even entirely out of it, he managed to be a burden, the man was fucking heavy — and plopped back down on the passager seat, arms crossed, frowning at the road ahead.

He heard the scream and ducked just in time to avoid being hit in the face by a flailing arm.

"JUST SHUT UP!" Breathtaker screamed to Stoneroller, twisting in his seat to face the others in the backseat. He gritted his teeth to try and calm down again, despite his fist just itching to throw a punch. "You passed out on the driver's seat from the pain; now calm the fuck down. We're thankfully still with the truck intact, but not thanks to you." His voice was still pissed, but at least he wasn't screaming back anymore.

Breathtaker watched the Kid faze through the truck with a glare. He didn't really trust him with this task, but no one knew how to operate the drill. The Kid would need to be involved one way or another.

Rhapsody would hopefully be able to deal with him in the back if it came to that.

"How long until we arrive?" the question was directed at Phantom Friend as Breathtaker turned back to face the road, an annoying headache starting to make itself known.
 
Well, that woke Stoneroller up. And come to think of it, that nice stuff the Doc said about his mom earlier - that was just the bread for a shit sandwich. The filling was something about discipline, and his mom's soul.

You think you know someone...

His eyes now fully open, he stared at Breathtaker, while taking a few deep, wheezing breaths of his own.

And as he pondered his next move he slipped one hand into his pants... reaching around... searching.

His pistol was gone. These fucking thieves. Just like them, to take a man's gun - his rights to defend himself.

Stoneroller narrowed his eyes.
 
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Upon hearing a new sound directly behind him, Rhapsody flipped onto his back to see Kid Lemuria work on the device. He took a quick glance back but could only see the cloud of dust from the last few craters he punched into the road. He pulled up the truck bed door. His hands ached from punching the road so many times. Kid Lemuria was disconnecting and reconnecting the wires, having some difficulty keeping his balance while the truck skidded across the road.

Rhapsody put his hands on the device and held it perfectly in place, imposing his balance to the object so Lemuria had less difficulty with connecting the wires. Meanwhile he was humming a different tune to the one he was humming before. The device that he held was like an instrument that could be tuned. He listened to the device and his hums reflected his intuition of the machine that whirred into action. He didn't know how much it helped the situation, but it was something that he couldn't help ever since his Trigger Event. Every so often, when fine tune calibration was done, Lemuria would use his chance to hold onto something to regain his balance with the sudden jolting of the truck with an arguing group inside, and yell simple commands for Rhapsody, to reconnect colored wires, turn dials, flip switches or press buttons. Rhapsody's hands moved fluidly in the frantic game of Simon Says.
 
The Dome, The Wall, the Detroit Exclusion Zone: whatever you called it, there it was, right up ahead of the party as the Phantom rolled Stoneroller's truck to an easy stop in front of the silvery-hued crystal. It seemed to reflect everything and nothing - jumbles of colour moving underneath the shiny surface. Today, they could make history... though it was up to them whether it was a tragedy, a comedy, or something more ambitious altogether.

"Three spokes." ordered the Kid, peering around the side of the truck to Breezeblock. "Was anticipating that I'd have to make a bigger hole, but if it's just a truck, three will do." He pulled the goggles sitting on top of his hat over his eyes, fixing them in place with a pinch of his nose, and looked to Rhapsody. He withdrew a sheet of pills from one of his many pouches, swallowing it dry before handing it over. The silver foil was printed with the word iodine.

"Probably best to share that. The battery isn't my design, so it isn't playing well with the rest. It'll work, but there may be some leakage." The battery in question sat below the chassis of the repurposed bicycle, nestled among cabling and machinery that seemed to have no logical purpose. It seemed wholly out of place - a modern, sleek, efficient casing sitting in a scrapyard explosion.
 
"Hey, motherfucker! You wanna say something?" Stoneroller yelled at Breathtaker. He sat forward while elbowing whichever immigrant was to the side of him. Then he gestured with his bandaged hand, which hurt... which made him angrier. "Fuckin' pretty boy: you been whinin' like a bitch since we started."

