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She had never seen so many singed and melted speakers in her life. Not even when years back while moshing it out at a concert a pyrotechnics malfunction set the entire stage on fire. The scent of burnt wires and plastic filled the air as they continued burning, but not a single sound escaped them.
And to finally have that silence after the rush before? That truly was bliss.
Hana placed her foot on the marked barrel and pushed it, rolling it towards the others stacked right outside of the Hope County Jail. It hadn’t been ruptured by gunfire or dented, but one lucky hit and she’d be out on her ass, an experience that she wasn’t about to repeat anytime soon.
Bliss was awful no matter the form, and after being laid out by a laced ‘bullet’ of all things, she was keen on avoiding any additional run-ins with the drug if she could help it. Out here over on Faith’s side of things, however, it flowed like water. Cutting across the shallower parts of the Henbane on the way here had her seeing stars, and she had to sit in the nearby bushes until the double-vision passed.
Blinking and rubbing her eyes, she’d almost missed the woman dancing right at the river’s edge. She’d jumped at the first sight of her, only to keep on watching, her eyes fixed on each skip, each spin, her white dress gleaming as she drew closer with each step.
Faith Seed had reached out her hand, letting it linger in the air between them. When Hana did nothing but stare in return, Faith snatched it back with a playful laugh before bounding off.
She hadn’t seen her since, but didn’t stop looking over her shoulder after that. Not until long after she’d finally made her way through the jail’s gates.
She smoothed her hair back, wrangling any loose strands back into the low bun she’d attempted earlier, and took a good look around the jail’s entrance, noting every last scorch mark and bullet hole that littered it. Twenty minutes ago it’d been a war zone. A fuel tanker had blown the front gate wide open, leaving them to scramble to hold back the waves of Angels charging forward, wave after wave compelled to do so from the music alone.
Now they could work on repairs, but the gates were going to be a big damn problem. The metal doors had warped from the heat of the explosion, and a group of resistance members guarded the front, giving the ones welding some semblance of a gate back together plenty of cover while they completed the job. This wasn’t something that could be rushed, but the literal hole in their defenses was looking more like an invitation for trouble the longer it was left open.
She tried to find tasks here and there to help, gathering up remains, disposing of the leftover bliss, and running rounds of watch. It was easier to stay busy, but all a part of her wanted to do was head back in and join Sheriff Whitehorse at the radio.
Seeing him alive and kicking – albeit frustrated with her for not even bothering to send him a message sooner – was the boost she’d badly needed. That night at the helicopter, she hadn’t been sure what to believe. With the smoke choking her, her arms too damn weak to grab for him or hold onto Hudson, she’d screamed her throat raw as she watched them all disappear.
And Burke, he’d cut and run as soon as he’d had the chance. She tried not to hold onto any bitterness, but it burned. Fear had pushed him to do it. Fear, and the thought of dying or worse as Joseph set his people upon them. People did awful things under duress. Awful, shitty things, and she’d been guilty of it too.
But she hoped when the day came and she found Burke again, there wouldn’t be a repeat of before. For his sake and hers.
“Hey, Deputy!”
She’d been in the middle of wiping the sweat of her forehead, and checked around until she caught movement from above.
Tracey gave her a wave from the top of the prison’s walls, one of a few posted up there for watch. At first glance, she didn’t seem any happier to see her than before, but didn’t seem ready to tear into her a second time either.
“Come up here for a second! We didn’t get a chance to finish our last conversation.”
Hana hesitated, but blew out the breath she was holding, and headed towards the nearby ladder.
When she reached the top, Tracey motioned her over to the group she was standing with. She looked Hana over just long enough for her to start picking at the fringe on her fingerless gloves, but before long Tracey’s posture relaxed and so did her stare.
“Sorry about earlier. It’s been nothing but hell here ever since we’ve been set up. I think this is the first time in a while where we haven’t been holding our breath and waiting for the next wave. Angels’ll still come pouring in. They always fucking do, but we aren’t worse off for dealing with them for once.” She shook her head. “I can’t even believe it. Fucking days of that shit, done.”
