There seemed to be an internal battle with Scotty; he held his head as if trying to keep it in one piece. Perhaps if he was preoccupied, Sprite might be able to get in a shot. She didn’t want to kill him, but did she have any other choice?

Taking aim, Sprite fired several shots at his exposed limbs. Scotty didn’t seem to even notice, but his armor did, thin veins extending and deflecting each shot. Sprite readied herself for a return attack, but there was none.

“Scotty,” she yelled. He didn’t respond. “Scotty, let me help you.”

Still nothing.