He drew his combat knife. "See this?" He tapped the knife against the rear window, where the silhouette of Kid Lemuria was working alongside Rhapsody. "Stockholm Syndrome, you beta-cuck. Think that little shit'd be cooperating if I hadn't handed him his ass? I GET FUCKING RESULTS."

He waved the knife in Breathtaker's direction. "So take that scowlin' bitch-face o' yours and shove it in your dick hole. I ain't afraid o' you, or any o' you pussy-ass illegals. So make me a burrito or shut the fuck up."

He leaned forward further and waved the knife at the back of Phantom's head. "And YOU - you better take good care o' my truck, Boy. This is a two-thousand-and-eight Chevy Silverado with three-twenty horsepower and a four-liter v5 engi--"

The car went over a bump - probably one that Rhapsody had made in front of the car, because he had already made enough bumps behind it. Also: Detroit. The knife sliced the back of Phantom's ear as he rolled the truck to a stop in front of the Dome.

"Hey! Watch it!"
 
Casimir "Phantom Friend" Pangari

Location: Detroit - Outside of Dome
Date: 2010 sometime.

Interactions:



Casimir turned onto the interstate, peeling off down the deserted road. Not like anyone was going to pull him over for speeding on an abandoned highway. As he did so, Lemuria somehow phased through the back of the truck. If they had something like that, why hadn't they tried to use it on the wall?

Breathtaker seemed to be getting impatient. Not that Casimir could blame him. It was all he could do to ignore the ruckus that Stoneroller insisted on making so he could focus. "We're almost there. Just a few minutes."

As they approached the dome, Stoneroller only seemed to be getting more worked up, and he eventually hit one of the many bumps in the abandoned road. A moment later, he felt something sticky rolling down the side of his ear. Feeling it, he came away with a ribbon of blood on his hand. Hitting the brakes, he turned to look at what the fuck was going on in the back seat. "You watch it! Why the fuck are you waving a knife around?"

But they were there. Casimir gave Stoneroller a moment to explain (if he wanted to), before opening the door to the truck and stepping out. He walked around to take a look at the pair in the back. "The drill ready to go? We're here."
 
Breathtaker punched the door of the truck on his side, letting out a sigh of frustration as Stoneroller kept going on and on, hurling insults at him. Think of him as a patient. He could do that; he was trained for it.

However, he turned around again, unsure if he was feeling confusion, anger, or just incredulity at this point. "Burrito? Really? That's what you get from my accent?"

He was relieved enough by Phantom's announcement that they were almost there to refrain from making any further comment, however. He could take a few more minutes of that. Maybe.

When the truck finally stopped, Breathtaker waited long enough only to take a quick glance at Phantom's ear, see that it was still attached to his head, and pushed the door open with perhaps more force than it was necessary. He was glad to step out of the truck.

Breathtaker waited until everyone was out, leaning against the truck, taking the opportunity to try and calm down again. It wouldn't do him any favours to do this mission while distracted by his anger.

When everyone was out, he straightened himself, sending a look at the strange device on the Kid's hand.

"So, what's the plan?"
 
"I'll tell you the plan, asshole!" Stoneroller yelled while pursuing Breathtaker out of the same door (he had chosen the Doctor rather than the Kenyan Boy as his target). His feet kicked up beer cans and flyers from the footwell, which spilled around the two of them. "You gonna plan not to hit my truck again, 'less you want yer ass handed to you!"

He sheathed his knife then rummaged around his belt while muttering. "Wouldn't take a goddam burrito from you anyw--"

He paused, then spun to the truck and hammered his fists on it (much like Breathtaker had done). "WHERE'S MY GUN? WHERE'S MY FUCKING GUN?!"

Breezeblock blinked at him from inside the truck, noting how Stoneroller's eyes were glaring through her, as if at imaginary antagonists.