“And I come rolling up out of nowhere in the middle of it acting like an asshole with a hero complex.” Hana cracked a grin. “No, I get it. You’ve all been needing extra help for days now, and for all you know I’ve been doing nothing but doughnuts in John Seed’s turf out of boredom.”
Tracey snorted. “Oh, is that what’s been going on over there? Heard he’s pissed.”
Good, the pettier part of her thought. After being dunked during her botched baptism it was the least she owed him.
“I’m kinda wishing I did now, but…there’s always next time.” Tracey wasn’t smiling at her, per se, but the lighter topic seemed to be on the right track. “Anyway, you didn’t call me up here just to shoot the shit.”
“No, I didn’t. I’ve got work for you.”
Hana’s eyebrows flew up. “Oh! I guess now that I’m officially a Cougar, it only makes sense.”
Tracey took one look at the pin Virgil had placed on her shirt and rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t tell me you plan on wearing that around.”
“Aww, it’s kinda cool being part of a club again. Haven’t been in one since I was…” Probably seven or eight years old, if she had to guess, but judging from Tracey’s unamused expression, she really wasn’t appreciating the tangent. “Never mind. You were saying?”
“We’ve all been trying to figure out the best way to get at Eden’s Gate. If you ask me, it all comes down to one person: Faith. She controls the bliss, she made the Angels, and she’s the one pushing people to walk the Path through participating in a damn pilgrimage to Joseph’s statue. A pilgrimage to show their ‘true’ faith in him.” She spat at the ground. “The man’s as much of a god as she’s a Seed, droning on and on about only being a fucking mouthpiece for him, but he has no problem with his people putting him up on a pedestal either. Faith’s little gift is only fueling that.”
Filing away the comment on Faith for later, she found herself very interested in where this was going. “Okay, so on the subject of marble Joseph being an even larger asshole than Joseph already is, where do I come in?”
“You? Well, I want you to drive a giant fuck-you-sized hole right through it. You weren’t shy before around explosives. Hell, that was the only way to get the damn speakers to shut up. You want to do us a real service out here?” Her lips twisted into a bitter grin. “Go out to that giant fucking eyesore and blow it right off of the map.”
Opening and closing her mouth a few times, she waited for Tracey to give a sign that she was kidding, or to reveal the real job at hand. All she did instead was raise an eyebrow at her expectantly.
“…Seriously?”
“Did I stutter?”
She did not. Not even remotely.
“So, say I did want to do this, and don’t get me wrong, sending that up in a hail of fire and smoke would be pretty damn fantastic,” Hana began, “but that’s a statue. Unless you’re all hiding one hell of a payload somewhere in the prison, or there’s some wildcard prepper out there sitting on a treasure trove of fireworks and other such paraphernalia…”
She trailed off when she noticed a few of the resistance members trading knowing looks. A few even started nudging each other, and she stood there with her eyes narrowed for a hell of a lot longer than necessary.
“Okay, please elaborate on that, because you’re all leaving me in suspense here.”
The older woman on the left spoke up. “You gotta go with Boshaw and the Drubman kid.”
“Kid?” The one with the baseball cap shook his head. “Hurk Jr’s no damn kid-“
“If there’s something that needs blowing up they’ll be there,” she replied, ignoring him, “and where there’s one you’ll find the other. They’ve been getting up to who knows what judging from the calls coming in over the radio.”
Tracey rolled her eyes. “And half of the county’ll be a burned-out wreck by the time they’re done. But they’re solid bets if you want to do some real damage, and I’m surprised neither of their asses have ended up here yet.”
“You don’t say.” Hana tugged at a loose strand of hair as she thought it over, twirling the red-brown strands around her finger, and the more she considered it, the more she liked it. “Anyone got their last known positions?”
“I thought I heard something about Sharky being out by Moonflower, you know the trailer park? Don’t know if he’s still hanging tight there, though. I hear the Angels are out there in droves, so he’ll have his hands full.”
