"Donny, huh...." And just like that, Donny was off. Hey, wait a second! Luca wanted to say, but as he followed the gunman with his eyes he saw three more bodies, or.... wait, three of the same b.... what the hell is going on here? The replicating corpses were entirely more interesting than the electrochemical goings-on at the limousine, so rather than inspecting that whole situation, Luca wound up following Donny like a puppy. But he certainly noticed the spreading reaction, and part of his subconscious was striving -- and failing -- to understand the mechanics. It manifested as a surreal sense of danger, as something unnatural -- impossible -- and malevolent. His attention nonetheless was drawn to Donny's interrogation of a corpse which, apparently, was not dead, and had been shot not with a firearm but with some even more primitive stick-like weapon. When did that happen and what was I looking at? Luca wondered.
"I'll spare you the convincing talk about how much longer and more pleasant your life will be if you cooperate. You got ten seconds to tell me information good enough to make me think twice about seeing what happens when a fella takes a few rounds from this puppy in the balls."
He doesn't waste time in conversation either, was the gist of Luca's reaction. He kept it to himself.
The knight -- one of the knights? A knight -- none of this made sense -- appeared to rise from the dead. One of the sticks was protruding from its face, dripping blood. In his hand was a cylindrical tool.... an assaying furnace? A strange one, if it were one, or some kind of high tech...
Luca's musings were short-lived. "Something like this," said the knight.
"DON'T!" Donny's captive cried in horror.
Luca reacted on instinct. He dove at the knight and grabbed his arm, slowing -- but not stopping -- its movement. His thoughts were racing too quickly to keep track of them all. Tesla chemical weapon death death STOP him STOP STOP danger plating death "No! NO! NO! NO!" PAIN!!!
Luca only managed to keep the implement from striking the ground by grabbing the business end with his left hand. But something inside commanded him to stop the weapon. He held on with all his might, with no plan-B and, for that matter, no plan-A either.