And Wrath is laughing, and it's agonised, but delighted and she likes this place, and these people are a challenge. The nanites in her body immediately attack the roots, determined to expel the foreign bodies (and they're definitely highly effective at that, determined to set her body back to how it should be, without anything invading it). Less concerned than she should be, she shifts, feeling the roots tugging at things before the nanites disintegrate them (and use what they absorb from them to heal the damage, and to replicate more nanites to destroy the invading roots).

The roots are insanely resilient. There's nowhere for them to be getting enough mass to regenerate like this, not even if they're somehow tapping her for nutrients, and yet they grow and grow and grow and her nanites disintegrate them and stray fragments dig into the marrow of her bones and grow some more. An adventurous flower sends its roots into her eyes.

That isn't quite so easy, the nanites have started forming a barrier over any potential points of entrance into Wrath's body now. (She's still laughing.)

And there's another echoing shot, aimed directly at the man stood in the doorway, glaring at what Sloth assumes to be Wrath. (He can hear her cackling.)

He makes a vague sound at Lust, that the Sins can probably translate as 'your sister has no self-preservation left'.

The roots that are already inside her body are not impeded by the barrier, and they're getting more resistant to disintegration with time. The flower on her face battles the nanites and mostly loses, but another few plants grow out of her lungs and up through her carotid artery, aiming for the eyes but not particularly bothered about how much brain they have to go through to get there—

—and then the shot rings out, and the man crumples to the ground, and the flowers lose most of their vicious determination. They're still spread throughout her body and growing absurdly fast, their regeneration still keeping pace with the nanites' disintegration, but they're no longer deliberately aiming for vital organs, no longer treating her as anything but a material substrate to grow in.

She tries cutting her way free with her right hand again, and tearing some of the flowers off her body (and out of it), expecting the nanites will, eventually, win that fight.

The rest of the Sins, meanwhile, have arrived. They split apart, their vehicles almost idling as they trawl the streets, vicious grins on their faces, and no real intent in their movements except to find people, and have some fun.

Except for Pride and Sloth. Sloth is falling asleep again, over the back of his vehicle. Pride, meanwhile, is striding directly towards Wrath, face drawn in something approximating pain. She's carrying one whip, and flicks it lazily, partially an almost-nervous tick, partially irritation, and partially an intended deterrent to anyone who thinks approaching her is a good idea.

No one thinks approaching her is a good idea.

The only people in the village who have not yet fled are the ones Wrath first infected, who are still trying to beat each other to death. Everyone else is running away, carrying babies and small children where applicable. (Inconveniently, the ones with small children are usually slowest.) They haven't had time to go far, though, and the Sins will have no trouble catching up to the stragglers just outside of town.

Anyone carrying children, is, for now, dismissed, as is anyone who could pass for a child. Instead, the Sins head directly for adults.

Gluttony looks for a group. (It's always so much more fun to affect a couple of people in a group.) The others aren't necessarily using their nanites, seeming to be enjoying running people down with their vehicles for now. (Avarice in particular appears to be taking great glee in running people down and lashing his bardiche at their legs.)

There's a cluster of a half-dozen childless stragglers a little ways down the road, if that suits Gluttony's purposes.

Targeted villagers try to run faster, and when that fails, some try to turn and fight, throwing rocks they pick up from the side of the road. Avarice's bardiche mysteriously goes dull after the first few swipes; it isn't clear who's to blame.

Avarice heaves a sigh, and resorts to using it as a club. Not quite as fun, but he knows that other fun is liable to follow, and leaving people dazed will suit that purpose as well as leaving people maimed.

That suits Gluttony's purpose very well, and she targets her nanites at one person to the edge of the group, and another to the middle.

Within a few seconds of being affected they will start to feel a severe, unavoidable hunger. They should totally eat the nearest apparent food source, still breathing or not.

Well, that group of villagers is now having a really bad day.

Haphazard patches of rust appear on the sides of some of the vehicles, and panels start to dent and bend, and then the rear axle of Envy's vehicle locks up and snaps in half.

And Gluttony is watching that with a truly vicious grin on her face. (It's always nice seeing someone else be that hungry.)

Envy feels it happening, and hits the brakes, trying to angle the vehicle at the person ahead of him, before pitching himself sideways off it. His landing is not the most graceful, but he's still able to push himself to his feet fairly quickly, and looking around - just because he's on foot, doesn't mean he can't still cause damage and chaos.

Lust is circling wide, slightly more wary of going at speed having seen Envy's vehicle go down, but not all that concerned.

Now that that tactic has been proven to work, the other vehicles go down one after another, rust-blighted until they break. But in doing that, the relevant villager reveals his identity: it's the man caught by Avarice's first slash, lying on the ground bleeding from deep gashes across his lower legs, staring intently at each vehicle as he disables it.

Well then. The others abandon their vehicles before they get thrown from them, aware of what's going on now.

Avarice saunters over to the guy, whistling, and spinning his currently useless bardiche around idly. He steps over the man to press his foot onto one of those gashes. "That wasn't very nice," he says lightly.

The man spits at him and throws a ball of torn-up grass in his face.

Avarice evades the ball of grass. (Look, he saw what was going on with Wrath, he isn't that insane, thank you very much.)

He reverses his bardiche and slams the pole into the man's head, with enough force that even the blunt end manages to split skin. Provided nothing stops him, he'll repeat the action until the man's skull breaks.

By the time the pole reaches the man's head, it's rusted through badly enough to disintegrate on impact, leaving Avarice holding half a bardiche.

He throws another grass ball; this one falls apart in the air, making it much more difficult to dodge.

Avarice straight up drops on the man, and wrenches his head around to snap his neck. (Getting him dead certainly seems like a wiser move than playing more.)

Avarice's caution is rewarded with a complete lack of any plants trying to destroy him from the inside out! The grass fragments that reached him remain inert.

Avarice climbs back to his feet and brushes grass fragments from his clothes. He frowns at his bardiche, snaps the head off, and spins the blade around his wrist thoughtfully, before skipping over towards Gluttony, whistling again. She looks like she's having more fun.

Gluttony is perched on her broken vehicle, humming absently as she watches the people she's infected.

"Think Wrath and Pride are ever gonna make it down here?" she calls over to him.

"Probably depends on how much the two of them are arguing over Wrath's tendency to get herself seriously hurt."

As if summoned by his words, Wrath strolls out from in amongst the village. (Her left arm is still across her chest, apparently Pride hasn't managed to get her to stay still long enough fix it.) One of Pride's whips flicks out, catching around Wrath's ankle and tripping her up. Wrath twists as she goes down, landing on her back, while Pride lunges forward to straddle Wrath's hips.

"Now there's a sandwich I'd like to be the filling of," Avarice leers.