Date: 2013-02-25 05:01 pm (UTC)
boston_bruiser: (nervous)
It doesn't take long at all for Voodoo to reach a decision. When you hear the word Behemoth, you drop whatever the fuck you're doing and listen real goddamn close.

Voodoo glances at Andrea. "Bigass mutant. We're getting her the hell out of there," he says. "Okay, Ellen, you've done enough," he radios. "Now here's what I want you to do. I want you to follow the tracks back exactly the way you came. Once you get around the bend, we'll be able to cover you the rest of the way, okay?" He deploys his rifle's bipod, setting it on the windowsill. "You two," he says, nodding to Annabelle and Andrea, "pick a target and call it out. That thing smells her and we're gonna need to get the upper hand quick."

It doesn't take long for Voodoo to find a target of his own on the catwalks, a lanky skinheaded youth who looks like he took a wrong turn out of a 60s biker gang, what with his spiked armor and shiny new gun.

"I got one," he says, holding his crosshairs over the boy's center chest. "Skinheaded kid, on the catwalks, holding an assault rifle. He's mine."
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Ellen Park, the Lone Wanderer

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