"GET OUT!" Stoneroller roared, even as Phantom and Breathtaker walked away from the vehicle. "GET THE FUCK OUT!" He wrenched open the side door and hauled the woman out (she was leaving anyway, but he acted like it was his idea). "You thievin' sons o' bitches, I oughta kick yer asses and send you all back to whatever shithole you crawled out of, god damn snowflake limp-dicked, beta-cuck fuck-boy simping chucklefucks, GOD DAMN IT, WHERE'S MY SHIT?!"

He ejaculated all this while digging through the footwells, seat pockets, and storage trunks in the back of his truck. By the time he was red in the face, there was a pile of items behind him: bungee cords, wrenches, snow-scrapers, broken forty bottles, knuckle-dusters and a snapped flagpole.

Breathtaker watched all this, then felt shadowy figures brushing past him on all sides. It was like he had fallen in a busy corridor, and now there was a half-seen traffic threatening to trample him. He got clear before focusing on the crowd, but the focus brought no further definition. They were shapes of smoke and shadow, roughly humanoid - like silhouettes peering in from another reality, their murmurs unheard.

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Stoneroller called to Breezeblock while handing these Shadow Soldiers various weapons from his pile of junk. "Hey! Reporter lady! Use that shit again. That shit that fucked with the road. Make us some god damn cover! You hear me?"

He rose and strode to the back of the truck, passing improvised weapons to the mob of shadows around him. He glared up at the truck bed. "Twinkletoes! Kenya Boy! Keep that fucking kid working! Drill us a hole."

A veritable cloud of weapons surrounded him now, held aloft by the Shadowy Soldiers. Stoneroller looked over his shoulder at Breathtaker. "Patch up me and the woman if we get hit." Then he cupped his hands around his mouth as the crowd encircled him. "PATRIOT BOYS! WARRIORS! TIME TO BRING THE STORM, BROTHERS! ENEMY'S AT THE GATES! HOO HAH!"

He drew his knife and waved it above his head. His bandage had torn, but the adrenaline rendered him oblivious to the blood trickling down his arm. He ran after Breezeblock, and the shadows ran with him, bringing a whirling dervish of whacky-smacky wrath towards the pursuers coming up the exit ramp.
 
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Telephoto will be too bulky, but I'm gonna need some utility for this. I'm going to want options. Suddenly the handful of lenses I packed feels hopelessly limited, entirely inadequate. Stupid, Allie. So fucking stupid. Here you are, potentially about to make history, and you don't have the right set-up at all.

Okay. Stop. Ignore the voices. Quit freaking yourself out.

I take a breath, then reach for the wide-angle. Good middle-ground, bit of zoom and a good way to ensure I catch as much as possible. Pausing for a moment, I wonder briefly if any of the others would be willing to wear the GoPro. Then I shake my head, focusing on attaching the lens. Stoneroller's weirding everyone out enough already, they don't need me asking strange questions as well.

Stepping out of the car, GoPro rolling and camera slung around my neck at the ready, I'm caught by Kid Lemuria as he chugs some manner of pill before passing me the packet. I blink behind my mask, staring down at the packaging.
"Should we be worried? Are we gonna go all Chernobyl victims? Cos I like my skin, okay? Skin's nice." A paranoid thought ripples through me that maybe he's dosing us with something, but then I realise that I sound like Stoneroller. Who is rapidly becoming my litmus test on what not to sound like. Plus the kid did just take some himself. With a shrug, I pop one of the tablets, turn away from everyone and crouch a little lower into myself. Don't want anyone to see anything of my face. Never know when there's cameras about.

It's not paranoia when you're a walking example of that fact.

I pull my mask up slightly for a split-second, popping the table and then tugging the mask back down. Minimise exposure. Then I fire up the camera, lock the tripod in place to ensure its got a good angle on the drill, hit record. I've just passed Breathtaker the iodine tablets when Stoneroller comes barrelling back towards us screaming about cover.
"You need to stop yelling. We're supposed to be fucking sneaky. You're as sneaky as a Fourth of July parade float that's covered in guns and on fire. Be sneaky. Like this." Without another word I let my feet give up on supporting my weight, falling backwards towards the asphalt of the road. Onto it.

