"Mother-shitter! Goddammit, Fiffy!"

"Sorry, hon! I'm tryna skitter 'round all them pot-holes, but the damn road's just 'bout made of 'em!"

"Asshole, we ain't seen a road since we left the Salt Flats!" Andee retorted before wincing and clutching into the dashboard as the pickup thumped over another divot. "Fuck!"

Samael offered his most apologetic smile while patting his lap. "Aww, you c'n always come sit on me, honeybunch, might be a li'l softer ride for ya."

The bat shot him a dour look. "Bull-shit, ain't nothin' soft about ridin' you, that blue bastard's the reason it feels like Lutane's boys been usin' my ass for target practice..." He scowled and rubbed at a hip while Samael failed to hide his sheepishly proud grin. Andee's eyes flicked to the gleam of his teeth. "Ay, I see you smirkin' over there, we gotta have us a talk about readin' between the lines! Just 'cause I tell you to fuck me hard don't mean I wanna walk crooked for a day!"

"Shit, hon, you know I cain't read no good," Samael drawled before winking at his partner. "'Sides, I swear you told me that's the only way a good fuck goes."

"Yeah, well, we'll see how you like it after I tie a fuckin' bowling ball 'round my dick," Andee muttered. "Fuckin' chupas and ya fuckin' weird-ass bodies, like some drunk taxidermist sewed up the ugliest mix-'n-match fucker they could think of..."

Samael chortled and tilted his head while steering the truck around a particularly rough patch of cracked red soil. "A taxi-wut-now? I think York told me 'bout them, they're the folks who drive you 'round in them big cities?"

Andee groaned, mashing a hand to his forehead as his cap slid off and to the side. "Christ, Sammy, sometimes I forget what a fuckin' moron you are." Samael continued to smile even as he rubbed lamely at his jaw and gazed at the canyon walls ahead. "For someone who's apparently fucked half the ring, you still ain't seen shit..."

"That's why we gotta stick together, right?" He shifted his eyes briefly to Andee, searching the bat's flat expression for the familiar flicker. "I wanna see it all with you, hon..."

Andee set his jaw and snatched up his hat, but hesitated in returning it to his skull so he could instead point it at the chupa. "Ehhh, quit settin' so many expectations for me, ya dumb bastage..." Samael caught a brief shift of the bat's eyes. "But yeah, yeah, guess better me than ya stupid werepup boyfriend. Last thing you need is gettin' any fuckin' dumber."

Samael's grin returned carefully. "Whole pack knows how smart you are now!" Samael sang out. "They's real happy yer here to keep me in line!"

"Whole pack knows how good I take dick, more like," Andee grumbled, though the twitch upward of his lips was unmistakable. "They just want me to come back to get another fuckin' five-star feature..."

Samael giggled, his tail jangling along brightly. "I keep tryna tell ya what a good team we make!" A happy smile settled back into place as he drummed an energetic two-step on the steering wheel. "An' now we're off on another adventure! You 'n me, sweetcheeks, we're goin' all the way to the top! Gonna kick Omega's dumb, wimpy ass, end this damn war 'n be sittin' pretty in our love-nest 'til the end'a time!"

The truck bounced over another patch of uneven rocks and jostled Andee out of his scowl, replacing it with a yelp. "Fuckin' hell, Fiffy!" Andee twisted around to glare through the rear window at the tarp-covered truck bed. "It ain't just my tender ass on the line, here...we ain't gonna need no Hexagon activation codes if ya fuckin' activate 'em into a crater in the middle'a Stigma!!"

"Sheeeit, they ain't blowed up in Qoppa after we jumped that gap, ain't no li'l road-bumps gonna set them thangs off," Samael reassured with a playful elbow. "Now quit yer worryin' an' figure out where we're gonna camp out fer the next rest."

"Ehh, we's only like ten hours out," Andee muttered as he snatched up the map from the dashboard and traced a finger along the worn surface. "Let's bust ass and just catch a snooze after we meet up with these fuckers."

Samael's smile thrummed. "Hell yeah -- love yer endurance, hon. We gotta fuel up in a coupla hours, but I think we c'n hit the border 'fore zero-hundred CM!"

He glanced over and savored Andee's smirk more than he probably should have. "Heh. Guess we'll see if we make them Blarganthia headlines again." The piercings in his jaw glinted with his toothy grin. "One'a these babies would give Highguard a real explosive makeover, have our last job at the cliffs lookin' like it was just a touch-up!"

Samael cheerfully matched the bat's grin as he floored the accelerator and tipped the nose of the truck toward the wavy silhouette of a small city on the horizon. "I'm startin' to think maybe Nelson's right 'bout you bein' such a bad influence...an' I kinda like it!"

Andee rolled his eyes. "You keep that blueberry popsicle in ya shorts, ya horny midget." The teasing glance across the cab was a gulp of Sirca's smokiest whiskey. "But maybe I'll let ya give me a blowie while I'm doin' a test-fire of our loot..."

The rebel beamed and put his eyes back to the sun-baked landscape, murmuring a silent blessing for his intricate puzzle of a partner. It wasn't the first time on this drive that their usual banter had left him teetering on the brink of concern. A small mountain of biting responses and cool shoulders had been building between them ever since they left Sampi, like Andee was determined to build a new bat-town from insults, barbs and broken hearts.

Wasn't like it was all that strange -- Andee had never been one for platitudes of love or whispers of eternal devotion, not unless the shrooms and booze were flowing with no other witnesses to cling to the evidence. Samael had accepted that about his companion, and it hadn't done a thing to weaken his resolve. He still loved this angry little fucker with every ounce of his soul.

He was willing to chalk it up to the doubtlessly overwhelming experience of meeting his people, especially with the frigid backdrop of an environment so different from Andee's humid jungle home. In spite of the regular jabs and admonishments, they hadn't fought in the two periods they'd spent driving, and Andee had even grudgingly allowed Samael to curl up around him whenever they'd stopped to make camp and get whatever sleep they could, offering the redneck more intimacy than usual.

He and York were right to believe in their cones, because the pieces were finally starting to settle into place. All they had to do now was survive an impossible fight against a centuries-old system, run by a ruthless, religious organization with a centuries-old god-king as its figurehead, and maybe as a bonus, not have the criminal underground of Sirca riddle them with holes along the way.

Piece of cake for the ring's most badass bat-and-chupa duo!

"Mmmm, c'mon now -- you cain't tell me you don't smell the hot sexy memories o'er the airwaves!" Samael exclaimed as he pulled the microphone away from his maw and held it up high.

"Wait, wait...hold on," his friend's voice crackled from the speaker. "Is that...are you guys in Blarganthia??"

Samael grinned and dropped his elbow on the hood of the truck to prop up his chin while testing the limits of the microphone's taut cable. "Fuck me if you ain't got yer own sixth sense, Big Pup. Ain't but a couple hundred klicks from where you nailed my ass above Highguard!"

"Ah yes, the hallowed ground where Samael Wurlitz convinced me I was gay!"

"You mean bi," Samael teased before they both broke into delighted laughter.

"Let me know if they've finally gotten around to putting up a monument -- that's a Historical Sircan Landmark, now!" York declared. "So what's up, you taking your redwood cone out that way so Andee can perform some kinda bat-alicious ownership ritual on the same spot? I'd love it if he stopped giving me the stink-eye every time we ran into each other, pal...I know he's always got a couple blades and more than a few boom-sticks under that poncho..."

"Don't forget the one 'tween his legs," Samael chortled while smiling toward the distant cliffs. "Awww, he'll get over it, he knows you 'n me go way back 'n way deep."

"Few on Sirca go as deep as you, Li'l Pup," York replied, effortlessly lacing emotion with innuendo. "But hey, quit making me think about your orgasmic BJ skills before Wash comes back and wonders why I'm sittin' in the van with a boner."

"Sheeeit, he ain't gotta wonder, you go on and tell him his cute li'l squirrel ass is on yer mind -- I know it's fine enough to get me riled up!" They shared another titter as Samael craned his neck over to check the gauge on the fuel pump. "But naw, we're out here on business. Runnin' a li'l side-job fer some kin of mine, actually." He rolled his eyes innocently. "Ain't official, an' Mama didn't want me more'n a period away, so uh...do me a favor and don't tell her 'bout this li'l day trip."

"Oh yeah, you know I never miss my Satday Social Sesh with Nelson," York deadpanned. "I was totally about to call her after talking to you."

Samael snickered and rubbed his claws against his chest. "Yeah, yeah, you ain't alone bein' scared of her." He paused, but not long enough for York to make a feeble, inaccurate protest. "I ain't tryna get lit up, first thing I did 'fore leavin' Sampi was disable the RPS thingamadoodle she has O'Neill stick in all'a our dashboards."

"Smaaaaart, now you and Andee are in-cognitus," York crooned approvingly. "Yeah, we're actually out bringing some stuff to Ashley ourselves! You guys should keep heading north after your job, meet us at the orphanage for a double-date!"

"Fuck, we do need us another get-together...but as much as I love Ashley, I know she'd be tellin' Mama about us visitin' before we even walked back out the door, then we're back to me gettin' my hide tanned!" Samael clucked his remorse. "Naw, you 'n Miz Wash have fun deliverin' toys to them tater-tots, we'll plan another hook-up soon."

"Awwww, but I guess you've got a point, amigo--"

"Who the hell are you talking to, York?"

Samael's expression brightened at the sound of Wash's voice approaching. Maybe Andee was right about him having a few screws loose...because no matter how many times Wash tore him to shreds, Samael couldn't help but exude excitement for the presence of his best friend's boyfriend.

"Uhhhh...definitely not Sammy."

"Goddammit."

Samael beamed and clutched the microphone with both hands. "Hey, pine cone! It's Sammy!"

"Goddammit." The radio squealed as Samael imagined hardware changing hands on the other end. "We're on a mission. York can't talk," Wash provided curtly.

"It's all good, we're on a job, too!" Samael's eyes widened impishly. "Ooh oh oh!! Did York tell you 'bout the truck we're drivin'?"

"...What truck?"

York's gleeful laugh came through faintly. "Little buddy, you'll never believe it! It's the truck we took from the cave-bang in Sampi!"

"Oh god no."

"Oh god yes!" Samael cooed as he danced happily on the tips of his toes. "You c'n smell the gay friendship, hon! Wish me luck with Andee, I'm hopin' some of yer hot, ruffy action rubs off on us, too!!"

"Geezus, we are fucking out, I don't want to hear anoth--" The transmission cut off but Samael was all grins. He reached back into the cab to replace the microphone just as Andee dashed toward the truck from the back of the service station.

The bat scampered across the asphalt with a hooded jacket pulled over his small frame, the closest they had to a half-decent disguise for him in the daylight. And unless someone looked really hard, most people seemed to assume he was just a weird, deformed chupa kid. "Mah sexy li'l undercover bat! Guess who's o'er in Episemon runnin' a gig today!?"

"I don't give a fuck, just start the engine!" Andee ordered as he stole a look over his shoulder before a telltale crinkle sounded from under the oversized jacket. "We gotta roll!"

The urgency in his partner's voice meant that -- praise the spirits? -- Andee wasn't cross about Samael having talked to York, since he assumed Andee would have made that guess on the first try. Samael traded his pout for a coy grin as he hopped behind the wheel and twisted the key while glancing through the rear window. "Fuckin' hell, hon, you take a side trip to the snack aisle? Got a case'a the munchies?!?"

"The Forty-Two in Lactan ain't got shit for selection!" Andee snapped. He flung a variety of packaged treats through the window before opting to yank himself through the same gap instead of fumbling with the heavy door.

