[Ben mentally ticks down the seconds until the sound shuts itself off. Then he leaps off of the girl's shoulder and hops over to one of the guys, reaching out to dig his fingers into a pressure point on the back of the guy's neck to momentarily cut off blood flow to his brain. The thug drops to the floor, Ben hopping away before he can get squashed.]
One down, four to go. [He looks to the girl in the motorcycle helmet.] Gonna need some help here!
[At least the gang is major-league disoriented by the shrill noise.]
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One down, four to go. [He looks to the girl in the motorcycle helmet.] Gonna need some help here!
[At least the gang is major-league disoriented by the shrill noise.]