Then through it.

It feels as though I am coming apart. At the same time, though, it's like I'm becoming a part of something else. The particles that make up me and my gear merging with the road, conjoined yet separate. Swimming might be the closest analogy I have, but even that doesn't quite convey it. Swimming, if the water was flowing through me as I flowed through it. And even when I'm out, it'll still linger. That feeling of being here but not here, solid yet coming apart. Sometimes for minutes. Sometimes for days. Fucking hate it, but I'll admit it has its uses.

Best give the crazy guy what he wants. And to be fair to him, he has a point. Cover equals concealment. I like concealment. Around me the asphalt of the road is malleable, ready to be shaped. I begin to push it up, forming barricades and positions that the others can take cover behind. Stoneroller's steps echo on the road above me as he goes careering off elsewhere. I manage to resist the urge to reach up and grab his foot.

I am a professional.
 
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The Kid waves off Breezeblock's question, paying little attention as Stoneroller and the lady charge off to make their fort. With Rhapsody's help, the device is quickly finished, though it continues to look like a rusty pile of bolts. A keening screech begins to sound as the battery is tapped, components beginning to glow with heat as the front wheel picks up speed, reaching a certain Harmony. A terrible grating rattles the team's teeth as the Drill team watch a circle being scored into the shining surface of the wall before them, a great cylinder being pushed forwards.

As Rhapsody is struck by the precision of the tone beneath the chaos, Allie feels something altogether different. The stress builds as she melds with the I-94, which is talking to the I-55, the I-65, the 43, the 69. Meaningless, overwhelming chatter. Logistics routes, numbers of trucks, tourist trips. The walls she pushes forward are enough to hide behind, but would they stop the two trucks headed towards them that the I-94 just warned her about? Not if they rammed it.

Stoneroller's soldiers move with a precision and discipline not seen in the man himself. He is their General, and they are his cannon fodder. Lions led by an ass. Their makeshift bungie garottes and broken 40s lend them a biker's flair, but the others are yet to see if they prove their worth in battle. A battle that is swiftly approaching, it seems, as three trucks round the corner and stop to disembark their contents. The first contains PRT soldiers, armed with lethal and non-lethal solutions in the form of guns and containment foam. Accompanying them is a woman in a red dress, with a red ribbon in her hair. She takes up a position in cover by the truck, a smug smile on her half-masked face as she watches coolly. The second truck, however, raises the tension in the air. A recognizable figure appears from the cab of the vehicle, a hooded PRT sweatshirt and distinctive reptilian carbon-fibre mask visible for just a moment as she opens the back of the truck and moves onto the third. As she does, the second truck shifts its weight as something inside jumps out, six paws thumping into the asphalt in quick succession as a massive, green-scaled reptile the size of a small car follows the hooded cape. By the way the third truck shifts, it seems like there's more to come.

With a sickening crack, however, the team recieve some good news. The drill finishes its work, a huge cylinder of crystal slowly rolling to the edge of the road on the other side of the wall. Huge, lightning-bolt cracks spread from the entrance as crystal flakes fall from the opening. Perhaps the party had an inkling of what would be on the other side: the stench of death, perhaps stale air, maybe something supernatural. It seems just like the outside from their standpoint.
"Huh. Didn't think that would happen. Anyway, there's your hole." remarks the Kid, dusting his palms on his jacket as he unhooks the battery from its assembly, inspecting it for damage. He turns his head briefly, double-taking as he sees the PRT lineup.
"Oh, shit, it's Monitor. And Red Tape. You guys should... probably go."
 
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Casimir "Phantom Friend" Pangari

Location: Detroit - Outside of Dome
Date: 2010 sometime.