Samael's giggle oozed glee and he shoved the truck into first, then stomped down on the accelerator as he caught a glimpse of an attendant bursting through the shop's entrance. "I'm jus' impressed y'all test yer luck that hard, considerin' how careful ya are 'bout showin' yerselves to the rest'a the ring."

"Feh, you chupas is already dumb enough as-is, the old fucker who runs that jungle joint wouldn't know his dick from a cactus if they was both slappin' him in the face," Andee muttered while stealing a look over his shoulder as well. His triumphant smirk materialized in time with Samael's wink as their eyes met. "Ah, shaddup, Fiffy. I know I'm good."

"Well if you don't want me to lay the sweet words on ya, I c'n try'n keep it to myself," Samael sang out in a playful lilt.

"Like hell you could," Andee retorted. "You's more obsessed with coverin' me in praise than ya are ya own fuckin' jizz..."

"I c'n do both!" the chupa crowed, already expecting the slap of his companion's wing and merely laughing as it made him rock slightly to the side.

Andee rolled his eyes but seemed unable to mask the smile, idly shoving at Samael's thick arm. "Fuck outta here..." Samael ran his tongue eagerly over the pause, savoring every drop of Andee's mulled appreciation. "Even if ya have been doin' a pretty fuckin' good job ever since we almost ended up stainin' the bottom'a the Sidewinder ravine..."

Samael beamed proudly, his swell of confidence intoxicating enough to dizzy his vision. He opened his maw to respond, only for a frown to morph in place as he squinted through the haze at the concrete barriers blocking the highway ahead. "Aw shit..."

Andee glared through the windshield, his own pleased expression twisting toward a dark grimace. "Get off the road, find us another route."

Samael nodded and twisted the wheel to send the truck veering toward the next off-ramp. "Yeah, we're close to the border, ain't a problem."

Andee twisted around to clutch into the the bench seat while staring back to the highway. "Shit."

The chupa lifted his gaze to the rearview, frowning at the militia vehicle that had peeled away from the checkpoint to pursue them. His fingers tightened around the wheel as Andee cursed again and plopped down. "Fuckin' move it, Fiffy!" he commanded while securing the seatbelt over his small frame.

Samael began an obedient nod, only for a twitch of his instincts to interrupt. His hand hovered over the shifter knob as his eyes flicked from the road to the chasing vehicle to the rough, sickly vegetation that dotted the barren landscape. The tarp covering the truck bed fluttered in his peripheral and he chewed his lip in thought.

"Ay, why the fuck ain't we movin'?!?" Andee demanded, shoving at his companion's thick arm with another unnerved look over his shoulder. "We gotta fuckin' truck, and I thought you knew how to fuckin' haul! We gotta lose 'em!"

It wasn't a sure-fire bet, but hell...hadn't they been making the most of their long shots lately? "We ain't gonna outrun 'em in this thing, hon...and goin' off-road here wouldn't be like them pot-holes I was hittin' earlier, we's gonna lose cargo if we roll that way." He could feel Andee's piercing stare, daring him to continue down the path upon which he so rarely walked. "Lemme do my thing."

"Do your thing?!" Andee spat back. "You's got a silver tongue, Fiffy, but it ain't sterling!"

That bubbling confidence tickled the back of the rebel's throat and he smiled at his partner. "C'mon, Andee. Do you trust me?"

He should have been hurt by how long Andee glared back without a response, all but hearing the sarcastic fuck no! he knew had to be cocked and loaded in the bat's maw. But as the siren drew closer, Andee's teeth gnashed and he slammed a fist into the dashboard, frustration spilling around his groan. "Fuck! Fuck! Yeah, yeah, fuckin'...the fuck am I s'posed to do, then, smart-ass?!?"

Samael downshifted and mashed the truck's hazards while maneuvering onto the shoulder near a heavier patch of brush and straggly desert flora. "Jus' cover yerself back up with that hoodie," he urged, gesturing to the oversized garment still hanging off his companion's slight frame. "Pretend yer passed out snoozin'!"

"Spirits' rotted dicks, what a shitty fuckin' way to die," Andee muttered, looking torn between doing as instructed or simply giving a rude salute and crawling through the truck window to make an airborne escape. "Don't make me fuckin' regret this, Samael," he hissed before yanking the hood over his features and curling up against the passenger door.

The faith he felt for his partner twined with his self-assurance, and he had to fight back the joyous smile to avoid blowing his own plan. The name of today's game was desperation. His eyes lit onto the ratty undershirt they'd used to plug up one of the rusted-open vents back in Sampi, preventing some of the frigid drafts from overcoming the struggling heaters. He yanked it free with a grunt, quickly shaking off the worst of the rust and grime with one hand and then tossing it over his head to force the ragged shirt to stretch across his broad frame and mostly cover the loud tattoo shouting from his bicep. Andee sucked on his teeth while visibly wincing further into his corner. "Ugh, now you really look the part of dumbass redneck," he grumbled.

"'S the point, hon," he replied jauntily, aiming to stop them as close as possible to the overgrown underbrush. Easier to lose a stunned minuteman in that mess if they ended up having to make a break for it after one of Samael's signature sucker punches.

As the tires crunched to a slow halt on the remote stretch of road, Samael reached over to snag one of the snack bags. He squeezed it open with a dull pop and earned a scowl from beneath Andee's hood. "Ay, fatass, you gonna try'n bribe the fucker with cheesy puffs?!?"

"Hush on up 'n get back to sleep," Samael retorted with a wink while spreading some crumbs across his chest and lap. His eyes jumped to the mirror as the orange and purple strobe lights rotated menacingly on their approach toward the stopped truck. The fleeting hope of the militiaman passing them to chase someone else faded, but Samael's confidence refused to ebb alongside. He could still feel the heartbeat of the pack encouraging his own, thudding nearly as powerfully as Andee's during their fireside performance. There wasn't a damn thing they couldn't pull off together.

Paws crunched against gravel and he studied the grimy reflection of the minuteman approaching the back of the truck. Maybe a third of a meter taller than him, average build. The hand resting on his holstered pistol was relaxed, his strides slow but purposeful. Confident and collected despite the fact he'd chased down a potential criminal looking to hop a checkpoint -- maybe a veteran, either through experience or age.

Samael's eyes shifted to the side-view in time to spot several greying tufts of fur edging a rounded jawline, confirming at least the latter. The rebel's fingers tightened around the wheel as his tail emitted a traitorous chime.

Desperation.

He waited for the rap at the glass, denying the eager rush to please his opponent. He was swift to roll down the window, however, oozing nervous obedience as an apprehensive smile scrambled over his muzzle. "Wh-what seems to be the problem, D-Deputy?"

The militiaman's palm lounged atop his sidearm as he bent down enough to give Samael a once over. "You not a fan of checkpoints, son?" His pale yellow gaze drifted from Samael's jaw piercings to the crumbs dotting his chest and lap before settling briefly on the fingers that Samael curled around the crook of his arm.

Samael swallowed appropriately, allowing the disingenuous tic to play out for a second longer. "Erm...no, sir, not at all, it's just mah kid..." The years of acting countless roles for Nelson paid off as not even the sliver of a smile parted his cowed facade when Andee twitched at the words.

The minuteman leaned down further to squint into the cab, no doubt taking in the crushed snack bags before focusing on the bundle of baggy clothes pressed into the passenger door. Samael shifted his fingers to rub the back of his neck in an imitation of sheepishness. "I was s'posed to have 'im home in Lagmar an hour ago, mah wife...erm...his momma, she was expectin' us back already." He took a shaky breath and squeezed a jagged smile into place once more. "I ain't wanted to wake 'im, or, uh...y'know...be any more late..."

A dismissive snort as the deputy's eyes lingered on the rumpled hoodie, then drifted back to the redneck. "She sounds like a real nag." The grin he flashed would have been reassuring to anyone who hadn't grown up learning to spot dangerous creatures in the dark. "I know the type." He straightened after a moment and took a step toward the back of the truck.

Surely a test.

Samael didn't react beyond a lame chuckle. "You, uh...you got a lady of yer own?"

"Mmm. Some days," he replied coolly before plucking at the well-secured tarp with a claw. "What're you hauling?"

"The ol'...erm, I-I mean, my wife, she got me a job with a cuzzin' of hers, haulin' scrap from the R&D joint near the capitol," he mumbled, injecting a healthy measure of shame.

This snort felt far more derisive, even if the militiaman lifted his hand warily from the surface of the tarp. "You aware that shit could be toxic?" Samael's tongue nearly gave him away as it passed along the back of his teeth in satisfaction when the deputy stepped back toward the cab. "Bet there's a decent payday for you, or at least I'd hope if you had to handle it yourself."

Now the greed was palpable. Samael leaned further into the act, pretending the way his claws scratched into his arm was completely unconscious. "O-oh, I sure hope so...I got me, erm...a coupla debts I owe back in the big city..."

The minuteman bent down again, gripping into the doorframe with both hands as his auburn eyes bore into Samael's gaze. Samael had no doubt the practiced intimidation left most victims quivering, and so he allowed his muzzle to quake with the semblance of dawning realization. "I-I-I a-ain't got m-more'n a coupla bucks to mah name, s-sir..."

"Shit, and here I was worried I'd have to spell it out for you," the deputy muttered as poison trickled through the waning rivulets of his gentility. Now Samael could truly see the power trip; seniority with the militia hadn't tempered this man's aggression, it had instead been sharpened into a blade hungry for the blood of those beneath him. "Well if you don't have cash, what do you have to offer?"

"O-offer?" Samael stammered.

"For my goddamn time," the minuteman growled. "Give me a reason not to go back to my car and write you up." The predatory gleam on his teeth enhanced the cold grin. "Hell, for all this trouble, I'll just haul your ass to lock-up." He lowered his head enough to stare menacingly past Samael at the pile of oversized clothes. "And what do you think your wife would say if she had to come all this way to pick him up from the station, mm?"

Samael's eyes widened, his pleading whispers coming out in frantic bursts. "N-no-no-no!" He let loose another tactical scratch at his elbow, which drew Predator's gaze sharply back to him. "I...I ain't got...n-nuthin' 'cept the scrap 'n the clothes on m-mah back..."

Predator drank in Samael's pitiful display, his entire body thrumming with a hunter's excitement. "Omega above -- you keep screwing up, don't you?" His voice ran thick with haughty malice, tendrils of his burgeoning domination twisting around each word. "You don't even have the balls to call her your wife...how close is she to taking a trip to the vicar?" The grin widened further. "This would push her over the edge, wouldn't it?"

Part of Samael was disgusted that he hadn't already laid this guy onto his back. But minutemen never traveled alone -- there'd be others at the checkpoint, and if he was gone too long...and maybe, maybe a different part of him wanted this. To prove he could, or perhaps simply to prove Andee right.

He really was a hopeless whore.

"N-no, p-please, ah'll...ah'll do w-whatever you want," Samael whimpered. "I cain't lose mah family..."

Predator took a long, leisurely breath before placing his hands on both hips, a low chuckle breaking his sharp grin. "Then get out of the fucking truck and show me what you'd do for them." His tongue lashed across his fangs, nearly as cruel as the sneer that followed. "Or what I bet you've already done for another fucking needle in your arm..."

Samael fumbled to open the door, dropping out of the cab to fall to his knees. Predator laughed sharply and Samael watched his paws shift backward in surprise. "Holy shit, you're a fuckin' midget...no wonder your wife is gonna leave you!" he jeered before Samael winced as fingers closed around the nape of his neck and forced him toward the truck's rear. "We'll see if you got anything worth keeping you out of a fucking cell."

