Explore redhanded

“Exit plan beta.” The bat hissed and to Pinstripe’s astonishment, dropped a smoke bomb. Well dang. Apparently the possum wasn’t ready for that either and dropped to the floor coughing, having inhaled too much smoke. In the confusion, Pinstripe managed to drag Nate out. People were screaming and flooding into the parking lot, only just their luck, it was raining. That’d make it harder for Mr. Bat if he tried an aerial get-away. Pinstripe noted. The broad-brimmed straw was doing a good job of keeping the rain out of his eyes at least. He’d dragged Nate back to the truck and locked him in and was about to double-back for the other two when a strong hand clamped on his shoulder. It was Jeremiah, his face grave and full of deep shadows. “I didn’t do nothin!” Pinstripe protested immediately. “Wife and I were on our way back when we got a call on her cell from a certain wombat that my boys were in trouble.” Jeremiah rumbled. Thunder rolled above him in perfect harmony. An icy wave of panic