Shep's not wrong — they're made of wax. They aren't the strongest vessels on the planet; if necessary, anybody could probably decimate the whole pack of them. The issue is, those wax figures aren't the real threat, it's the incorporeal thing piloting them. It doesn't so much matter if they melt down every wax bastard in the place, those things could just fuck with them in other ways. Double time it is the right call, before those spirits get any brighter or deadlier ideas.
I was wrong about the eye drops earns a sideways grin from Dean, a totally mission-inappropriate wink and finger gun, but it only lasts a second before he's back on task. He just appreciates the satisfaction of being right sometimes, okay.
But also... please don't mention the scuttling thing out loud. Please. That's so freaking creepy, some members of this party have a hard enough time sleeping at night.
"Aye aye, Mistah Vakarian," he agrees pleasantly, just a touch distracted by the shifting around of his rifle from strapped to his back to held up and loose at the ready. And away he goes, taking one careful step after another down the hall, edging beyond the cluster of uncanny valley humanoids in frozen poses, mistrust lacing every bit of his posture. None of them move. Not one. Not a single one. Like they're trying to gaslight him or something. He keeps his eyes on them even as he passes three, four, five feet — at around six feet down the hall does he finally turn to face forward again, only to jerk in an aborted startle when he comes literally face to face with one.
"Son of a-" He chokes, only barely refraining from pulling the trigger.
Mother fucking god damn stupid piece of shit jumpscare asshole mannequin bullshit- He tips it over onto the floor petulantly, and then defiantly strides over it toward the spirit boards, muttering under his breath, "I freakin' hate these stupid things."
No shots fired, no weapons discharge necessary yet, so he shoulders his rifle in favor of pulling out a handy-dandy pocket EMF meter. It's not exactly like the one from back home, he's had to workshop a little, screw around with crystals and New Magic tech from busted hardware pilfered from a few vendors around the city, but it works, more or less. Usually. With some degree of error. Hopefully it's reliable enough to help them pinpoint the problematic board(s) a little easier.
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I was wrong about the eye drops earns a sideways grin from Dean, a totally mission-inappropriate wink and finger gun, but it only lasts a second before he's back on task. He just appreciates the satisfaction of being right sometimes, okay.
But also... please don't mention the scuttling thing out loud. Please. That's so freaking creepy, some members of this party have a hard enough time sleeping at night.
"Aye aye, Mistah Vakarian," he agrees pleasantly, just a touch distracted by the shifting around of his rifle from strapped to his back to held up and loose at the ready. And away he goes, taking one careful step after another down the hall, edging beyond the cluster of uncanny valley humanoids in frozen poses, mistrust lacing every bit of his posture. None of them move. Not one. Not a single one. Like they're trying to gaslight him or something. He keeps his eyes on them even as he passes three, four, five feet — at around six feet down the hall does he finally turn to face forward again, only to jerk in an aborted startle when he comes literally face to face with one.
"Son of a-" He chokes, only barely refraining from pulling the trigger.
Mother fucking god damn stupid piece of shit jumpscare asshole mannequin bullshit- He tips it over onto the floor petulantly, and then defiantly strides over it toward the spirit boards, muttering under his breath, "I freakin' hate these stupid things."
No shots fired, no weapons discharge necessary yet, so he shoulders his rifle in favor of pulling out a handy-dandy pocket EMF meter. It's not exactly like the one from back home, he's had to workshop a little, screw around with crystals and New Magic tech from busted hardware pilfered from a few vendors around the city, but it works, more or less. Usually. With some degree of error. Hopefully it's reliable enough to help them pinpoint the problematic board(s) a little easier.