Samael knew he'd done just enough talking as confidence raced through his veins. And as the militiaman shoved his head against the opposite side of the truck while using his other hand to swiftly undo his belt, Samael knew it was time to put his jaws to their finer purpose. The years of practice had made him nigh immune to the shame, and besides -- he'd used these skills before to advance the Movement's goals, to help a friend find a glorious truth, to save his own hide, to recruit allies and even to render his precious bat-shaped boyfriend speechless.

Be a little silly not to take a measure of pride -- and pleasure -- in his work.

"Ay, c'mon, asshole, you gonna keep grinnin' like that the whole fuckin' drive?!?"

Samael certainly considered it, adding the azure tip of his tongue to enhance the expression. Andee squinted up at him before flailing both arms and sending the loose clothing across the cab.

"Keep that tongue in ya fuckin' mouth, ya cocky bitch! Feh, I know you used it on that fuckin' minuteman, you's still got the fuckin' wet spot on the front'a ya shorts!" the bat seethed. "His dick wasn't even that big, I saw how you ain't even broke a sweat deep-throatin' that fuckface!"

"I knew you couldn't resist watchin'!" Samael crowed victoriously, reaching over to poke a finger into his partner's nose. "You's as bad as me, hon!"

"Bad as you, my ass, I ain't the one gettin' off to givin' blowjobs to crooked-ass fuzz," Andee muttered. "Or was you springin' a boner 'cause he was grey around the edges?!"

Samael knew he should have felt shame, but Andee had spent so long telling him to be proud of who he was, to embrace all those urges that made most of Sirca wrinkle their muzzles. Andee might have hated how devoted he was to the rebellion, but Samael wasn't blind to the raw rapture his companion exuded whenever Samael fed those desires. His expression during the threesome with York burned everlasting in Samael's memories, no matter how many fights sparked over the mere mention of Samael's best friend.

"Heh, ay, I wanted to knock his lights out, but we needed us a clean getaway, an' I fuckin' delivered!" Samael boasted.

"Clean, feh, that's why ya had to lose that shitty fuckin' shirt just so you could wipe Constable Cumshot off ya fuckin' face afterward," Andee lamented before returning Samael's jabbing finger with a claw in the chupa's side. "Which, by the way, means we gotta fuckin' stop somewhere else now, pick you up a fuckin' jacket or some shit, I don't want these Hexagon motherfuckers to know you's with the goddamn Movement..."

"Heh, why not?" Samael tilted his head musingly. "Wouldn't that be good fer making us look all...y'know, eager to make the deal? E'ryone knows the Movement's always lookin' fer more firepower!"

Andee flung a flat expression across the cab. "Christ, this is just like our very first fuckin' job -- there's a reason that I'm the fuckin' brains and you's the fuckin' brawn! Ya might be cute, Fiffy, but ya still a fuckin' idiot!" Andee scolded with a grand gesture of both arms. "The hoops ain't gonna turn us in, they ain't got enough clout with the House to cover their own hides. But Hexagon, those fucks got the House so fuckin' far up their asses, they got sore jaws from the puppet show!" He shook his head and Samael felt his self-assurance waver. "Wouldn't be a stretch to say turnin' you in would be worth more to them than a buncha their own goddamn rockets..."

"Oh..." Samael chewed on the inside of his cheek, crestfallen. But...it was okay he wasn't that smart, right? That's why he had Andee. That's why they worked so well together, why he didn't have to be ashamed. He inhaled deeply and then tried an upbeat smile over at his partner. "But...I'm great at foolin' people, hon! Ain't you just saw how I tricked that minuteman thinkin' I was jus' a helpless li'l wuss? An' you know I ain't!"

"Helpless around a goddamn dick!" Andee shot back, even if a grudging smile pulled at the corners of his maw. "Fuck you, Fiffy, I know what you's about to say." Samael held his tongue and wished on his deepest desires, watching as Andee crossed his arms before slowly, slowly, slowly offering a smug grin. "Fuckin' asshole. I guess we really do make a good fuckin' team...but we's still gettin' you a fuckin' shirt, and we's still goin' with my plan, got it?!"

"Yessir!" Samael beamed as he cheerfully saluted with his tail. "Like I'm gonna ever complain when yer takin' charge, sweet thang..."

"Pretty strange your man doesn't carry."

"Feh, we ain't rookies in this game, asshole! Don't start talkin' shit like you wouldn'ta just taken his piece if he'd had it on him," Andee retorted while gesturing toward Samael. "We're here to cut a fuckin' deal, not have a fuckin' Stigman standoff..."

Samael was dutifully silent, his hands clasped behind his back as he strolled after Andee and their two escorts. They'd come across a family-run clothing shop an hour or so from their destination, and it'd only taken a small amount of pleading with Andee to actually pay for the long-sleeved shirt that now covered his broad torso. Andee had been determined to add unarmed robbery to their daily scorecard, but Samael had been so enamored with the lovely old couple that ran the shop -- and the fact they'd actually had a shirt that fit him -- that he had pulled out his wallet without hesitation, despite the burning glare he'd felt from the parking lot.

Andee wasn't complaining now, anyway. The shirt made him look almost professional...or at least as professional as a beefy hoopster bodyguard could while wearing criminally-short shorts.

Samael's eyes slid curiously to the strange sculptures that lined the shelves of the entrance hall -- he was no expert, but they seemed to emulate the style of some of the Predecessor temples and structures that dotted Sirca's surface. Maybe it meant the hoop had more money than they'd originally suspected.

"Hrmph, fair enough," one of the hoopsters grumbled as he glanced at a silver timepiece on his wrist. "You two got here a little early, so we'll have to see if they're ready for you yet."

Andee offered a noncommittal grunt while eyeing Samael briefly. Samael internalized his smile. Andee wouldn't have to worry; it was just like York said, they were totally in-cognitus.

Next to Wristwatch, the other hoopster peered at the duo through a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. "So what are your plans for the rockets? Leader says we won't need the whole batch."

"Leader?" Andee repeated with a lifted eyebrow before a tiny frown wormed its way onto his expression. He slung another disconcerted look at Samael, who tipped his head quizzically. Andee sure could be judgmental -- bats had chieftains, armies had sergeants, rednecks had elders. Why couldn't these guys have a leader?

The bat shrugged all the same and waved a wing. "What, we best friends now? Why do you care?"

Glasses regarded the bat with displeasure, though Wristwatch offered a wan smile. "The reputation of your people precedes you, bat. What's wrong with small talk?"

"Feh, you chupas and ya fuckin' need to yap instead of just gettin' down to business," Andee grumbled, possibly unaware of his hypocrisy. "Maybe I'll keep 'em to sell to someone else, maybe I'll launch one right up ya mom's cooch, what's it to you?!"

It was Wristwatch's turn to glare horribly as Glasses let a small snicker slip through his huff. The hoopster smiled broadly after a moment and clenched his fist confidently. "We have a greater purpose in mind. Leader has a plan to use these not as weapons...but as keys."

Samael and Andee shared another baffled look before Andee peered between the two hoopsters. "The fuck you unlockin', the doors to a shrine maiden's snatch??"

Wristwatch's smile was more calm. "Some secrets deserve freedom. I'm sure you've wanted to hear a whisper from across the room before."

Andee gave a droll look while thrusting a claw toward his own features. "Yeah, that's why I got these fuckin' ears, dumbass, I ain't deaf like you surface-fucks," he muttered, allowing Xulod's tongue to gift-wrap the insult. He shook his head and looked up at another curving sculpture of some Sircan temple. "Man, you fuckers sure do love this Predecessor shit -- you gonna blow up a museum so you loot more'a this bullshit? Looks like a fuckin' gift shop in here..."

Samael smirked to himself as they walked through another set of doors into a larger room, where several other hoopsters were standing with the guy Samael assumed was 'Leader'. He was the only one who wasn't wearing a tie, although the fact everyone else seemed to be listening intently to whatever he'd been saying served as another clue. He smiled briefly at the interruption, his eyes scouring Andee and Samael as he lifted his hands in greeting.

"Welcome, friends! I hope your journey from Sampi was swift and free of any discomfort."

Andee flashed a saccharine smile and slapped a wing against Samael's legs. "I been sharin' a truck with this grunt for the last three periods, so it ain't been no fuckin' vacation...but yeah, yeah, we got here in one piece, and ya boys been givin' us a real nice tour of the place."

Glasses stepped forward and swept his arm out toward the duo. "Yes...Andee, right?" he began with a squint at the bat.

"Yeah," Andee replied coolly. They'd decided not to use monikers on the off-chance this hoop had heard of the oft-dealing bat or his Movement-loyal partner. The last thing they needed was an uncomfortable line of questioning of why they so closely resembled those other infamous bandits of the underground.

"Mmm, yes, Andee was just appreciating our relics," Glasses continued, nodding eagerly.

Leader placed a hand to his chest, his own smile stretching wide. "Oh? Do either of you have an interest in Sirca's past? You can call me 'Marshall', by the way."

Andee pushed the brim of his cap back by a few centimeters, allowing Samael to spot his cautious expression. "Ehh...not really my thing. I'm more of a future-lookin' kinda guy. Make the most of the present to set yaself up good and all that shit."

"Ah, the future, now that is a subject we appreciate around here," Marshall spouted while his fellow hoopsters all nodded. "And what better way to prepare for the future than by grasping into the history that made it?"

Samael cocked his head. These guys were a little weird, but they held a lot of the same beliefs he did. As he glanced down at Andee's wrinkled features, he wondered why his partner looked so distrustful.

Then again, Andee never was a fan of all that kinda deep thinking, not unless he was on a long trip to a good high.

"Rrrright," Andee began, his eyes shifting across the room before he cleared his throat loudly. "Speakin'-a presents, though...which one'a you bastages got our li'l gift of activation codes so we can get this show on the fuckin' road? I'm sure you fuckers are just as anxious to get them missiles hot 'n ready to launch up Omega's ass or whatever it is ya plannin' with your share..."

Marshall's features soured. "Omega." The name was a venomous bullet fired from his tongue. "He will face His downfall, but it won't be--"

Samael's intrigue was interrupted alongside the hoop boss's declaration as another door opened for two chupas to stride into the room. One of them wore a Hexagon-stamped cap as the other toted a small metal case. "Sorry we're late, Marshall, we--" The cap-wearing chupa nearly stumbled at the sight of Andee. "Uh. Whoa. They are real..."

Marshall gave a thin smile. "I apologize, Brother James is still learning how much more there is to Sirca than what the herd is shown."

Andee snorted but shrugged easily enough. "Ain't the first fuckin' time, won't be the last." He glared up at James, who was half-hiding behind his case-carrying companion. "Yeah, I'm a fuckin' bat, you gotta problem with that?"

Samael smiled himself and lifted a finger. "A bat with a buncha missiles that need codes!" he added cheerfully.

Andee shot him a look but offered the smallest nod of approval when Marshall grunted his agreement. "These two have come a long way for business. Did you check the cargo when you arrived?"

James gave Andee another sidelong glance before nodding and gesturing to his companion. "Marco confirmed -- they're all the XN-25 model."

"Ay! Who said you could go pokin' around our truck!?" Andee protested, throwing indignant arms wide. "You fuckers better not have no sticky fingers!"

Marco -- who seemed far more accepting of Andee's existence -- raised an eyebrow while moving toward a table where he could place his metal suitcase. "I'm not sure where you think we'd be hiding them."

"Up ya Hexagon-enhanced ass for all I know!" Andee blustered, even as he dropped his hands to his hips and meandered forward. "So the shit's legit?"

Samael's eyes moved to Marshall as he approached as well with a beguiling smile. "Did you doubt it might be?"

