BREYA: We need to move. Chisulo and Haban can't hold that entry much longer.
MURTAUGH: They're holding? What are they holding it with?
BREYA: Your neophant is soaking up bullets while my husband throws exploding poop.
CHISULO: Ow.
HABAN: You okay, Chisulo?
CHISULO: Armor's taking most of it.
You?
SFX: KAPOOW
HABAN: I could really use a pasta bar right now. But I'd settle for a proper belt of grenades.