She nodded, and took out her map. “Moonflower… Moonflower…”
“Right here.” Tracey placed a finger on a spot just north of the jail. “Warning, if he is there, shout at him first, got it?”
“Sure, so he won’t swiss-cheese me on accident?”
“So he won’t roast you on accident. The guy loves his flamethrower to death, and isn’t afraid to use it. Unless you really want to see just how good of an aim he is up close, just avoid it, got it?”
After her last near-death experience by fire singed her hair? Nope, not happening.
Hana flashed her a thumbs up. “Got it.”
The rickety truck she’d stolen on the way there was still in the haphazard spot she’d left it, half wedged in the dirt off of the road.
She plopped into the seat, not even bothering with the seatbelt, and threw the truck into the reverse to try and guide it back to more even land. It creaked as it went, jostling her the entire way and she dreaded listening to that, let alone actually having to work her way through a car chase if anyone happened to recognize her.
It wasn’t a tough feat with her penchant for red clothes still going strong, and sunglasses could only do so much to cover up her eyes. She was still her same over-freckled self, and her mannerisms would give her away no matter how perfectly her outfit hid her. It just couldn’t be helped.
“…But maybe snagging a cap at some point wouldn’t hurt,” Hana muttered to herself, struggling to turn the steering wheel. Something internal had gone, possibly a leak somewhere, making it a near-Herculean effort, and would only get worse over time without repairs.
The sound of static by her side made her jolt, but soon the Sheriff’s voice came through crystal clear. “Hey, Rook? It’s Whitehorse, copy.”
She reached for her radio, and grinned wryly. “Rook? Thought that promotion was a sure thing, sir.”
“It was, and damn if you haven’t run with it since, but you know how it goes with old habits. They’re hard to shake once you get used to them, and speaking of one, I thought I told you to drop the 'sir' bit. Makes me feel ten to fifteen years older every time.”
“Easier said than done, I’m afraid, sir-er, shit.” She let go of the call button and sighed deeply before picking back up. “Hey, uh, I hope you don’t think I’m just cutting out on you just when things are looking up. Tracey wanted me to look into something for her, so I might not be back for a few days or so.”
“If she’s got you on something, it’s important. We can hold down the fort as long as we need to, and better now that we don’t have the Angels bearing down on us. Just remember to touch base every now and then."
“Or you’ll worry?”
“Damn straight, I’ll worry.” That knocked the silly grin right off of her face. “I’ll worry until this is over and done with, but until then, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
No promises, none at all. “I’ll try. Trying counts for something, right?”
“It’s always better than nothing. And I just wanted to tell you again, and it’s not worth much, but good work today. What you’re able to do right now, for here and for Fall’s End has meant a lot. Things aren’t going to improve for a while, but this is more than what we had yesterday. Keep it up, and we’ll even have something to celebrate.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” An actual end to all of this, with Hudson and Pratt back with them safe and sound? If only. “Just don’t jinx me now. You can’t see me, but I’ve got both sets of fingers crossed.”
“I hear you, Rook. I hear you.”
“Still, wish me luck?”
He chuckled. “Sure, but don’t use it unless you have to, you hear?”
“Loud and clear. Dep out.”
Most of the trip to the trailer park was actually spent fighting with the radio. Five times she’d switched to the Peggie station to see if they’d changed it up. She loved Barracuda, but needed a break every now and then to stay sane and keep the song as fresh as it was going to get.
One of those times she’d even started whistling out of tune to what was playing, focusing more on the tune than the words at first. That ended the minute it shifted into a rousing chorus of ‘Oh, John! Bold and brave!’ on her. There wasn’t much to mess around with concerning the radio after that.
All in all, she was thinking she’d have to either get used to this fast, or see about asking Dutch if they could arrange a way to pirate another rock station nearby. Not that she needed the extra tunes, but if the Peggies were going to blare their shit at them as a means of warfare, turnabout was fair play.