Andee scrunched up his muzzle. "I ain't one to base a job on faith, that's how ya get fuckin' screwed. I'm just makin' sure you assholes ain't tryna say we hauled some duds halfway 'cross the ring, is all."

Marshall's expression flattened. "A little faith goes a long way, Andee. Faith is what will bring us a better tomorrow, faith is what will shake the foundations of Omega's house when we call forth Sirca's true saviors."

"Geezus," Andee muttered, barely audible enough for Samael to hear at his side. He leveled a displeased frown at Samael, who did his best to interpret. Maybe Andee was so annoyed because these guys sounded like some of the more fanatical voices of the Movement. Memories of a sharp argument in a hazy cave tickled the back of Samael's neck.

"That's an interesting tattoo, Andee."

Marshall's voice whisked away the fog as Samael tensed at the detection of a poisonous undertone. "I wouldn't think your kind would be involved with the Movement." The final word left his jaws with the vitriol of a disgruntled parent.

Andee's eyes narrowed but his expression remained flat: "I thought we was here to do business, not have a fuckin' fashion critique." He shrugged easily, allowing Samael to appreciate the bat's own quick tongue. "Besides, my people ain't suicidal. I ain't got shit to do with those lunatics, I was just a dumb kid who thought the squiggly lines looked cool, asshole."

Marshall chuckled after a moment and Samael's shoulders lowered. Maybe he hated the Movement so much because he thought someone else was the 'true saviors'.

Samael could work with that.

The two Hexagon employees hunched over the briefcase as Marshall, Andee and Samael moved to join them behind the table. "I guess ain't no one here a big fan of the Movement," Samael drawled with an appraising eye locked on Marshall.

It was Andee who glared at him first, however, followed by a swift kick into his shin. "Shaddup. Adults are talking."

The look Marshall fixed onto Samael was entrancing -- this guy definitely had charisma when he wanted it. "Hold on, now, Andee. Your man's barely spoken this whole time. I'm interested in his opinion."

"Well I ain't, he's just here to be a fuckin' bullet sponge for me," Andee grumbled. "Good luck gettin' more than two coherent words outta this dumb fuck's face."

Marshall clucked his tongue. "Now, now. Tell me, what do you think of the Movement's attempts to dethrone a god?" he inquired before peering into the case where Marco had begun to organize a sheaf of papers. "Ah, excuse me a moment. Brother Marco, how do these work?"

Andee took the moment of distraction to bare his teeth up at Samael, gesturing briskly with his finger across his throat. Samael offered a sheepish half-smile and tipped his head in a minuscule show of obedience.

Marco lifted one of the papers, upon which a string of numbers and letters had been printed. "You need a matching launcher -- which, yes, we brought some with us --"

"And which you're givin' some to us, too, right?!" Andee interjected.

James and Marco both scowled at the bat, though Marshall only smiled in bemusement. "Of course, Andee." His eyes went back to Samael while Marco continued his explanation.

"The launchers establish a connection over shortwave with the nearest Hexagon transmission tower, then you enter the code, and it verifies that it's unused." Marco grinned and bowed slightly. "After that, the power is in your hands, Leader."

"Ay, what's that bullshit 'bout transmittin' back to Hexagon?" Andee sputtered, jabbing a claw toward Marco. "You tellin' me your fuckin' manager's gonna see whenever we blast a load??"

Marco rolled his eyes as James leaned around him to respond. "That's why I'm here. I can hack the launchers to send false RPS coordinates."

"Good." Marshall nodded before whistling to Wristwatch. "Go fetch Brother Noel and bring the treasury."

Andee glowered up at the hoop boss. "We ain't settled on an amount yet."

"That's why I'm sending for it all," he replied around a chuckle. "But before we deal..." He met Samael's eyes once more. "I still wish to hear your man's answer."

"Listen, ya bastard, I ain't payin' for this idiot's mouth," Andee began, only for Marshall to interrupt sharply.

"I insist."

Andee joined nearly every other gaze in the room as all eyes settled on Samael. But this kind of pressure was his playground, and he smiled easily while allowing a jaunty flick of his tail. "The Movement's gotta be shootin' up more'n bullets if they think they's gonna bring down Omega." Marshall's words helped guide his rudder. "They ain't gotta fuckin' chance. They ain't got the numbers, they ain't got the plan, and they definitely ain't got the sweet hook-ups to give 'em an inside track to the big fucker himself. Someone else is gonna hafta double-tap that asshole."

A few seconds ticked past, leaving Andee and Samael to stew in Marshall's measuring stare. But a small smile eventually broke his flat expression. "Mmm. Andee should let you speak more, you have such a unique way with words." Some of his fellow hoopsters laughed as well. "You are right, though. Someone else is going to drag Omega from His illegitimate throne, and all of Sirca will soon see the truth."

Samael nodded back with a cheerful smile bolstered further by his confidence. "Hell yeah!" He felt a pointed elbow jab into his side but he brushed a reassuring tuft into Andee's back. "Whole ring's gonna see he ain't nothin' but a crusty ol' douchebag, ain't nothin' immortal about him!"

Marshall's expression snapped to muted fury fast enough to give Samael whiplash. "But He is immortal."

Samael blinked in confusion. "Wut?"

"He is a god who has given Himself a false altar, an impure god who will face divine reckoning, but He is a god."

Andee's fingers rushed out to clamp fiercely into his partner's leg, but Samael couldn't avoid his bewildered expression. "Uh...I mean, I ain't sure about all that, who's gonna--"

"The Predecessors," Marshall hissed.

"Sammy, shut the fuck up," Andee growled.

The rebel looked down at his companion blankly while lifting his hands a bit. "I just wanna know what a buncha old, dead guys gonna do--"

"Blasphemy!" Samael stared stupidly at Marshall before twisting automatically as Andee barked a warning.

"Fiffy, behind you!"

His fist was already soaring through the air, connecting with the throat of a hoopster who still managed to shove a sparking rod into Samael's chest. The rebel yelped as electricity coursed through his body, causing him to spasm wildly before he instinctively kicked the dropped weapon into the face of another chupa rushing toward them.

Andee's strangled curse spun him back around to see his partner collapsing with a series of convulsions as Marshall held a smaller device against the bat's neck. "You sonuvabitch!" Samael roared, charging the hoop boss with an arm cocked and ready to fire.

Glasses seemed to materialize between the two and Samael's surprised uppercut broke the wrong chupa's jaw. Marshall barely hesitated as he shoved aside his dazed underling to jam the stun-gun into the redneck's throat. Another burst of static shock made Samael's fur stand on end, an agonized howl flying from his maw. But his eyes burned defiantly and he forced his trembling arm upward so he could grasp into Marshall's wrist, reconnecting the surge to its summoner.

Marshall squealed and flung himself backward at the shared jolt, his weapon dropping to the ground and leaving Samael to turn shakily toward Andee. "G-gotcha, hon," he whispered before arching his spine with another yowl as a sharp prick lodged into his back and pumped another rush of electricity into him. "F-fuck!!" He tried to turn and face his opponent, only for a third numbing bite to augment the paralyzing voltage.

He faltered and lost control of his limbs, eyes wide on the rapid descent to the unforgiving floor. He could only stare at Andee's unconscious features for a second or two before a swift blow to the back of his skull finally shoved him over the edge to tumble into the abyss as darkness overcame his senses.

"It's the same fuckin' shit as before, Fiffy!"

Samael kept his eyes closed, begging the tears to stay safely out of sight. He'd been trying to focus through the pounding of his skull, past the twinge of every frayed nerve, beyond the acid of his partner's tirade, His body was in pain, but his soul ached, and he wasn't sure what hurt more. "Andee, please --"

"No, Sammy!" Andee snapped, slamming a fist into the bars of their confined space. "When the fuck are you gonna grow the fuck up and figure out this whole fuckin' 'win the war, kill God' bullshit ain't nothin' more than a fuckin' pipe-dream?!? I don't give a fuck what Tracer told you, you tell me a single fucking time that Nelson's ever said it. Go on, ya stupid piece'a shit, one time, I'll fuckin' wait!"

There was no stopping the deluge this time as Samael's claws drove into his cheeks, his body trembling helplessly as his tail wilted with a muted jingle. His knuckles grew damp as the shuddering quake of his chest made him feel that much smaller in the corner of the cell.

"Great, now the fuckin' baby's cryin' again," Andee muttered, his talons breaking once more into a frustrated pace along the front of the massive cage. "It's time to join reality -- your own fuckin' rebel momma don't believe that shit, so get ya fuckin' head outta your ass. That old bastard said whatever the fuck he wanted to convince all you stupid motherfuckers to sign up for suicide. And now he's fuckin' dead, so you need to wake the fuck up." Samael heard a derisive snort before the distinct flutter of a wing flicking upward in resignation. "Or get the fuck outta my life, because I ain't doin' this fuckin' dance with you again."

Samael did his best to swallow his emotions, though a messy hiccup still gave away his choked-back sob. "Th-then...then what the fuck're we doin', hon?" He stared through blurred eyes at the defiant lines carved into his wrist. "Why...why are we..."

"Listen, dumbfuck, if Nelson thought you assholes had a chance at ganking that fucker, she'd be sending your fanatical ass to the front of the goddamn charge!" Andee raged before a ragged sigh punctuated his fury, his angry voice collapsing into a weary mutter. "Everyone might hate that cunt, me included, but she ain't a fuckin' idiot. Maybe I bitch about all the risky fuckin' jobs she sends you on, but she ain't ever done nothin' that wasn't gonna keep the Movement alive." Samael looked up just as the bat turned a cold shoulder toward him. "You can have my fuckin' apology the day that paranoid bitch sends you to the Citadel."

Samael had been awakened by Andee's moodily kicking his ribs after they'd been locked up inside one of several makeshift cells within a warehouse-like building. His shirt had been removed during his unconsciousness, no doubt nullifying their earlier attempt to avoid association with the Movement, unless they could tell a really convincing tale about Samael's tattoos as well.

None of the other cells were occupied, though the room itself seemed to double as a storage space, since several wooden crates and half-covered bits of Predecessor sculptures and artifacts surrounded them. It was just distracting enough to make them pretend they weren't wondering exactly why the hoop had constructed multiple oversized cages in the same room.

One of the hoopsters had patrolled past as Andee was assaulting Samael back to life, squinting through the bars to ensure they were both awake before scurrying through one of the room's doors. They'd been left alone long enough for Andee to give Samael his unfiltered opinion of how the job had been going so far.

Wasn't all that positive.

Samael stared at Andee's back for a few seconds before mumbling, if only for the sake of interrupting his encroaching thoughts, "I'm...I'm real sorry, hon. I...I shoulda known. Summin' felt off about this hoop, they's...they's real strange..."

"Yeah, no shit, there ain't a lotta normal cults out there, ya gotta be half-fuckin'-crazy just to join in the first place," Andee spat out as he clung to the bars and tested the width with his narrow muzzle.

Samael frowned and shifted his weight, attempting to recall where he'd previously he'd heard that term. "Oh, so...so that means they don't...uhm. Believe...in..."

He trailed off at the sight of Andee's shoulders lifting as a low growl emanated from his slender chest. "Fuckin' christ, you really that fuckin' naive?! You don't know what a goddamn cult is?" He twisted his head around, his eyes glowing furiously over a shoulder. "For fuck's sake, you's practically in one, yaself..."

The rebel worked his maw a few times as embarrassment and shame collided in his thoughts. He struggled to put the word into context, desperate to take Andee's hint and curtail any further wrath. "N-no, I mean. I get it, they're, uh. They don't like the House none, just like the Movement."

