[center][h1][color=red]Brian "Short-Fuse" Muller[/color][/h1][/center]

[color=red]"Me, jinx it? Pfft, what do you take me for? That I'm from Arkansas or something? Don't worry, ya good ol' mummy."[/color] Brian said just as good mannered as Marvin had said to him, continuing their ascent up the stairs and into their unforseenable future. Well, it could have been foreseeable if SOMEONE had just let Short-Fuse go ahead and do some proper recon, ol' Texas Ranger style. Then again, said someone had also most likely saved his life, so he refrained from pointing that out. Instead he finally made it out into the acid rain of the surface, already missing the comforts of the metro. At least for a little while, until he too realized what Prism was doing. Not that he was going to stop her, but he'd prefer if he got a piece of the action as well. 

What he did not expect was for the blue wall to swallow up Prism's bullet like it was bacon for breakfast on a Sunday. [color=red]"Roll me in tar, throw me in a barrel of feathers and call me the King Hen, that's a wall."[/color] Short-Fuse piped in, lowering his shotgun and starting to fiddle with a certain explosive, just checking it was still intact. [color=red]"How much you reckon I can blow that to Kingdom come, Marvin?"[/color] He continued, leaning in to Marvin to whisper to him. 

It was then that the trio of Brotherhood folks appeared from the bank, and their Roman friend started speaking strange again. [color=red]"Hey, why don' ya'll speak English? We have a bank to camp in!"[/color]