[Hiro doesn't have much time to recover. the masked man is advancing on him, step by meaningful step, fingers flexing at his sides as the microbots move beside him. crawling like ants, as responsive as trained hounds, they seem to echo the malevolence of their controller and, at a gesture, are shooting forwards to snap at Hiro's legs.
no running.
and no response, either- Callaghan is too busy trying to process everything to formulate proper words right now. there's only the ominous silence, and the tnktnktnk of the microbots.]
no subject
no running.
and no response, either- Callaghan is too busy trying to process everything to formulate proper words right now. there's only the ominous silence, and the tnktnktnk of the microbots.]