The road up ahead was a sharp curve, her angle of approach nearly making the wheels slip off of the side of the road. The steering wheel spun as she wrenched it to the right, and she felt the whole truck shift in response. The engine died soon after, sputtering as everything came to a halt.
“Oh, please don’t do this to me now.” Hana twisted the key, listening for anything, but only heard the grinding of metal. The next few turns were the same, except she stomped down on the gas for all the good it did her. “Shit.”
The rest of the trip would have to be on foot. She grabbed her bag and hopped out, making sure to keep her rifle ready as she made her way up the road.
A loud sound carried over from the park. A whoop? She crouched down by the bushes and took her binoculars out. The green fire-breathing blur soon became a person. A person currently in the middle of trying to shake off one too many Angels bearing down on him. They soon ignited, however, lost in a blast of flames.
Tracey hadn’t been kidding at all. In the man’s hands appeared to be a flamethrower, and judging by the surrounding small fires springing up around him, he wasn’t shy about using it.
And was he…dancing?
“Oh, geez,” she muttered, quickly stashing the binoculars in the bag at her side so she could run on in.
Going for her rifle, she raised it when she was close enough to actually track one of the Peggies moving in on him, and fired. The shot appeared to hit. The fact that it did nothing, made her swear loudly. She fired again, this time not waiting for a reaction before unloading again, and didn’t relax until they hit the ground.
Not even that was a guaranteed drop, but she had to keep on moving. With three of the Angels remaining, one of which was well within range of clubbing him with their pipe, she tried to keep her shots clean. One mistake and she risked hitting him herself, and like hell was she going to let that happen.
When the last one finally fell, she lowered her weapon but kept it close as she traveled further into the trailer park. She wasn’t exactly sure how the guy there was going to react to help, but when she got close enough to really get a look at him any and all concerns faded fast.
“Got some nice shots in there, chica!” Up on his perch on a nearby trailer, he smiled broadly at her as he removed his headphones. “Here for the barbeque?”
She gave him a quick once over, noting the soot-streaked green hoodie, the large fuel canisters on his back, and the cheerful bounce to his step. “Uh, maybe?”
“'Cause you can pull up a chair, and kick back ‘til I throw on some more tunes and the next herd of Angels come on by. Event’s BYOF, but I’m flexible.”
BYOF? “What?”
“Flamer, flame, fire, firestarter, firearm, firework. Any or all.” He patted the side of his flamethrower and waggled his eyebrows. “So, yeah. Real flexible.”
"...Gotcha."
Hana stared up at him, half-tempted to lower her sunglasses as she eyed him, but settled for giving him a crooked smile. She climbed up the stack of crates next to the trailer, hopping up to grab the corrugated sheet metal of the roof after that to clear the last few feet so she wasn’t alone on the ground anymore.
"So, I’m looking for someone actually, and I think I might have found him. Got a name, Mr. Pitmaster General?”
“Name’s Charlemagne Victor Boshaw, Sharky for short, and welcome to my little piece of disco heaven.”
Charlemagne? That alone was one hell of a name to shoulder, before adding on the others, but this was her man. Ironically enough, hearing his name in full now finally rang a bell that should’ve gone off back at the prison.
The Sheriff had handed her a hefty stack of files back at the station a few days before it all went to hell. It contained notices of complaints and charges in the county courtesy of a few repeat offenders. Hurk Drubman had popped up, and just as often a Sharky Boshaw joined him.
Whitehorse had shaken his head when she’d asked what the deal was, and had only offered up two words. Serial boredom. Knuckleheads, he’d also muttered right after, and she flipped through more of Sharky’s file as soon as Whitehorse turned his back.
Forget complaints, the list could’ve been slapped on a wanted poster. Unauthorized use of explosives and accelerants. Illegal acquisition and modification of weapons. Noise complaints. Vandalism. Public indecency. Arson. Conspiracy to commit arson.
