"You don't have the sense for it yet." Darsby gave a quick response to Anora's earlier question as to why he was sniffing the open air. 
"..Body Snatchers..?" Would be his self-directed answer to her question over the looming threat, his relatively alien origin offering no assistance in explaining her societal slang. After this pair came upon the beast, things may have unfolded in haste.

	The aberration, having instinctually sensed Anora's preparation to catch it, moved only too late to avoid her grasp. After darting to the left, her net would have wrapped its crackling surface over one moist, pulsating exterior. The beast writhes and twitches, squirming moment after moment whilst Darsby neglects to fire upon it. Our frail wizard's arm rises, ready to shoot, though his aim appears to be slightly above the captured entity.

"They're called Blouth's. These are the scouts of their species. I need you to hold it; we're drawing out the nearest Alpha... Assuming there's only one.." As if in recognition of Darsby's dry tone of voice and it's nutshelled explanation of current events, the creature ceases its movements to begin a process of signaling whatever brethren may be nearest. 

	The blouth scout curls its legs into itself, shuddering in paced succession as aberrant croaks slip from its glowing orifice. The entirety of the fiend swells before croaking, deflating as each crackling reverberation clashes with the silence about it. 

"With the doors sealed shut like this, we're facing a pack. They were drawn to me when I forced a quick recovery. If we kill the nearest Alpha, it's possible we can escape through the closest window. The barrier section it's maintaining might cease for a moment." Darsby's voice may hold it's typical level of exasperation, yet somehow he sounded severe. This explanation was meant to give Anora a slight picture of things before it all comes to a head. 

	*Creeeee!* A door several yards behind the blouth scout slowly opens. One trembling foot slams clumsily against the ground just beyond the now open threshold. The thing eventually emerging can only be described as a horror. What was once the female law-holder, the cop we'd previously witnessed in the ER, was now an emergent scourge of the mind. Her entire body was caked in crimson and yellow fluids all the way to the tips of toes and fingers. Her chest was that of shredded cloth and bulging blue tubes tightly wrapped against sundered flesh. Her head no longer rested atop this shambling form, all that remains is one massive orifice emitting intense beams of ethereal blue light from where a neck should be. Small claw-like tendrils twitch and flail all about its upper body. 

"Remember, look away from the light!" Darsby would quickly say as he closes his eyes. Should Anora have gazed into the light, she would instantly feel her mind slipping, as if she were only a faint wisp of mist near an enormous tornado.

	*BANG!BANG!BANG!* Three bullets are loosed from his weapon in quick, precise succession. Firstly, the scout is hit through Anora's barrier. Yellow fluids spray everywhere several yards from them as if having burst from a paint-filled balloon. Next, two rounds are loosed directly into the chest of our freshly presented nightmare, impact causing either clumsy leg to stumble several steps backward. 

"Crap..-" Darsby grumbles as his second target fails to collapse via blind accuracy. "-Anora, get to the closest window and break it on my signal. We'll sprint for your car. I'll be right behind you." His voice, holding that quaint severity, is like the eye of a storm. Regardless as to all happenings about him, he remains only faintly moved from his typical tantrums of exhausted callousness. 

	Darsby relinquishes a deliberate sigh as his weapon-occupied hand begins to tremble visibly. Focus paints his features in narrow lines against an angular surface of sharp cheekbones and steep temples. Slight ebon threads swirl in ethereal spirals near his barrel, some faintly visible magic being prepared from oblivion as the targetted entity in it's proposed trajectory is nearly recovered. 

*BANGBANGBANG!* Three bullets, nearly sounding like one, emerge from metallic chambers. These projectiles collide, yet, rather than exploding with momentum against fleshy surfaces, act as blades with powerful cutting force. What was once a headless opponent is now separated into three sections of twitching mass before one could blink. All three substantial chunks slide for several meters away from the location of impact. 

	Darsby opens his eyes, looking about him. He shows expectation for Anora to be away from his side, standing by the nearest window. Should she be, he'd be obliged to shout "Now!" and attempt her transport through shattered glass. Should she not be, or if our madam followed a separate course of actions, some entirely different chain of events may have been prone to unfold.