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Dawn Sugar
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>Make further demands
“Alright, I’m letting him go, but holster that gun. I ain’t dropping the saw until you holster it!
The belenosian doesn’t move, glaring daggers and threatening bullets at you, her pistol still leveled at your head.
“I ain’t kidding!”- You say, lifting your captive’s head further between you and your opponent and drawing the pipe closer, enough for its blades to touch the bovine’s neck fur.
“Just do it, Jeryl,” He helpfully grumbles, defeated.
“Tch, damn it!” The one with the gun says a second later, grimacing as she finally puts the gun back in its holster.
You put the pipe-buzzaw away and release your grip on your hostage, shoving him forward.
“´Kay, come get him.” You say, taking a small step back and then sitting on your back, repressing a yelp from laying your weight on your now bifurcated foot. The pain is making you dizzy, but you manage to push through it a moment and focus on the last scavenger. That green sonuvabitch.
“Oi! Skitters! Got some bandages in my bag. Help me clean and tie this thing up, will ya?” you yell, pointing at your foot.
The stab-happy arkot looks at the shredded mess like he just swallowed a sect queen, hesitating for a moment before turning his head towards “Jeryl”.
“..Yeah, do it.” The belenosian chick motions with her head as she reaches her downed companion.
As Skitters makes good on his name towards you, you scuttle forward until you are side by side with the wounded belenosian.
>Lure them closer, and then
-“Come on, Karl. Up,” Jeryl says once she reaches the two of you.
-“Yeah. Sorry, sis,” her male counterpart says, his tone a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.
-“We.. we’ll worry about it later. Let’s pick our shit and get outta here.”
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