Scotty stood, starting to sway, sweat forming on his forehead. Clearly this armor had taken a lot out of him. The armor itself continued to flow visibly around his torso, strands forming, stretching outward, then joining the main body again.

The small man’s eyes unfocussed, and he started to stumble away. Sprite drew a gun.

“Don’t move, Scotty,” she called.

Scotty looked at her over his shoulder, a scouting strand moving out of his line of sight before rejoining the rest. He turned back and didn’t slow his walk.

Sprite aimed and fired a shot meant to graze his leg.