“Are you kiddin’ me? They want us to take these kids and haul after armed bandits?”

“That’s why they sent us, as backup.” remarked Mark, a little snidely.

“I agree with you, Brooks.” Hans added curtly, practically cutting Mark off from any further comment. “Even the most capable people in this group don’t have the training or experience for something like this. At Goodnight, I objected to this idea.”

“So did I, at first.” the shorter man continued, “but as much as I hate to say it and as fucked as the situation is, there’s just no other mother fucker who can even respond right now - and these new bloods already have a reputation, given their rescues.”

“Ja. This isn’t good, but it is the best we have. And people will die without the insulin.”

Brooks clenched his jaw. He was silent for a moment then he nodded. “Abigail, with me. If we’re confronting ‘em we’ll need those guns. Everyone else, start getting in the van. We’re going to give chase.”

Abigail split off from the group, stalking up the path to the house and following Brooks' footsteps. "You don't sound so sure 'bout this," she pointed out.

“‘Course I ain’t. We’re following after killers with a pack of rascals.” he stepped up to the house, opened it and went where the injured bootlegger claimed to have dropped the guns. “Besides, what’s got you all giddy. You’re looking like a one armed bandit with broken lights.”

"The blood, for starters," Abigail intoned quietly. The sight of the house's interior had started to sink in. "And the pain, but that's more of a, a constant…" she stopped, checking under the coffee table for any weaponry.

“And I’m [I]askin’[/I]. How the hell did you injure yourself with no one that’s trying to kill you in sight?”

"Occupational hazard," Abigail remarked as she ran her fingers across the bullet holes, entranced. "I uh, it was an accident really, I got a little carried away and melted a bunch'a zip-ties into my hand. But we're good now," she added on hastily.

“No, we really ain’t.” he found the two guns where the injured man said they would be. He checked them for ammunition. “You don’t seem to grasp just how serious in a situation you are. Do you? Have you -still- not gotten in your head?”

"What, because I'm cracking jokes? Better to laugh than cry, right? And the state'ah this house is really tellin' of what I got ahead of me." Abigail swallowed hard, staring at the pools of blood and Alex's body. "What is this anyway, huh? You didn't bring me here to get the guns. What do you want from me?" 

“I left you alone for what, five minutes and look at what you gone and done.”

"You missed the part where Billy spent another five minutes yanking shit out of my melted hand, and I didn't so much as spark. I told you. It's been two weeks. I'm not gonna be a goddamn master." 

Brooks narrowed his eyes slightly then exhaled. “You’re going to trail behind when we run into the bandits, not run off on your own. You might get in the way with a bust up hand like that.”

"Hey man, I ain't complainin'." Abigail skirted towards Brooks, then away from him - back to the body in the kitchen. "Do I get one of them fancy guns?" She asked over her shoulder as she weighed her options...then squatted and started to rifle through the dead man's pockets. 

Brooks let out a sharp breath of air through his nose, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling. “MhmNo.”

Abigail found a couple of extra ammunition magazines and a blister pack of caffeine pills. Being unable to locate anything else of importance on the man's person, she trotted to Brooks' side and offered out the extra ammunition. "Then I hope whoever you give the spare to has some damn good aim," she grinned at him, all sweaty and dirty with blood down her arm. Brooks took the ammo and left the building to return to the bus.

As Brooks returned back to the van he voiced out at the group collectively: “Any shooters amongst you? We got two guns spare, one with eight bullets and the other with six. We’ll need ‘em where we’re going.” he turned to Billy next: “We’ll follow their tracks. Might have to go off road, can the bus handle it?”