“I could’ve figured something out,” Imp pouted.
Tattletale didn’t have a response to that. Instead, she hauled her gun up and then fired a short burst at Weld.
Fair enough, I guess.
Also, seems Tattle’s gun is still functional. Nice.
He backed up into the wall of flame, oddly enough, and Tattletale stopped firing.
What? Why?
Two of Dragon’s shoulder turrets were now being set to the task of controlling the flame and keeping it from spreading across the lobby, to the front desk or up to the ceiling. Twin jets of chemical spray kept the fire limited to the areas Dragon wanted it.
It’s pretty clear at this point that Dragon is in control of the battlefield.
“Doesn’t she care about property damage?” I asked.
Eh, the PRT can fix it easily enough, I suppose.
“She prefers to keep her data secure and pay out of her own pocket for any damage.
Heh. Do not fuck with a sysadmin.
Betting this place is slated for some major renovations anyways, given the state of things,” Tattletale explained. The foam was inching closer to us as Dragon prowled further into the lobby.
If it wasn’t before, it certainly needs to be now.
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