It was a fun little list to say the least. And the arson bit? Totally checked out.
She threw up her hand in a mock salute. “Deputy Hana Vao, at your service.”
“Dep…uty?”
“That’s right.”
Sharky’s grin froze as he looked first at her, then at the flamethrower in his hands, then her again. “Uh, yeah, I’d say there’s nothing to see here, but they fucking started it.” He cleared his throat. “Ma’am.”
“I don’t think they wandered over here only to fall over into your little makeshift mesquite firepit all on their own, Boshaw.” She took one look at his flamethrower and gave him a wry look. “That’s got frequent use written all over it, aside from well, you know. Taking in what I’m currently seeing here.”
He started checking out the flames roaring off of the nearby trailer to her right, following her pointing finger when it also lingered on the flames dancing on the edges of the drained swimming pool. The trail kept on going until she’d done nearly a full 360, and when she settled her finger on him, he shrugged.
“You might’ve heard about the last few charges down at the station, but arson’s kind of a strong word to throw around for what went down at the Testy Festy last year. And the year before that. And last month, but-”
Still whirling a bit from being called ma’am, her eyebrows drew together as she processed that statement in particular. “Testy Festy?”
“Hell, yeah. Gotta go balls to the wall for that one. Wouldn’t be a festy otherwise. I might’ve gone on a bender leading up to it, but other than the hoe-downs, drinks, and some mighty fine pickings, it was missing something. Hurk agreed – he’s my cousin, and the best bro a Boshaw could have – and told me it’d be great to smash together a lightshow in its honor, and he was right. Homemade sparklers, a few hoosker doos and hoosker don’ts, and it was about to become the fucking festy to end all festies.”
“And?”
“We lit it up, and had it all under control, til the winds changed and uh, caught the barn on fire. And the house. And the fields and…the actual festival stands. Not real proud of that, but that dick burned so bright, I like to think even NASA floating up there got an eyeful.”
He finished his story with a grin, and she actually felt her mouth hang open a bit. “A dick?”
“Hell, yeah.” It wasn’t possible, but he grinned even wider. He was practically beaming.
This man set off a giant, flaming penis during what was referred to as the ‘Testy Festy’. The conversation with Whitehorse back at the station made so much more sense now. …Along with the charges.
“So, short of you cuffing me and bringing me down to the station, the jail, or wherever the po-po’s gathering now – and fuck that, you’ll have to run me down and hogtie me first - I figured I’d meander on up here to do a little community service. Spit in the eye of any of the Peggies that come knocking, and maybe melt some Angels’ faces off while I’m at it.”
“No, I’m not taking you anywhere, at least not anywhere you won’t want to go. I’m technically here on Cougars’ business, so any actual Deputy-ing will be kept to a minimum.”
She flashed the pin on her collar like she would’ve her badge, and he squinted at it as he considered it. “Sure you don’t just have like fifty guys waiting outside of the park to bring me in? Like hiding in the tall grass with the mossy suits and-”
“Scout’s honor,” she said, holding up a set of crossed fingers. “It’s a pretty hefty task I’m looking at, and going off of what others have told me, I think you might be the best around. What would you say is the largest thing you’ve ever blown up?”
Sharky glanced skyward as he thought it over, his face scrunching up as he scratched his goatee. “Largest? Might need Hurk for that, 'cause he’s the go big or go home type. We did send up Rae-Rae’s mascot ten years back, though. Not Boomer, 'cause that’s fucked up and he’s the sweetest dog around. Just the larger blimp-sized version of him.”
The mental image of that nearly threw her off again, but this time she recovered.
“How about a statue?” Hana turned, and held out both hands towards the statue of Joseph lurking in the distance. “How about that statue?”
“That one? You mean you want to…” Sharky’s eyes lit up, and his expression bordered on downright giddy as he looked between her and the statue in the distance. “Man, you want to shove a rocket up the Father’s ass? His statue’s ass, but still, it’s his ass, and I will make that dream a reality. Shit, might be better than having a chance at the real thing.”