He did his best to inject a measure of his long-lost confidence, but the condescending disappointment in his partner's glare told him Andee wasn't blind to his charisma, not this time. "It's almost fuckin' sad how close you are," Andee seethed, throwing his arms wide before shoving a finger toward the chupa. "Ya shiny-slick act ain't so fuckin' impressive from this goddamn side. Fuck!" He smashed into the bars once more and Samael flinched. "All ya had to do was keep ya fuckin' mouth shut! I've fuckin' accepted the fact you's a fuckin' inbred, brain-dead, dumb motherfucker, but now it's fuckin' with business!" Andee lunged closer and Samael shrunk into himself while pressing against the back of the cell. "Now it's gonna fuckin' get us killed!"

Samael's toes curled in self-loathing even as he mumbled a cracked, pitiful denial. "We...we're not gonna die, Andee. This ain't gonna be the day..."

"Oh yeah, wise guy??" Andee thrust a hand down to clutch into the thick fur on Samael's chest, his eyes burning into the rebel's. "Then tell me what that motherfucker Marshall's doing, right now! 'Cause sure, you's a fuckin' moron when it comes to bein' smart, when it comes to knowin' about the world...you might not be able to read a fuckin' book but I know you can read any fuckin' bastard you lay eyes on for more than thirty seconds..." Andee's teeth clenched loud enough to make Samael's jaw hurt as the bat shoved their muzzles together. "So fuckin' tell me, what's gonna happen!?"

Samael trembled, though it wasn't from any fear of their predicament. He stared into the pinpricks of Andee's eyes before shifting his gaze sheepishly to one side. "He...he's crazy, but he ain't too stupid to pass up on a deal. I don't think he'd been runnin' no hoop if he just wanted to be some kinda...off-brand preacher," he mumbled while worrying his claws into the hem of his shorts. "They prob'ly seent my burns, figgered we was lyin' about who I'm with." Samael nibbled at his lip while closing his eyes. "If...I was him, I'd be callin' around to see if anyone else has done business with us...or is lookin' for us. Maybe see 'bout doin' that thing where you pay money to let someone go..."

"It's called a fuckin' 'ransom', shit-for-brains," Andee provided icily before groaning, shoving Samael back, and turning around to grip into the bars and bash his head between them. "Fuckin' great, so we ain't gonna die here, you're right about that. Instead, we'll get handed off to some fucker one of us pissed off who's gonna torture us, then kill us. Fan-fuckin'-tastic..."

Samael winced but creaked open his eyes once more, stealing a nervous look at his partner. "It. It ain't gonna be like that..."

"It's gonna be exactly like that, Sammy!" Andee fumed, twisting around to storm in a furious circle once again. "I know what ya fuckin' thinkin' -- but this ain't like that shit with Delacroix!" The bat shoved a finger into a palm to accent each word while glowering at the chupa. "There ain't no fuckin' blind, love-sick, suicidal motherfucker gonna come save us, 'cause you're trapped in here with me, and ain't no one even fuckin' knows where we are!!"

Samael's shoulders began to crest his cheeks until his eyes widened with a hopeful thought. "York 'n Wash do!" he blurted, trying to ignore the immolating glare it earned. "At the fuel stop, I let 'em know we was doin' a job out here in Blarganthia!"

"Oh, well never mind then, the day is fuckin' saved!" Andee exclaimed through a saccharine grin and enough sarcasm to drown a crawbear. "You tell 'em the fuckin' coordinates, too?! Or do we just fuckin' hope they start the fuckin' territory-wide sweep at Highguard so they can dredge us up before the fish skull-fuck us outta leavin' a pretty corpse?!?"

Samael grimaced but kept his optimism. "We just gotta get a hold of 'em...or send out some kinda signal..."

"And even if we can?" Andee countered as he faced the rebel and planted moody hands on doubtful hips. "Then what? Fuck them, they ain't gonna lift a goddamn finger for us." He spat to the side as Samael rubbed the back of his neck. "No one on this fuckin' ring gives a shit about anyone else, that's the real fuckin' lesson you gotta learn..."

Shaking his head with determined defiance, Samael refused the beckoning of apathy. His passion for life was too strong...hell, so was Andee's.

They were better than this.

"That's not true," Samael declared with a quiet huff, sitting up and glaring back at Andee. His companion looked surprised by the rebuttal. "They're our friends, like it or not. An' maybe Wash would say no, 'cuz--"

"Because even though that stupid were-bitch is your best friend, his shitty-ass pine cone hates ya fuckin' guts!" Andee retorted. "I ain't puttin' my fuckin' fate in that asshole's hands!"

Samael chewed his lip before shifting to a kneel and gesturing emphatically, changing his tack to ride out Andee's tempest. "Then we ain't gotta! We'll figure out summin', we always do! C'mon, hon, we been through worse than this." He reached a hand out, mindful of Andee's sharp glare even as he fearlessly grasped his partner's arm. "Please don't give up."

Andee snatched his limb away after a moment, but the way he rubbed at his wrist sent a hopeful twinge through Samael's spine. "Don't try that fuckin' redneck razzle-dazzle on me, I ain't one'a ya fuckin' targets," Andee grumbled. The anger was draining from his eyes, however, and he met Samael's gaze evenly before finally plopping down to sit across from the rebel. "But lucky for you, I'm too fuckin' stubborn, too. Just like you, asshole." He sighed and pulled at one of his ears while cocking a brow expectantly. "So what's the fuckin' plan, then, Fiffy?"

"Hmm. Never heard of Delacroix or his...Garden..." Marshall paused for dramatic effect, glancing up from the notepad he'd been handed by one of his lackeys. "But several others in our circles seem to be upset about his death."

He smiled coolly at Andee. "Someone named 'Baskins' was particularly interested in his killers."

Andee flicked a finger along the bottom of his muzzle as Samael strode past his partner to the front of their cell. "C'mon, Marshall, we ain't gotta do all this," the chupa murmured, swinging his tail slowly to and fro to emit a gentle chime. "We c'n still work summin' out."

Marshall's eyes darted to Samael and the redneck reached out to clutch into the bars while cocking his hips to one side. "You don't wanna do no business with Baskins, he's an asshole. He ain't gonna treat ya right."

He supplemented his tender tone with a spoonful of honey and watched eagerly for Marshall's hesitation. But after a few seconds, the hoopster smiled briskly and looked back down to the yellow paper. "Someone else heard that a bat and his short chupa rebel bodyguard sent the Hammersmith boys to their graves. Said it means you must work for the Hula Club."

"Maybe we do, fuckface -- so you probably wanna let us go before Miss Sov sends a whole fuck-you-crew to give ya boys here a buncha free lobotomies!" Andee snarled as he approached the bars next to Samael. Samael twitched but otherwise maintained his hopeful gaze.

Marshall shifted his glare to Andee and offered a dry chuckle. "Sov makes the rest of us look like kittens. She won't lift a finger for two errand boys." He looked back at Samael. "And any 'deal' you propose is worthless. We have the missiles, we have the codes, and we know who you are. We know how much you're worth to the right people."

"But you dunno how much we could be worth to you," Samael murmured, tightening his fingers around the bars and pressing his torso into the iron. "We ain't just delivery boys, you ain't even seen half of what we c'n give you..."

His motions were as sinuous as his words and one of Marshall's flanking hoopsters cleared his throat while sheepishly adjusting his coat in a lame attempt to pull it over his lap. Samael only had eyes for the leader, however, biting his lip and pleading with every ounce of his physical presence.

"We want the same thing, Marshall...we both wanna see a ring without Omega sittin' up top," Samael added, pressing his forehead to the front of the cage. "Let's work together..."

Marshall stared back for a moment before laughing in disbelief. "Together?!? You Movement dogs are blind idiots, denying a simple truth just to give your bleating masses a false hope. Burying your heads to avoid reality, living on the squalid dreams of your imaginations. As if a god can be brought down by mortals! Ha!" He stepped forward and propelled a mocking finger at Samael. "You could have witnessed fate itself, been party to the glorious battle between Sirca's true masters and her cruel, impotent steward." His eyes grew cold as he leaned into Samael's wanton gaze without so much a flinch of distraction. "But instead you'll be tortured to death by the highest bidder while your surviving pack of mongrels continues its hopeless fight without you."

He turned on his heel and strode briskly out while calling over a shoulder. "We have more contacts to inform...but don't worry!" He grinned icily back at them. "At least you'll find out the measure of your soul. Most of Sirca will never be that lucky."

"Ay, ya stupid bastard!" Andee hollered as he flung himself into the air to cling to the top of the bars, yelling desperately after Marshall. "All that shit ya said was just 'bout the Movement! And I ain't even with those fucks!! Lemme go, we'll cut a deal, just you 'n me!!"

Samael stepped backward with a blank expression, his hands dropping to his sides. His sweet-talking was the stuff of legend, one of his greatest assets...but he hadn't made Marshall waver, not even once.

One of the remaining hoopsters approached the cell with a disgusted snort. "Does that whore-act ever actually work for you?" he inquired as Samael barely looked up from his slump.

Andee grunted and slid partially down the bars while half-gesturing in Samael's direction. "More often than ya think," he replied evenly. "He gives really good blowjobs..."

The hoopster sneered. "Pitiful. You must deal with so many weak-spirited people. That won't do shit around here -- Leader only allows the strongest of wills to join the inner sanctum."

Samael looked to one side, his usual lack of shame giving way to the loathsome reality of who he truly was. But Andee didn't add to the mockery, dropping down from the bars to stand in front of Samael with his hands on his hips. "Oh yeah? Then tell me why Chucklefuck back there's gotta wet spot on the front'a his pants," the bat intoned mildly.

Their tormentor flinched before glaring over his shoulder at the remaining hoopster, who immediately tried pulling his jacket even lower. "D-don't listen to them, Ronnie! I-i-it's just...coffee!"

"Goddammit, Paul," Ronnie muttered, glowering back at the duo. "Paul's new. And also just broke up with his girlfriend."

"Then tell Paul to bring us some water later on so Sammy can be his fuckin' rebound!" Andee taunted. Ronnie turned a disgusted face and backed away to shove his compatriot toward the door. "Don't be a bitch, Ronnie, you can be lucky contestant number two! Best blowjob ya ever gonna get, ya ugly sack'a shit!"

"I can't wait to see who pays to drag your sorry hides out of here," Ronnie snarled from the doorway. "May the Predecessors erase you from history, assholes."

The door slammed and Andee spat crudely through the bars before turning around with a grumble. "Fuckin' cults. Had to be a fuckin' cult, these motherfuckers are..." He trailed off as Samael hesitantly looked at him, pursing his lips and then flopping down to sit across from Samael once more. "Real good job with that silver tongue, Fiffy. Told ya it wasn't sterling..."

Samael drew his claws across his chest, his tail curling apologetically around a leg. "I...I...yeah." He took a deep breath and then propped up a lame smile. "M-maybe they got them another 'Paul' they don't know about. I'll see if I cain't work some magic on the next fella who comes to check on us."

"Eh, with our luck, Marshall had 'em all castrated or some shit," Andee groused. "It'd hafta be a buncha no-dicked, no-balled motherfuckers that my whore of a puppy can't get all riled up." Samael found a tentative smile, and Andee regarded it with a faint smirk of his own. "I thought that asshole York was doin' all your teachin', but fuck me; I'm gonna hafta step the fuck in so you end up learnin' about more than just picture-books 'n pornos..."

He huffed but extended a wing all the same to brush it briefly across Samael's paw. "I'll give ya the abridged course on cults if we get outta here alive. And since it don't look like you's gonna suck-and-fuck our way to freedom this time...I'm all-fuckin'-ears for Plan B."

