And Zetta was face down on the ground, and if he were audible the words alone he was using could probably self-actualize a city's worth of clones.

A minion smashed out of a second-story window with an axe, screaming berserkly as she descended at Sam. Across the street, another warrior-type minion hefted a bus to fling it in Lash's direction, while in the center of the road, a rather shady-looking produced a fishing pole from his pocket, faced away from the battle, then whipped out a magnificent cast. The hook zipped off into the distance, then a moment later shot over the opposite horizon, headed towards pro-clone people as if guided.