Sting + Timing

One section of bugs were caught, trapped in a loop.

“A miss.  Phooey.  There!”

Another section of bugs frozen.

And Foil shrieked.

Shrieked again.

Shrieked again.

A loop.

Parian’s own scream joined Foil’s, but there was no loop there.

“Gotcha,” Gray Boy said.

Weaver hung her head.

“We’re going to walk out of here,” Jack said.  “In… about five minutes.  We’ll freeze everyone we see.  Tell them to run if you want.  It won’t matter.”

Foil’s screams continued.  Each the same length, with variations on the tail end, as she managed to reassert control over the bodily impulse that was being performed anew each time.

***

Foil’s screams continued, and were soon joined by Jack’s, as Gray Boy started using his knife, reaching within the field.

Up until the moment Foil, still screaming, using her augmented sense of timing to measure the length of each scream, stepped around the monochrome field he’d cast just in front of her.  She threw a handful of darts through the Siberian and Gray Boy’s head as his back was turned.

The Siberian flickered out of existence as Gray Boy collapsed.

Neither reappeared, healthy or otherwise.