Samael nodded once, savoring every drop of Andee's determination. His trust.

It was all Samael would ever need to hold on.

"A'right, hon...so." His eyes latched onto Andee's poncho. "I'm guessin' they took all yer toys, else we'd already be lookin' back through a bat-'n-Fiffy-shaped hole in the wall?"

"No shit, this place would be holey-er than an Omegradian cathedral," Andee muttered, lifting the purple-and-orange garment for emphasis. "I left a buncha goodies in the truck, but they weren't kind enough to lock that rusty bitch up with us."

"'S okay, just wanted to be sure," Samael replied before reaching down to grasp into his tail. Andee frowned in confusion as he watched the chupa unscrew one of the spherical ends of the bar that pierced through the appendage. "How close're you to fittin' through these bars?"

Andee tipped his head to the side while Samael winced at the sensation of the crimson metal gliding free. "I ain't a fatass like you, so pretty fuckin' close." The bat grunted and climbed back to his feet so he could ease his shoulder through the nearest wall of their cage. "Few centimeters and I bet I could get between."

Samael pulled the now-loose ring over his tuft and free of his tail, presenting the two pieces to Andee with a small smile. "Then let's get us a few centimeters." Andee scowled, but Samael could see the gears already turning in his partner's head. "This ol' cave rock's tougher'n any iron I ever seent." He pointed to the furthest corner of the cell. "I'mma start wedgin' a gap if you c'n keep a lookout on all them doors, hon."

Andee's snort carried more doubt than his inquisitive expression. "The fuck kinda redneck-ass shit...you tellin' me you can make a spreader outta ya tail piercing?"

A more confident smile slipped into place on Samael's muzzle. "Bring out them piercings you got down below, then I c'n show ya a real spreader..."

Words failed to express the delight of seeing Andee's helpless grin. "Ya cocky, midget-ass slut..." He chuckled and watched as Samael scooted over to start forcing the bar and hoop between two of the vertical supports. "How much time we gonna need for this backwoods jail-break?"

"This is 'bout as barebones as a wedge c'n get, so it ain't gonna be quick," Samael muttered with a grimace of effort, looking up at his companion with a smaller smile. "But it's better 'n sittin' on our asses waitin' to die, right?"

"Ya damn right," Andee uttered as he turned to watch through the front of their cell. "Maybe you's right, Fiffy. Maybe today ain't gonna be the day..."

Samael fervently labored away, twisting the red-toned bar against its matching hoop to coax a gap between the iron columns. It was a daunting chore, measured in millimeters of progress, but the occasional squeal of metal from the two vertical supports echoed determination. Andee, on the other hand, was in the throes of impatience, alternating between pacing at the front of the cell, pacing behind Samael while glaring over his shoulder, and pacing the walls themselves as he clambered anxiously across the surface of the cage's interior.

They'd been brought scraps of food and a rather demeaning bowl of water, along with a few taunts to inform the duo which eager party seemed most likely to offer the heftiest bounty on their heads. But Andee and Samael both played their roles with aplomb during the interactions, Samael slumping into a forlorn malaise whenever his partner warned of an impending interruption while the bat proceeded to bluster loudly and demand freedom, a better meal, and occasionally a blunt pipe so he could beat the shit out of their captors.

The hours slid into an entire period and a half passing them by with fewer and fewer visits from Marshall. The hoopsters on guard duty rotated in turn, but Samael's attempt at swooning the latest sentries were met with similar rejection as before. Escape was their best option at this point.

They shared the barely-edible sustenance and took turns napping in short shifts, saving their focus for Samael's tiny-scaled prison break. The chupa's fingers burned from the small yet agonizing motions, but every creaking millimeter gained provided a welcome trickle of enthusiasm.

As he worked, Andee overheard something about an upcoming job that would require most of the hoop to attend, which only made his buzzing about more frenetic. The bat growled and cursed whenever he flit back to Samael, drumming an impetuous tattoo on his companion's shoulder while leaning over him to gauge his progress. "You sure you makin' any fuckin' headway, Fiffy? Looks the same as it did eight goddamn hours ago..." The bat squinted at the now-visible gap in the bars, unable to help himself from the tiny smile as Samael bumped his maw lightly into his. "Quit that gay shit 'n keep workin'...most'a these brainwashed fuck-faces is still gone, it'd be the best fuckin' time to bust out..."

"Goin' as fast as I can, hon," Samael murmured while taking a moment to shake the cramping out of one hand. The room they were in had a few windows that were covered with metal shutters, but enough sunlight still streamed through that he could estimate the time. "Got maybe two more periods 'fore Nelson starts wonderin' why the hell we ain't come back from the caves..." He sighed to disperse his fleeting hopes. "Though maybe someone at Sidewinder picked up all the radio chatter tryna get our heads tagged 'n sold..."

Andee chewed his tongue for a few seconds before he grunted and squeezed his fingers tightly around Samael's shoulder. "You got this, Sammy." The chupa began a smile, only for the bat's additional grumble to smother it: "In two more periods we'll be tied up in a fuckin' trunk, so keep goin'. Ain't no one gonna save us but ourselves..."

Samael wasn't as sociopathic as his partner, but he knew better than to spout off the values of friendship and teamwork and community. Besides, Andee had a point. They'd only had each other to rely on during the job in Episemon, or inside the caves of Highguard, or deep within Sidewinder's icy heart.

They truly made an incredible pair.

Samael brushed some excess sweat from his brow before forcing one more twist of the bar against the hoop. The cage supports whimpered and he smiled in satisfaction, barely aware of his own panting. "A'right, hon...phew. Lessee if you c'n fit."

Andee tilted his head as he studied the gap, then grumbled while pushing away from Samael's back. "Lemme go make sure I don't hear no fuckers comin'...you get that magic Sampi shit outta my way, I'm fuckin' ready to get outta here..."

They hadn't quite planned out any additional steps to this plan, but Samael figured if Andee was free from confinement, well. They'd tackle that issue shortly. As Andee fluttered to the front of the cell to poke an ear through and listen for any approaching voices, Samael gingerly extracted both parts of his piercing from between the bars. He winced when they flexed slightly back together, but the gap remained, still a promising sight to his weary eyes.

He glanced up when his partner came waddling back, Andee's fingers already busy undoing his thick collar to toss at the chupa. "Here, Fiffy...'n take this, too!" he whispered before quickly shedding his poncho.

"Gimme yer hat, too, sweet thing," Samael urged.

Andee shot him a grumpy look, but reached up to remove it as well. "Don't fuckin' lose it like last time. And quit starin' at me, ya horny fuck!"

Samael grinned stupidly, his eyes shamelessly disobeying as they drifted across his partner's sleek frame. "Ain't my fault yer so damn fine. Now I know why all them dumb folks in the movies be havin' sex in the middle'a all them life'r death situations...'s kinda hot..."

Andee rolled his eyes but allowed a minuscule smirk to emerge as he shoved the cap onto Samael's head, then hopped toward the corner of the cell. "You ain't suckin' me off through these bars," he grumbled. Samael smiled and made a careful pile of poncho and collar while leaving the too-small hat on his skull as he knelt on one side of the gap.

Andee squatted low and began by sticking a stumpy leg through the bars, next easing his hips toward the gap. He grimaced when he met resistance, squirming a bit and attempting to wiggle between the metal. "Fuck!"

"Keep tryna tell everyone you got a great ass, now it's gettin' us into trouble," Samael remarked mildly.

"I ain't fat!" Andee hissed over his shoulder.

"But that butt sure is," Samael retorted with a wink before he leaned over and then curled his fingers around one of the bent bars. His arms were too thick to pass between the supports, forcing him to all but straddle Andee so he could grip into both columns. "Okay, hon...gonna pull as hard as I can, lemme know if you need a push."

"I don't need a fuckin' push," Andee growled before gritting his teeth and shoving harder into the gap while Samael grunted in exertion above him and pulled at the bars with all his might. "Fuuuuuck, c'mon', c'mon, c'mon," the bat snarled while wedging his hips as best he could. "Little bit more, Fiffy!"

"A-Ah'm tr-tryin'," Samael muttered through clenched jaws, his arms trembling violently as his muscles wailed in protest. But the bars creaked again and Andee gained several centimeters with a victorious gasp. The leg still on the inside of the cage scrabbled for purchase as the bat groaned with the effort of getting his other hip through the gap.

"Knee, knee, gimme yer fuckin' --" Samael obeyed without question, raising one of his legs so Andee's talons could clamp into it. Sweat poured over the chupa's features and he whimpered a warning of exhaustion. "You got this, Samael, c'mon, tough guy, just a...little..." Andee pushed firmly into Samael's knee and managed to force his torso entirely through. "Fuck yeah!" he wheezed.

"H-hurry up, h-h-hon," Samael stammered. He cracked one eye through the deluge of sweat to see Andee easing a shoulder through the gap, then turning his head to the side so his slender muzzle could follow. His earring clinked ominously against the metal, but it only took a few squirms to work his cheekbones past. Samael's arms screamed in desperation, every nerve on fire. "N-now, Andee!"

"That ain't helpin'!" Andee spat out after his head popped free. He worked his chest between the gap next, but Samael could feel his arms giving out. The bat cursed between his teeth as the bars started to slowly compress his upper body, and when he looked back awkwardly at the sight of Samael's frantic wobbling, he traded his insult for a resigned moan. "Fuck, okay, push, push, gimme a push!"

Samael complied instantly, raising a paw and placing it against his partner's arm before extending his leg as carefully as he could through the clamor of alarm bells. He heard an undignified squawk and a glorious break of pressure as he collapsed backward with a whine. Andee thumped against something but Samael couldn't find the strength to even lift his head to see where his partner landed. "Y-you good, hon?" he whispered hoarsely to the ceiling, his arms shivering at his sides.

"I'm fuckin' great," came the sarcastic reply, muffled by the pounding in the chupa's ears. He felt the brush of leather against his toe-claws, realizing after a moment his lower leg was still flopped through the bars. "Good fuckin' job...christ, those muscles really ain't just for show..."

Samael was too exhausted to be proud, but he managed a weak thumbs up before finally raising his head. Andee stood over him from the outside of the cell, brushing at his nude form and shaking out his arms and legs. He frowned down at the chupa, leaning forward while gripping into the bent bars. "Geezus...you okay, ya dumb beefy bastard?" Actual concern tinged his words and Samael closed his eyes with a faint smile as his chest heaved with the effort of catching his breath.

"H...how...'bout that b-blowjob?"

Samael nibbled the inside of his cheek as he watched Andee straighten the cap between his ears. Once more decked out in the gear that Samael had passed between the bars, Andee's eyes repeatedly darted to the doors lining the large room. "I dunno, Sammy..."

He could trust Andee, in spite of the expectations, in spite of the very words Andee himself spouted. They were partners. "It'll be jus' like Highguard, they ain't even gonna see ya," Samael insisted.

"Fuckin' caves are a lot different than some goddamn chupa-ass buildings!" Andee retorted as he gestured upward. "There ain't even no fuckin' rafters! They'll peg my ass before I can even cross the room, let alone find the goddamn keys!"

Samael shifted his weight before tossing up a sheepish smile. "Aw, c'mon, at worst you'll jus' end up back in here, an'--"

"Nah, I think these fuckers might just shoot without their fuckin' precious Leader around to tell 'em not to," Andee argued. "And besides, it's your goddamn fault we got locked up at all!" The bat took a step back and eyed the door at the furthest end of the room. "I think that's close to an exit. I'mma slip out, get to the fuckin' radio and call someone to come get your ass."

