But Chief was not entirely without his own defenses. Scrabbling through his satchel as he careened through the trees, his nimble fingers found purchase on a familiar piece of cobbled-together machinery. Another steampunk marvel, salvaged and repurposed during his flight. With a grunt of effort, he activated the device. A burst of steam propelled a small, weighted net backward, designed to momentarily ensnare his pursuers. It wouldn't hold them for long, but every second counted.
The Ogres roared as the net unfurled, momentarily tangling their massive forms. Chief seized the opportunity, his new limbs instinctively firing sticky webs that snagged onto low-hanging branches. He swung through the air, a blur of fur and frantic energy, the wind whistling past his ears.
