[color=a0410d][u][h3]Martín Fierro[/h3][/u][/color]

Amidst the last to materialize was a man that didn't seem to have any desire to undergo the process. Moreover, a single glance at his face would reveal that he was slowly comprehending what was going on or, rather, that his brain was slowly accepting the comprehension that he naturally possessed about this situation, understanding things that he both knew and didn't. Things he was aware that he should be privy of, but also knew that he had no right of knowing. His face clearly showed his struggle to come up with terms with his nature; it was the expression Dorothy must've had when she wasn't in Kansas anymore.

It didn't last long, however, as he witnessed such a degree of madness and insanity that the only rational course of action was to finally accept that he was a Servant and he had a job to do. A rough, tanned hand went to idly caress a somewhat unkempt black beard as he examined the view that was presented to them all. Fierro didn't have much of a gander of it before something else caught his attention: A giant of a man whose head was that of a bull. His instincts told him to stay away from him, as everything about that being exhuded brutality. A killing machine, deep down to the bone.

The Assassin followed the path of the bull-masked Servant with his gaze until he entered the gate, folllowed soon after by a very non-descript oriental woman. The sound of two goddessess one crowd away from devolving into a wrestling match reached Fierro's ears, ultimately making him decide that he, too, should go through that gate. After all, he had to work with cows before, back when he had a family. Before he got conscripted and it all went down the drain. 

A wistful sigh came from his lips, his head downcast to see how he was dressed. How very different things were now, he thought before turning to walk towards Henry Ford. The only person he'd have the solace of an ordinary interaction amidst this crowd of misfits. With a hand on his pocket, he went to him and rested the other on his shoulder, patting it twice then giving him a friendly shake. [color=a0410d]"Guess we oughta get moving to set that camp of yours, partner"[/color] said the man with a friendly smile before moving to enter the gate. He'd take a glance around before doing anything, after all prudency was the best route to take when faced with unknown odds. Last time he went into the unknown... Poor Cruz.