<strong>HAVEL</strong><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">These cultists, it's almost like they're the walking dead, the way they just stare straight ahead, or sometimes they look up at the sun.  Even Yankee's still got a little of it, even after he drops his part of the litter and it sags down where he ought to be.  He rubs his eyes, shakes his head, even as Morgan's giving him a gun.  Not broken, but shaken?  Yeah, definitely that.  Even with a gun, Yankee's not the most intimidating sight in that skirt, but Morgan and Havel make up for it in spades.<br/><br/>But once the Captain's eyes settle on that guy with skin so black it's like a roast left out just too, too long on a spit, cooking over fire, that's the end of it.  Maybe Havel doesn't notice how, with each word he speaks, things are getting a little dim around the edges of his vision.<br/><br/>Like, maybe that's adrenaline.  Maybe he's just too worked up to notice it.<br/><br/>This guy, leading the funeral procession, he doesn't really seem swayed.  He listens, he stares with eyes empty, burnt out from days and days and days spent staring at the sun.  So when Havel makes his challenge, blind as a fucking bat as this guy is, he smiles wide.<br/><br/>"So make it quick," Havel says.<br/><br/>And just like that, it's like a blinding light, like a flash-bang right in the face or something, just this little charred soul going off like a nuke, like it's the only thing Havel can see, and then he can't see anything at all, just white light everywhere.<br/><br/>Then there's popping.  <em>Poppopopopop.</em>  Morgan's SMG?  Yelling, shouting.<br/><br/><strong>Havel</strong>, this sucks, but fuck if the weird shit in the world can be predicted, right?  What's the plan, man?</div></div><br/><strong>RUTH</strong><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Dutchess is like, "Hey, fuck you!"<br/><br/>Ratchet puts a bullet into the dust a few inches away from Ruth's feet, and Dutchess laughs like it's the funniest thing ever, like there's not a dozen tiny craters out here and not a spot of blood to go with 'em, real intimidating.<br/><br/>"I want stabs!" Dutchess yells.  "And fuckin' stims!  Get me some fuckin' stabs, Doc!"<br/><br/>No bullshit, right?  So they just hang out, for at least a little while, like they're expecting Ruth to present something, but of course not.  She doesn't even have that shit on her, does she?<br/><br/>"You're no fucking fun, doc," Dutchess says at last.  "I mean COME ON.  Play along, fuck's sake!  Put a fucking bullet in her, Ratchet!  TWO!"<br/><br/>Yeah, that doesn't come to anything, either.  Esther likes having an angel on hand more than probably she likes either Dutchess or Ratchet, no matter how adorably profane the former might be.  The gate's open, they're just blowing hot air.<br/><br/><strong>Ruth</strong>, what do you do?  Gonna play along, gonna blow 'em off?  Anyway, if you're heading in, tell me a little about Esther's compound while you go, maybe let us know what you were up to last time you were there.</div></div>