Snippet #1733870

Dingo MacAllest, Twin 2. Saboteur.


Unfortunately for his twin, big and explosive could pretty much describe what Dingo was doing. Or, more accurately, building. He hadn't gone with the group for a reason he felt should have been addressed as soon as possible: He was bored and was running low on explosive. So, the mad bomber had locked himself in his bunker-like room and got to work synthesizing some stable bombs. Chemicals heated on burners and various powers were put in mixed jars. He spoke in an Irish accent, something Mark had never inherited. His gasmask was on his face, the air hose leading to a filter in his inside jacket pocket. The fumes could make things ugly. "So, added the detergent, the oxidizer, the primary explosive, mixed 'em up and.....Done!" He rolled a small ball of high-powered plastic explosive on his wooden desk. Dingo quickly put back his burners and jars , fanned the chemical fumes out, and took of his gasmask. He walked out with a smile on his face after slipping the explosive into his duffle bag. He sat with the group, next to his brother. "Hey, bro. Got the bombs up and running, just in case." He looked at him with a rather impish smile. "So, how did it go? Get some loot?"