Samael gripped into the bars as his heart sank and his panic rose. "Andee, ya cain't leave me here--"

"Don't you fuckin' tell me what I can't do!" Andee hissed, shoving a finger at the wilted rebel. He regarded Samael's cower with a cold eye, though he grumbled after a moment and lowered his furious arm. "You wanna keep up this partner thing, then we can't keep bein' so fuckin' stupid. We pull off some crazy shit, sure, and I ain't no fuckin' bitch, but I ain't even gotta fuckin' blade to pull on those high-strung fucks out there!" he growled while pointing toward the opposite door. "When I said you was mine, that wasn't supposed to be some kinda suicide pact, asshole!" Samael swallowed thickly but was surprised when the bat's tone softened the slightest bit. "We can't keep doin' all this badass shit we's doin' if we're dead, right?"

Samael's soul twinged once more. Andee was right, and if this had been a job Nelson had given to him, he would have suggested the same. The smart move was to get backup, for at least one member of the team to stay out of harm's way and find a way to free the rest.

...But part of Samael maybe wanted Andee to prove there was more to this than just business.

He worried his lip and leaned into the bars, opening his maw to try and bullshit a middle-of-the-road plan...only for them both to twist their heads around at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Andee glared at Samael and quickly beat his wings to throw himself into the air, making a beeline for the largest of the crates to land upon in a low crouch.

Moments later, Wristwatch shouldered through the door with a grunt. A half-eaten sandwich was his primary focus as he wiped his free hand against his shirt. "Mmfph...s'posed to thee if you..." A pause as he swallowed his bite. Samael's stomach growled but he kept his focus, eyes flicking over to Andee's crate. It was taller than Wristwatch by almost half a meter, allowing Andee's flattened form to remain hidden while the hoopster strode past. "Mmm. See if you assholes needed more water..."

Samael jumped up to press against the front of the cell as Wristwatch approached. "Aw hell, that sammich looks amazin'! Listen, I know y'all ain't allowed to get no head, but I'll give ya the best handy if you lemme have just a bite!!" he pleaded.

"Christ..." was the only disgusted response, though the ploy worked to keep the hoopster several paces away. Perhaps he thought he'd catch Samael's affliction if he was within whispering distance. "Nevermind, you weirdos are clearly fine." He started to turn, sandwich once more in his jaws, then hesitated and twisted his head back around with a frown. "Where'sth the flying rath?"

Samael's tail flicked and he repositioned himself into a more playful pose against the bars. "Aw, ain't no reason to be anti-batty. Two shots 'n two minutes with one'a them li'l cutie-pies, you'll be wantin' more'n some ham 'n cheese in yer mouth..."

Wristwatch took several seconds to process the redneck's words. He recoiled somewhat when the realization hit, wrinkling his muzzle and stepping back from the cell. "Ugh..." But to Samael's chagrin, the hoopster wasn't quite satisfied. "Wait...I don't..." His eyes widened after a more thorough visual sweep of the cage revealed only Samael. "Shit!"

Wristwatch dropped the sandwich in favor of digging out a pistol to level it at the rebel, who thrust his hands upward with an innocent smile. "Hey, now, you wanna bat-friend, you gotta go get yer own...this li'l firebomb's with me!"

"Where is he?!" Wristwatch demanded as he lurched closer and flicked off the safety, then whipped his head around to check the room. "Tell me, now, or I'll --"

"Wallace!" a different voice shouted from the same door. "We gotta fuckin' problem!" Samael leaned closer, his eyes narrowed curiously. "They took out Tommy and Jonah! Fuck those guys, get back out here!"

Wristwatch -- or Wallace, apparently -- hesitated. A brief burst of gunfire sounded from outside the room and he flinched, then focused once more on Samael. The rebel tensed his arms at the shift in Wallace's features. He squared his stance as the hoopster squinted and then lifted the pistol once more. "No one's gonna screw Leader over..." Samael grit his teeth, readying himself for the barrel that swung between his chest and forehead. "Let's see how much you're worth now--"

"Heads up, motherfucker!"

Wallace spun around in shock as Samael stared wide-eyed at Andee descending with his wings unfurled and talons outstretched. "Holy shit!" Wallace yelped, pulling the trigger on instinct. Samael cursed but the round went wide an instant before Andee collided with the hoopster's face, an incoherent yell flying from his maw. His unforgiving claws slashed deep scratches across Wallace's face as he lunged for the gun with both hands.

Samael's fingers clung harder into the bars and he watched breathlessly. He wanted to be terrified for Andee...but his pride roared louder than any whimper of fear. Wallace stumbled backward as he squealed and wrestled for control of the handgun, though the frantic pounding of his fist against Andee's back had no visible effect on the bat's fervor. One, two, three rounds were fired into the ceiling before Andee finally yanked the pistol free and kicked away from the chupa.

With both hands wrapped around the gun, the now-flightless bat could only perform an ungainly flop onto his hindquarters. Andee snarled and struggled to figure out the weapon while Wallace slammed against Samael's cell from the momentum of the kick. "You little shit!" he wheezed, attempting to elbow away from the bars toward the bat only to shout in frustration as Samael grabbed his tail through the bars and yanked back hard.

"Fuck you!" Andee seethed, turning the gun over a few times and then finally giving a sharp laugh as a finger found its way into the trigger guard. Samael's eyes bulged and he quickly ducked behind Wallace's torso before the gun blasted twice, resulting in a surprised squawk from Andee. The pistol flew out of his hands as Wallace gasped and clutched his now-bleeding shoulder. "Ah shit!" Andee shouted, scrambling after the gun while shaking out his arms.

"I really gotta teach you to shoot, hon," Samael mumbled, thrusting an arm as far as it would go through the bars to grab into Wallace's wrist. "Sorry, pal," he added sympathetically, giving Wallace long enough to gawk over his injured shoulder before Samael yanked his arm through the bars. He grimaced and twisted the limb briskly to encourage a sickening snap, then allowed the screaming hoopster to fall forward limply only to haul back even harder so that Wallace's skull bashed against the front of the cell.

His agonized wail morphed into a warbling moan as he slumped into the cage and collapsed. Andee and Samael exchanged glances before the chupa let out a cheerful whoop while shoving his hands into the air. "Fuckin' awesome! We kicked his ass!"

"I was tryna kill his ass," Andee replied in a too-emphatic voice, wobbling a bit while scooping the gun up once more. "Fuck that shit is loud..." He rubbed at an ear with one wing while waving the pistol around. "You really gotta teach me how to shoot!"

"Yeah, 's what I said," Samael chuckled as he peered down at the unconscious hoopster.

"What?!" Andee yelled.

"Shit, hon, gimme that piece 'fore you go deaf!" Samael called out while flailing toward their opponent. "Then see if this fucker got some keys on 'im!"

Andee looked reluctantly at the handgun, then grumbled his acceptance while passing the weapon between the bars. "He better hope he does or I'mma make you use his other arm as a crowbar. Make a reverse-Nelson outta this fucker..."

Andee searched his jacket pockets while Samael ejected the clip to check the remaining bullets. Only a few, but more than none. "Who do ya think's breakin' in?" he inquired before they both looked toward the door again at another series of incoherent shouts and gunfire. "Lawd, it sounds hot out there..."

"Good, let the fuckers kill each other!" Andee exclaimed as he dug into an inner pocket. "Probably Baskins, or maybe one'a Sov's rivals, tryna get themselves to the main course and skippin' out on the bill!"

A smile quirked across Samael's features as he pieced together what Andee meant. "You really think we's worth that much? We ain't exactly gettin' details of Miss Sov's every plan or nothin'..."

Andee cackled in victory as he produced a keyring, proceeding to try each one against the cell's padlock as he rambled away. "Fuck yeah we are! Just 'cuz we ain't at the center table don't mean we ain't important to that bitch! Not to mention you's a preemo rebel, ya delusional dumbass, maybe they's thinkin' of usin' you to sweeten up the House, like the fuckin' big-booty cherry pie you are!"

Samael beamed while dancing impatiently from paw to paw. "Aw hell, don't ferget what a snack you are, too, sugar-flaps...ain't no one cuttin' deals as deep as you these days!"

Andee glanced up at him as a key finally slid into the lock. The bat smirked and twisted his wrist to open the cell before hopping back and pointing a finger at the redneck. "Ya damn right. We's a real nice buffet to the right people..." He snorted and stamped a foot, though a tiny smile still greeted Samael slipping out of the cell. "Now get ready to fuckin' bust ass before those right people find us and put us right back where we fuckin started!"

"Let's get the fuck outta here," Samael concurred, ensuring the pistol had a round chambered as Andee snagged Wallace's stun-rod and followed his partner toward what he hoped was an exit.

Unfortunately for them, every other door out of the holding room had been barricaded or secured even beyond the opening force of Samael's thick shoulder. They'd been forced to reluctantly make their way into the main hallway where the sounds of confused fighting became more apparent.

"Did you see where the skinny guy went?!"

"No...fuck! Stay here in case the little fucker comes back, I'm gonna go help Tim!"

Andee grabbed Samael's tail, urging a surprised little hop from the chupa. "Let's go get 'im, Sammy! I think the front door was that way!"

Samael nodded and reached back to herd his partner with an arm. "Stay behind me, hon, we don't need you catchin' no strays--hey!" He winced as Andee scrambled up over his back and took a resolute spot on his shoulders instead. "Andee!"

"Fuck you, I gotta better view up here!" Andee growled as he brandished the stun-rod, activating it with a shower of blue sparks that made his jagged grin that much sharper. "Move it, fatass!"

Any concern for Andee's safety was overtaken by the enthusiasm over the bat wanting to participate at all. Samael gave his own twisted smile, leaning forward and breaking into a jaunt toward the source of the voice. "Hang on tight, then. We'll bust through anyone between here 'n that ol' pickup truck."

"Get us outta here in one piece and I'll bust somethin' else for ya, just the way ya like," Andee offered from above while leaning into the momentum.

Samael's smile morphed into a grin just as they turned the corner and nearly barreled into Glasses, who spun around and managed a gargled "Oh shit, they're free!" through stiff, swollen jaws a moment before Samael rammed against his torso. The hoopster tumbled backward and the truncheon he'd been attempting to lift skittered across the floor. Andee reacted swiftly, kicking off of Samael's shoulders to leap over his head so he could bring the electrified baton smashing ruthlessly down into the other chupa's chest.

"Fuck, the heretics are out!" called another voice from down the hall, and Samael looked over to see two more hoopsters raising their guns.

The rebel was faster, dropping to a kneel as the pair of wild shots zipped past meters above their target. He pulled the trigger rapidly to send four responses of his own, each round tearing into his opponents' legs and shoulders to knock them sprawling with matching cries of pain. "Heretics?!" he echoed with a huff. "Y'all cain't even find a different word than the House..." He glanced back to see Andee hopping off his own stunned target. "You good, sweetie?"

"Yeah, hope this asshole likes his ribs extra-crispy!" Andee cackled, kicking the immobilized chupa and then bounding past Samael. "Let's go, shortstack!"

Samael chortled and joined Andee in jogging around the two groaning hoopsters, tossing down a friendly smile as they passed. "Pressure on them wounds, fellas! Thanks fer the hospitality!"

They rounded another corner side-by-side and were met with a wide-eyed hoopster clutching a rifle. Samael brought his pistol up and launched his last two rounds, one grazing past the guy's torso as the other punched into his shoulder and forced him to spin away from their end of the hall. The handgun clicked empty but before Samael could contemplate a follow-up, the hoopster cried out in defiance of the wound and gave into his adrenaline as he twisted back toward the duo to open fire.

