“Where?” he asked. It was a burly bystander with a thick black beard, thick rimmed glasses and a red and black striped t-shirt. One of my people.
I like this design.
I turned and let go to point. There was a metal frame that had once stood around some equipment. Now it stood empty, just a connection of metal bars.
It’s easy to forget abandoned factories are not just open battlefields sometimes.
So is she trying to imprison him by getting his head stuck between the bars, gambling on him not detaching it?
“Stand back,” he said. I let go and backed off. Without me in the way, the bystander was able to haul Mannequin another four or five feet towards the frame. Another haul, and they were close enough to the frame.
Wooo! Nice work!
I hurried forward, gripping the head, and winding it through and beneath the bars, tying it in the crudest of knots and tangling it in the bars in the process. It dangled, the stump facing the ceiling.
Hey, I guess I was sorta right about his defeat involving getting him tied up with his own chains?
Fifteen feet of chain trailed between it and Mannequin’s body.
Jeez, man, how much neck do you even need.
Honestly, it seems like he should be using his head as another sledgehammer when it’s like this.
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