"Fucking robot goddamn magic crap," Bull growls to himself as he hauls ass through the city. Hasn't had a fight this teeth-gritting frustrating since Seheron. He's barely got his bearingns in this place, has no idea what he's up against or how to fight it, and without his sword he's not exactly great at attacking, not to mention the loss of his suit's capacity from that above-ground flash means he's not about to pull out any fancy tricks or go berserker, either. Starting to wish he really had managed to get himself some explosives. For the second time in the span of days since he fell outta that pod he's faced with the fact that this is an unwinnable fight for him before it's even gotten started.

When it was Clark, that meant friendly concession. Somehow he's pretty sure this demonic metal piece of shit bas won't accept a white flag. But what he can do is take on a support role. Not usually his wheelhouse, but he's seen Breq doing her best to carry Hunk away from the fight. If anyone else gets knocked out by the falling debris, Bull can carry 'em, and if it looks like they might be about to be hit by the regular avelanches of rock and dirt, he's still naturally big and fast and hardy; he'll do his best to take it on his back and let them get out of the way. So right now that's his plan, getting back and getting everyone who can't handle themselves in this fight to safety: "If you can't help take that thing out," he roars at full battlefield volume, "You're with me!"