Aug. 19th, 2006

[identity profile] gar-logan.livejournal.com
Even flying towards the Armoury is tricky, due to the fumes from the petrol poured inside. But in a way this also helps him, since due to it he can follow the fumes to a knothole, holding his breath as he swoops through quickly, and into clearer pockets of air in the room.

He sees the hostages almost as soon as he gets in, so he sets himself on the wall to the side above them, in darker spots to avoid being seen.

He can see around a dozen commune hostages, tied up and behaving.

Including M-Daisy. Gonna make sure she and the others get the hell out of this room without using dental records to identify them.

Another twelve jerks are busy dousing the place in fuel and getting weaponry from...

...oh...my...god...

On rack upon rack, he sees rifles and shotguns of various types, fifty-five...sixty of those...and enough ammunition...

...to rival a Terminator's! Boxes of a hundred, oh man...ten, twenty...NINETY...?!

But that's not all. Next to all of that weaponry, are two crates from the "Boom-Stick Fireworks Co.", as the crudely labelled painted patches on their sides proclaim.

Flying over and inspecting it more closely, he realises what the look and smell is. Gunpowder and...ingredients Wile E. Coyote would be quite familiar with by now.

Hauling ass, he exits through the same knot hole, and back towards the group to warn the others.

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