“Anything you personally need to make this happen is yours, no questions asked. Extra gear, guns, uh…your buddy Hurk?”
“He’s further north up at his dad’s, but he’s in. You tell him even half of what you told me, and he’ll be begging for a proper shot at it. Might even give you fifty bucks to do it too.” He leaned towards her, and half-whispered, “And if he does, could you spot me thirty of that?”
While there weren’t flames currently coming out of the flamethrower, Hana did find herself eyeing it very carefully. “Uh, sure, man. Why?”
“He still owes me for the last time we got blasted over at the Spread Eagle, and every time I bring it up he claims to have had an out of body experience, and I don’t think we got zap-fried by aliens. Not that time, anyway.”
“Deal. Anything else?”
He walked over to three sets of foot pedals and a microphone, and rested his foot on one of the pedals before turning back to her.
“Yeah, shorty, one last thing. I promised anyone dropping by a barbeque, and we’re having one.” He pressed his foot down, and that’s when the speakers came on. “And it’s not a proper Peggie barbeque without this playing.”
The opening notes started, and she felt her mouth fall open. “No.”
Turns out disco didn’t actually die. It just decided to tuck itself into this tiny little corner of Montana, guided by one man set on letting that torch burn forever.
What happened over the next fifteen minutes was borderline surreal. To what quickly became apparent was a soundtrack consisting only of Disco Inferno – What the hell – they let every Angel that stepped foot into the place have it. He sang, he danced, he lit people on fire. The man was a living cartoon of a human being, and she was equal parts bewildered and fucking delighted.
Running laps around the trailer park, she took potshots at anyone that managed to make it past him. Sharky swept the stream of fire coming from his flamethrower in a wide arc, and even from the distance she told herself to keep, she felt the heat.
“Good thing it’s not no-pants time right now!” he shouted over the mic, and she strained to hear him over the shots rattling out of her rifle. “Normally I’d say drop ‘em if you’ve got ‘em - this is a pants-free zone for any and all looking for one, and that counts for you too –“
An Angel ran up on her, tacking her straight to the ground, and Sharky’s words somehow still came through clear as day.
“- but my dick’s hard right now and you don’t just flash that around a lady, not without asking first!”
She wrestled her rifle up, sending the butt of it into the Angel’s forehead as she shouted up at him, “Not helping, Boshaw! Not helping!”
It took three solid shots to stun them, and she scrambled out from under them just in time for Sharky’s help to arrive. He’d found a way down from his perch and let loose as soon as she was clear, though only by a hair. The flames roared as the Angel reared back, then fell, sliding back into the scorched pool.
“You okay, chica?” he asked, looking worried. “Looked close!”
Sneaking in a few quick breaths, she rested her hands on her thighs and let her head hang low before raising it. “Yeah, just a little. Can you watch it with that thing? They’re not the only ones feeling the burn here!”
“Fuck! Sorry, man! Just got a little too-”
This time she definitely lowered her sunglasses to look at him. “Excited?”
That actually got her something bordering on a blush from the man as she glanced up at him, and he coughed before giving her a sheepish grin. “Uh, yeah. Kinda.”
“So, are we good on the whole Saturday Night Fever thing, or are you still feeling the need to shake it further?”
“The turnout was decent, got to stretch my legs and see if I could beat my old high score. Think I was short by three,” he replied, dancing his way back to the trailer with the controls. “But ol’ Joe’s calling, and we can roast more later.”
After climbing back up, he pressed down on the pedal he’d pressed before, looking plenty satisfied with their work. The music instead kept on going, starting a new verse as his foot kept on pressing down, each motion more frantic than the last.
“Uh, Dep? We’ve got a serious problem here!”
Her hand started digging through her pack, sifting through the mess inside for anything resembling a magazine. The fact that she was still searching as the seconds ticked by didn’t bode well at all. “That wouldn’t be a music-related problem, would it?”
