He stopped spinning and retracted his leg, apparently unfazed after the dizzying act of spinning like a top.
However his sense of balance works, it’s probably not the conventional human way.
I saw my bugs tugging the baton, but Mannequin spotted them at the same time. He stepped back and placed one foot on top of it. With a kick, he sent it sliding across the floor, away from me.
Welp.
Fuck.
Also an appropriate response.
I’d have to take the slightly less efficient route. I grabbed a stout two-by-four as I stood. It was old, dusty, damaged by years of exposure, and the screws that clustered in one end were rusted.
Huh. It was actually lucky that she just got tossed into the timeout corner, where bad and naughty planks are sent to atone for their sins.
Better than nothing, as weapons went.
Absolutely.
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