*meanwhile, has been working her way through the next few blocks over with a batch of Swallows (all armed with trusty baseball bats, thanks to a sporting goods store they found)*
*inspects the latest kill (ugh, creepy fuckers don't even bleed)* Nice one, The Steve. Good placement. *holsters her gun and touches her earpiece, joggling her bat in her hand restlessly* Hey, Eggs, we're up to twelve and a cat. Just kidding about the cat. Any luck on your end?