“It’s…the pedal should cut the sound off for each set of speakers, but it’s fucking done, man! We’re going to have to go for them one by one!”
“How many?”
“Four!”
So much for disco heaven. They were careening straight into disco hell.
Aiming her attention towards the entrance, she swore loudly under her breath. As she shoved a new mag into her rifle, she started towards the nearest switch. It was tucked behind a fenced off area, leaving her searching for an opening as she fired at the Angels in her way. Once it was clear enough, she ran for it, flipping the switch.
“One down!”
She couldn’t see Sharky from where she was, searching for any signs of green as she went back into the clearing, and nearly collided with an Angel waiting for her. The large pipe whistled through the air as it came within inches of her face, each swing forcing her back towards the trailers.
“Second’s off, just two more left!”
Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to look for a way to side-step around the Angel, only to catch a nearby shovel off to her right. It’d been shoved spade-first into the dirt, but was just within reach.
The rifle dropped to her side, the sling keeping it by her side as she dove for the shovel. Pulling it out of the ground, she barely put the shovel up between her and the Angel in time, holding them back as they snarled in her face.
Every sound, beat, and note meant another pissed off Angel. It was all too reminiscent of the jail, and she cursed their awful luck as she planted her foot in the Angel’s stomach to shove them back.
“Am I close to one?”
“Up the ladder, Dep!”
Ten feet ahead, then up the ladder. You can do this.
Hana swung the shovel, full-on thinking of hitting a home run as she did it, and it clanged on impact with the Angel’s face.
Go, go, go!
One tried to grab her leg as she pulled herself up the ladder, nearly wrenching her arm as she hooked it through the rungs. It wasn’t easy or pretty as she finagled her handgun out of her holster and fired blindly below, but the moment she had her leg back she scrambled to the top.
She yanked down hard on the switch, holding on tight, and waited.
“-disco inferno, burn baby burn-“
This process was going to ruin this song for her forever, and that was unacceptable. “Sharky!”
The music cut off abruptly, feedback coming through the speakers as it happened, then silence. Glorious silence. Her grip loosened, and she quickly tightened it to keep from falling off of the damn thing.
Casting her eyes down at the ground, two Angels lingered at the bottom of the ladder. Their dazed drifting had her watching them very carefully, and as she started to creep down rung by rung, she held her breath.
Don’t look up. Please, don’t look up.
She reached for one of her grenades and popped the pin. Letting go as she jumped, she aimed herself for any tall grass she could reach, knowing that at this height it was still going to hurt like hell.
Not as much as that grenade, however.
It went off right as she hit the ground, her messy roll sending her into a nearby crate. Swearing loudly, she stared over at the smoke-filled spot while flat on her back, and idly registered that her handgun had fallen somewhere off to the wayside.
But the Angels didn’t appear to even remotely exist anymore, so…best one out of two?
She’d take it.
“Yo, po-po! Where you at?”
She groaned and flipped over onto her stomach. Sharky called out for her again, and she pushed herself up so she could wave over at him.
The fire she’d freshly started continued to crackle as it burned, catching more of the dry grass around them as it made its way around the trailer park.
Hana flopped down in a nearby lawn chair, and watched it as the tension bled out, resting her rifle across her lap. She hadn’t even bothered to light the cigarette she’d dug out of her pack, keeping it dangling out of her mouth as she relaxed.
The grass crunched under Sharky’s feet as he ran over, somehow still a complete livewire after everything. “Way to bust some Peggie ass, Dep! You just scored yourself one bonafide Boshaw. One of a kind, limited edition,” he said, pounding his chest before firing off one last blast with his flamethrower.
The edge of it caught a nearby fence, quickly spreading to the trailer to his right. He scrambled away before it finally went, larges plumes of black smoke rising up before a small explosion tore through the rest of it.
When he came to a stop in front of her - not quite singed, but still kicking - he struck the same pose as before, only to take a few seconds to puff his chest out.
She took one last look at him before finally giving in, dissolving into a fit of laughter.
One of a kind indeed.