“You gotta stand, T- Skitter. Stand up.”
Hm. Sounds like there might be someone else around besides Grue and Bitch – otherwise he might not have caught himself like this, rule of using cape names while they’re in costume or no.
More through Grue’s efforts than my own, I was helped to my feet. Every movement exacerbated the pain in my chest.
Except it also sounds like next to no time has passed, and Grue seems to be acting like Mannequin’s not there anymore…
I gingerly touched the site of the gunshot. Flecks of what looked like glass fell as I ran my hand over the cloth. Still couldn’t breathe.
Glass…?
Hm.
So here’s a thought that started forming in the back of my head a couple quotes back: What if the bullet was special in some way? Mannequin’s a tinker, he could absolutely come up with special ammunition, especially if it’s some sort of biocapsule.
The explosion had ignited every piece of rubbish at this end of the road that stood taller than the inch-high water level. Grue and I weren’t, thankfully, blazing. My hair hadn’t been ignited either, and perhaps most importantly, we hadn’t been pulverized by the shockwave.
Considering how close you were to the source, you’re probably quite lucky. Although I can’t imagine Grue’s darkness doesn’t have something to do with it.
…in fact I could see the darkness completely countering the shockwave, because it works similarly to sound. In a sense, the shockwave is sound.
It hadn’t been a huge explosion, but it had been substantial enough.
Yeah, seems that way.
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