Interactions: Everyone



The plan? "For now, we need to keep the PRT off of us for long enough to-" Stoneroller began hollering commands. He seemed to at least have a sound idea for setting up. "What he said, but with less expletives. And be ready to jump back into the truck. We're probably going to need to tear out of here."

As the group moved about their respective roles, Casimir hopped into the bed of the truck, helping the pair connect whatever needed connecting. As the drill starts winding up and the PRT pulls up, Casimir hops down from the bed. He recognized the lizard. But where from? Lemuria's words reminded him. Monitor. Damn, they were screwed if they got into straight-up combat.

But... something seemed off. "Lemuria, you coming or staying? Your buds are over there if you're wanting to drop out. Doubt anyone's going to try to stop you in this situation, either."

His next action would have to depend on the Kid's answer. If he plans on leaving, Casimir would need to borrow his ability. If not, then all was well. Regardless. "Hole's open! Everyone back in the truck!"

Casimir jumped into the driver's seat, and as soon as everyone coming with was in, he planned on tearing off into the dome. They really needed to get out of here.
 
Rhapsody marveled at the workings of the drill. He let himself experience the Harmony that it produced, singular in precise focus and purpose as it cut through the dome. The Harmony of the invention built up and bolstered the Harmony of his soul. He vocalized the music that was building inside him, no longer able to suppress it in a hum, dancing with abandon as Stoneroller's soldiers moved to intercept the incoming trucks. Once the loud drilling was finished and the portion of the dome rolled away, he turned to Lemuria when he made his modest statement that it worked somehow.

The call to get back to the truck was issued. He had been so taken in by the experience communing with the machine he had momentarily forgot the peril he was in.

"Congratulations on making history." Rhapsody said quietly to Lemuria, before jumping back into the bed of the truck.
 
Accepting the pills from Breezeblock, Breathtaker hesitated just a moment before shrugging and taking one, turning around to make sure no one would see his face meanwhile. If they were going to die on this mission, it wouldn't really be because of this pill. Probably. Regardless, he threw the bottle towards Rhapsody.

Stoneroller began barking orders. While Breathtaker's first instinct would usually be to be annoyed at that, the trucks' arrival made him mutter a quick "Fuck" under his breath and just assume his position under the other's orders. He quickly took cover under one of the barricades formed by Breezeblock, making sure to keep an eye on the hotheaded crazy. His hand was already bleeding again, to which Breathtaker couldn't help but roll his eyes but otherwise seemed fine.

At Phantom's words, though, he shouted, "Stoneroller, let's go!" Breathtaker made his way back to the truck, tapping the Kid's shoulder as he got closer. "Thanks for the help, kid."

And then he was inside, eyes searching for Breezeblock on the road but ready to shut the door if the truck started moving.

Or if the PRT came too close.
 
"Oh shit, dude! Check out that hardware. Fuck - they got foam and shit. What the fuck kinda pussies bring foam to a fist-fight?"

"Oh! Oh! Hold up! Babe alert! Fuuuuuuck! Red dress momma in the house! Oh yeah! Work it, baby. Man, check out that piece of ass! Oh, oh, she's smiling. Yeah, look at them dick-sucking lips. She wants me. I'm telling you, man - she wants me! Yeah, I got what you need right here, baby! You're fiiiiiiine!"

"What... is that a.. hold up. Hold up! Is that a fucking lizard mask? Is that bitch there wearing a god damn lizard mask? Shit, they ain't even TRYING to hide it now. What you tryin' to be, pedo?!"

"OH SHIT! REAL LIZARD! REAL FUCKING LIZARD! HOLY SHIT! IT'S GONNA EAT OUR RIGHTIST ASSES!"


Stoneroller suddenly realized his internal monologue had flipped over to external monologue. He blinked and found his shadow soldiers staring at him while they hid behind the barricades erected by Breezeblock. They were like a line of soldiers in the trenches, waiting for the whistle to be blown. Indeed, many soldiers had been instructed to pick up the bungee cords, broken bottles, and crowbars dropped by the shadow in front of them, should they get destroyed.

