a/n: Bright. H.B. and Doug on a mission.
The slimmer man shook his head wildly, a finger pressed against his glasses to prevent them from flying. Surrounding him was a flock of white indigen, previously floating through the sky, now grounded and still. The human pushed his hand through his dark hair, sneaking an extra moment to regain composure. "That flash probably lit up two continents," H.B. said acidly.
Doug nodded, peeling off his own glasses, darker than night. "Ganglion got a new trick. Half a nanosecond, but it knocks every skell out of the sky."
"That's why you need a Pathfinder."
"Pretty much. After you."
Next up: Water.
(not Biahno, not Biahno, not Biahno...)