[I]1%[/I]

Chris felt the tension in his blood simmer down when he plugged his beloved cellphone into the outlet. The frothy coffee drink in his gullet left an uncertain aftertaste, like some combination of freshly chewed fingernails and dollar bills.

[I]2%[/I]

Should he message Letitia? He should probably at least say something, he thought. Or maybe that'd seem a bit desperate. He felt his stomach rumble. Maybe he should've gotten something to eat.

[I]3%[/I]

A quick press of the power button brought his phone online and, like that he was off to the races. He fired up his KaZaA collection and blamo, he and his earbuds had a nice little minute to themselves. His stomach rumbled again. But he couldn't really be that hungry, could he?

"Oh," he realized. He wasn't hungry or anything. Someone outside just had their bass cranked up unreasonably high. [I]Their prerogative[/I], he thought before turning up his own volume.

[I]2%[/I]

The outlet wasn't feeding him juice fast enough. Fretting with the cable, he tried unplugging it and plugging it back in. The dollar store cables couldn't really be [I]that[/I] low quality. [I]Could they?[/I]

[I]1%[/I]

"Motherfucker," he hissed as he bit into his tongue when a searing wave of salt crashed on his back, coinciding with the alien bass drop. Ripping out his earbuds, he spun around to take a look at whatever klutz had spilled their little snack attack on his back. No klutz at all. [I]That was on purpose![/I]

Chris had barely sorted his earbuds back into his pocket when he saw Henry Olin, a bona fide leviathan, going head to head with a giant rock monster, just like the book of Revelation had foretold, except the feet weren't made of clay and, for that matter, didn't seem to have any feet in the first place, and it didn't have much of anything to do with anything in the book of Revelation.

Dumbfounded, he looked around at everyone hiding under the tables, considering doing so himself, amazed at his own lack of situational awareness. It might be best to just sneak out the back and continue walking home. He didn't have his leopard hunting gear on him, not that he thought it'd do much good, and he didn't really have the sort of strength or durability that Olin did. The last thing he needed was to be interrogated by the ASA for shit he had nothing to do with.

There was, after all, a much more obvious course for him to take, after all. But if he did coat the thing in his blazing hot brimstream, it seemed extremely risky that everyone else might be caught in the
[Center][h3][Color=OrangeRed]CROSSFIRE™[/Color][/h3][/Center]

But standing around while Henry was casually murdered by a rock monster didn't quite sit right with him. He had to do something. Even if it was something stupid. Diving over the Mooncash counter and into the kitchen, he found himself a bag of sugar, unsleeving a stack of cups, and made a thick mess with his brimstream in a process that took an uncomfortably long minute but, after stirring the concoction together, he had fashioned several round bricks full of highly sticky, flammable material. Maybe capable of slowing the stone beast down. Probably not. But accidentally immolating Henry was probably better than watching him die.

Sneaking through Mooncash's shattered front door, Chris crept into the street behind the sluggish melee, as Henry grunted "BUSY. HELP." However, by the time Chris actually made it outside, the beast had made its way towards Saturday Comics, which it disrespected more thoroughly than the people whose regular patronage had kept it afloat. In an attempt to see what would happen, Chris rolled his sugar mix and cast the incendiary cocktail at its feet, igniting it and creating a repugnantly saccharine smokescreen with a fire at its heart, melting asphalt onto the beast's base.