And boy, were they gonna get destroyed.

Stoneroller then realized he was cupping his own crotch. It was something he did whenever shouting at the PRT. He took the hand away quickly, leaving a bloodstain on his zipper. Then he looked to the shadow army. "Er... hold the line, Patriots! We make our stand here!"

The shadow soldiers nodded, and went back to peering out from behind the barricades. They waited for the PRT to come for them.

"This day will be remembered, as the day the Proud and the True stood up against tyranny! We'll give 'em hell. We'll show 'em all - we cannot be silenced. These colours do not run!"

Stoneroller kept on talking until every soldier was facing forward. Then he spun on his heel and ran the fuck away.

"Hngh! Hngh! Hngh! Wait... Wait for me!" He yelled to the others in the truck. He panted and wheezed, falling over, hitting his hand, vomiting a little, staggering to his feet, running some more. His armour clattered, as did his knife, which he dropped a few times and had to retrieve.

"FUCKIN' WAIT!"

He slammed into the driver side of the truck, one bloody, vomit-stained hand sliding down the window next to Phantom Friend.

"I'm... I'm driving..." Stoneroller wheezed while dropping to the floor beside the truck.
 
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Great.

Great.

Guess being sneaky's out the window, then. My barricades and roadblocks are barely in place when the PRT trucks start pulling up. The steel toe-cap of a gigantic fucking boot currently bearing down on our metaphorical nuts. Best not to be there when it connects. I recognise the one in red as the cape Lemuria was warning us about in the car. And the woman in the serpentine carbon-fibre mask? Yeah, doesn't take a genius to work out who she's supposed to be, as something very large and very lizardy steps out onto the surface of the road.

Barricades and roadblocks aren't gonna do shit against that literal monster. So it's time for Plan B, which is my preferred option when I can't be sneaky: run like hell. Drifting through the road, I pop up next to my camera to scoop it up before darting across to the car. There's a stupid, impulsive part of my brain that wants to check the footage of the dome being cracked here and now, but the moments before a cape fight breaks out aren't exactly the optimal moments for editorial work. What's shot is shot: I'll need to hope it's good enough.

And that I'll actually make it out alive to watch it.

Darting across to Stoneroller's truck I throw myself through the metal frame and into the passenger seat next to Phantom Friend.
"We need the battery. For the big fucking drill. Can't go back through the same hole, gotta make a new hole. If we're not getting the kid, get the battery." I then lean past him slightly to watch Stoneroller pressing himself against the driver-side window. "Also he is absolutely not driving."
 
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The Kid twisted the battery pack in his hands, sliding it quickly into a brown leather satchel before adjusting his cap and taking a few steps away from the truck. "Oh, no, you guys should go ahead. I'm probably in enough trouble as it is, and unlike you guys, I have to fill out paperwork when things get this fucked. Besides, I think I prefer to explore creepy crystal caves in the company of soldiers and giant reptiles than with a bunch of guys who kidnapped and beat me. No offense." He pressed a button along the spear's length, swinging it out behind him and reappearing on the other side of a concrete road divider. "Thanks for not murdering me, though!"

One of Monitor's lizards reached the barricades, the muscular beast quickly snapping its jaws around one of Stoneroller's phantom friends. It blinked its six eyes, seeming disappointed that its prey did not quite have as much meat on its bones as it might like. Broken bottles rained off its hide, a second reptile bounding down the road after it as Monitor carefully stalked behind. Behind her, the woman in the red dress was handed a loudhailer, another small smirk appearing on her face as she brought it to her lips.
"Hey, Mister Patriot. Where are you going? Ignore Monitor and her little pets, darling. I just want to... talk." Her sultry tones carried across the battlefield as she posed and pouted, giving Stoneroller the look. "Just let the Kid go, and we'll have a nice, stimulating conversation, hmm? I can tell the little brat is just getting in your way."
 
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