Tattletale looked at me, “Track their movements. The Nine! Don’t lose sight of the Nine!”
Ohhh. They’re a diversion. A crowd for the Nine to blend into, to the extent they can, or to distract as the Nine slip away through another exit.
The hostages scattered in every direction, and some invariably headed towards us. I saw what had concerned Tattletale. Even though I knew where the Nine were, I was still caught off guard.
…wait, did Bonesaw do something to the hostages, too?
Bonesaw’s talents apparently included crude plastic surgery. If ‘crude’ was even the right word.
Why wouldn’t they.
So what did she do? Cover their eyes so they’re all running blind? Nah, anyone in the Nine could blind them, that’s too easy.
Every hostage wore the appearance of one of the Nine.
Oh fuck
Ahahaha!
That is genius!
Well fucking played, Nine. Well fucking played.
The group that headed towards us had three Jacks, a Siberian and a Bonesaw. Their expressions were frozen, their eyes wide with terror. None of them were perfect, one was too heavy in physique to be Jack, and the Bonesaw had apparently been a short-statured woman who’d had her shins and forearms sawed to a shorter length and reattached.
Yeah, I kind of figured they wouldn’t have the exact physique of the Nine, since that’s part of what Taylor used to recognize them with her bugs.
The resemblance was close enough that someone could mistake them for the wrong person at a glance, and that was all the Nine needed.
Yeah, damn.
This is glorious. Horrible, but glorious.
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