"Aw fuck!" Andee yelped, diving for the adjacent corner of the intersection while Samael flung himself onto his back, then rolled to tuck himself defensively behind a display case. A burst of automatic fire peppered his features with splinters and he winced away as Andee poked his head out and yelled over the barrage of bullets: "Over here, fuckstick!!"

The hail of bullets carved through the flooring toward Andee's hiding spot and provided Samael a few precious seconds to breathe. The bat's head ducked safely back around the corner and the two stared at each other before Samael shouted: "Stay put 'til you hear the--"

KLIK!

Samael whipped his head around and stole a glance around his cover to confirm the chupa had actually depleted his magazine. He heard the telltale sound of an empty clip hitting the floor and followed the call of his instinct, heaving himself back to his paws and throwing himself into a breakneck race toward the hoopster. A flash of movement drew his attention to the left in time to see Andee bursting from safety as well, wings outstretched to propel him into an aerial charge.

But Samael's instinct hadn't considered the possibility of a well-trained enemy, and he cursed when he looked ahead to see they were rushing a guy who had already reloaded and was halfway through chambering the first round. Samael snarled and poured every bit of his strength into his sprint, hoping the sight of two rampaging targets would be enough to throw off the gunman's aim.

The barrel swung toward him first -- fuck, he wasn't close enough! Samael's muscles clenched in preparation an instant before a thundering crash made him twitch and stumble over himself.

A section of the wall exploded outward as a different hoopster burst through in a shower of plaster and fractured wood, an impromptu battering ram for the streak of tan that shouldered his limp body into the hallway. The rifle-wielding chupa gawked and maneuvered the gun toward the new threat, but the living freight train was unstoppable as it tackled him into the opposite wall with an audible crunch of bone and a less-audible whimper of pain.

Samael grinned brightly with realization as their savior snagged the rifle and flashed a winning smile paired with gleaming emerald eyes. "Sup, dudes?!?"

"York!" Samael exclaimed, leaping forward to exchange an abbreviated secret handshake with his best friend. "The hell you doin' here?! How'd you find us??"

"Oh, you're gonna love this," York gushed, only to be cut off by the sound of shouting from another room. "But let's find Wash and get outta here first!"

"Fuckin' great, the werebitch and the squirrelbitch is here!" Andee complained as he waved the stun-rod threateningly in York's direction. "We were doin' just fuckin' fine on our own, ya big stupid pup!"

"Oh, I could tell!" York replied with a wink. "You're welcome for the lack of new bullet holes, Andee!"

Andee scowled and attempted to spring forward to jab the electrified weapon into York's thigh, but Samael caught the back of his poncho first. "Save it fer the rest'a these culpists!" Samael chided playfully.

"It's cultists, ya stupid redneck...ay, that reminds me!" They ran forward together while Andee continued to yap at a bemused York. "You suck at teachin' Sammy anythin' useful! This dumbass didn't even know what a cult was!"

Samael coughed lamely, even if York's kind smile in his direction softened the embarrassment. "Aww, give him a break, Andee -- we're still working through 'centerfolds' and 'celebrities'...'cultists' are just around the corner!"

"Literally!" Samael cried out as three more chupas rushed into the hallway. Only one had a firearm, but York unloaded a clean burst into his legs to send him to the floor in a cacophony of curses. Samael flung his empty handgun at one of the remaining two, smacking him in the face and slowing his reckless charge.

York slid smoothly past him and twisted his rifle around to butt the hoopster firmly between the eyes, knocking him into a gurgling heap. They both turned to help Andee...who apparently needed no assistance, cutting a clumsy but effective arc through the air to avoid the swing of a baton. His talons clutched his own stun-rod, which he directed around to jam into his attacker's neck. The hoopster squealed and gave a wild spasm before dropping to his knees, and then falling forward with a jagged groan when Andee administered a second jolt into the base of his skull.

An impressed whistle slid from York's maw and he looked down at Samael with a half-grin. "Remind me again not to piss off your little cone."

"Keep tryna tell ya...feisty!" Samael sang back, smiling when the bat grumbled but flit down to his shoulders once again.

"Next one's goin' up ya ass if you two fuckers don't get us outta this shit-hole!"

Samael shared a wink with York, who thumbed toward the hole in the wall he'd just made. "I was looking for you guys on that side, Wash should be somewhere that-a-way," he explained while pointing in the opposing direction. "Guess we were both wrong!"

"Fuck, good thing we busted ourselves out, we woulda been shot dead by the time you merc-motherfuckers found us!" Andee exclaimed from atop his galloping steed. "Elite special forces, my ass!"

York chuckled. "Gee, I can taste the gratitude from here. Maybe I should just give Andee the big gun, let him lead the way?" He lifted the rifle playfully, only to flinch as Andee eagerly grabbed for it. "Holy shit, I was just kidding!" he hollered, pulling it back out of the bat's reach.

"I'll do it!" Andee threatened with a flourish of the stun-rod. "I already shot one'a these fuckers today, I got that shit down pat!"

"Only thing down pat was Andee's butt on the ground," Samael remarked, laughing and ducking his head to avoid the swipe of his partner's wing. "Li'l cone gonna need a couple sessions at the range, I think...but he might jus' be a natural," Samael added with a wink up to Andee that the bat reluctantly replied to with a smirk.

"Speaking of these guys...who are they?" York inquired.

They'd rounded another corner and were now in the grand hall that Samael recognized from their initial tour. That meant the exit was close. He grunted and swiped one of the statuettes on display as they passed, tossing it once to test its heft. "Mah cousin hooked us up with 'em fer a deal...s'posed to be a hoop, but guess they're also..." He trailed off while glancing up at Andee sheepishly.

Andee grumbled, but avoided any further mockery. "They's a fuckin' cult. Worship the Predecessors, think some ancient assholes are gonna bust down the gates of the Citadel and kick Omega's ass for us all...these motherfuckers are crazier than you rebel fucks..."

"That's an impressive amount of crazy," York replied cheekily before a small pack of hoopsters spilled into the end of the foyer. He shouldered the rifle and nudged Samael with his hip. "I got the left, Li'l Pup."

Samael nodded and shifted his weight in the other direction. "I'm on the riiii-yiiii-oooh-shit!" he sputtered as a door flung open right in front of him and Andee.

Andee reared back with a curse, his wings spreading wide in surprise as a club-wielding hoopster flinched in response, giving Samael the perfect opportunity to smash the statuette into his stunned features. It shattered against bone that fared only slightly better, blood running from his jaws as he swayed and then slumped into Samael. "Shit, sweetie, yer handy in a tussle!" Samael remarked, earning a string of indecent words from the bat.

The group of enemies further down twisted around at the commotion and opened fire without hesitation, leaving Samael and Andee to yelp as one and shove the unconscious hoopster away so they could duck behind the open door. A salvo of bullets pounded into the wood and rattled Samael's arms, but thankfully refused to punch through.

Across from them, York got off a few controlled bursts before he too was forced to slide for cover behind another marble display case. Countless angry rounds screamed past their respective hiding places as he and Samael traded a look. "What'd you do to piss these guys off?!" York yelled across the hall.

"Hey, yer the one they was hollerin' about when we was breakin' out!" Samael shouted back playfully.

"Who doesn't holler whenever the York walks into a place, though?" York teased before wincing away from a spray of marble that coated his shoulder. "This place is like a damn museum...ooh!! Sammy, I gotta take you to a museum sometime!"

"Would you dumbass pups fuckin' focus!?!" Andee squawked. "How the fuck we gonna handle this??"

Samael peeked around the door, but quickly returned his head to safety when a few shots grazed past. "Uhh...I could try'n duck into this here room, get behind 'em --"

York grunted and checked his rifle before glaring around his own cover. "Only got a couple rounds left for a distraction. But let's do it!"

"Where's the other one?!" one of the hoopsters demanded in a strained voice over the gunfire. "I only see the big one and the heretics!"

"I dunno, he disappeared after taking out Thomas and Niles, maybe he -- what the fuck??!"

Samael poked his head around once more to see a streak of dark grey emerge from inside the ceiling, firing twice while midair to drop half of the attacking force. Wash landed in a nimble crouch and flicked his other hand out, burying a knife in the chest of a third enemy before twisting to the side to avoid the shocked trigger pull of the final hoopster. Wash's pistol shifted in a flash and blasted two rounds into the guy's legs, leaving him to collapse backward amid an agonized moan.

"Yer so fuckin' cool, pine cone!" Samael cheered, earning a smack from Andee but a whoop of concurrence from York.

"My little buddy's the best!" York cried out happily, emerging from cover with a fist pump. "Perfect timing as always, Wash!"

"We need to leave now, the rest of these guys are almost here," Wash snarled as he waved what Samael presumed was a purloined radio. He launched a blistering glare at Andee and Samael. "And you two! Nelson owes us big time, it's not our goddamn job to bail you assholes out of every job you fuck up...especially one that's not even Movement business!"

"Shit, hon, lemme sit with you on the way home, I'll pay ya back twice 'fore we even get to Episemon!" Samael trilled.

Wash made a horrible face while Andee groaned and zapped his rump with the electric baton, making him leap forward with a giggling yelp. "Just...shut up and follow me," Wash muttered, even as he took a moment to eye York and share a tiny nod.

They shoved through the front doors as a tight group, though it was Andee who reacted first to the shotgun that swung toward Wash. "Ay, watch out, ya fuckin' squirrel!" Samael winced at the blur of movement as Andee's wing whisked past his head to fling the electric baton at the hoopster's face.

They ducked as one when the blast of buckshot whizzed off target and over their heads. Wash moved like quicksilver, undaunted by the near-attempt on his life, and proceeded to disarm the stunned hoopster amid a flurry of lightning-fast strikes. York stepped in like they were dance partners, slinging a punch that probably loosened half the poor guy's teeth while Wash rapidly unloaded the shotgun with a moody frown, then tossed it into the nearby shrubs. He grunted what might have been an appreciative remark toward Andee before jerking his head toward the vehicles and motioning to York.

"Ya welcome, pine cone!" Andee blurted as the two darted off, reaching down to slap at Samael's chest. "Can you believe the nerve of them bastards?!?"

Samael smiled to himself and jogged after the ex-Freelancers. Yeah, that poker night was just the beginning for the four friends, he was sure of it now.

Neither Andee nor Samael were surprised that the rockets had been removed from the pickup truck, though it didn't stop Andee's uproarious chagrin that spilled over Samael firing up the engine and speeding after Wash and York's jeep. They raced along together for nearly half an hour before pulling into a deserted relief station somewhere in the middle of the highlands. York and Samael had successfully pleaded in harmonizing whines to their respective partners to be allowed a brief conversation while they checked over their respective vehicles to ensure they were in shape for the separate journeys ahead, and they were making the most of it.

"Aw, Wash -- y'all should drive with us back to Sidewinder!" Samael offered with a bright smile, using one arm to fend off Andee's indignant elbow. "You c'n stash the jeep with us, 'n hitch a boat ride with me again!" He waggled his eyebrows as York cooed excitedly. "I know how much y'all enjoy the warm 'n welcoming waters of the Jenay..."

"Christ, don't start," Wash replied through grit teeth before placing a sulky hand on the hood of their jeep. "We need this back at L-Base. I should make you two assholes find your own ride back, so we can take the truck with us, too..."

York's head shot up from where he'd been peering at the tires on the truck. "Oooh oh oh, that reminds me!" He exclaimed while bouncing from paw to paw. "Samael, that was how we found you!"

Samael cocked his head curiously even as his tail swayed with his friend's exuberance. "Huh? The ruffy-truck?!?"

"Yeah, yeah!" York whooped as he threw an arm around Wash a moment before his friend could slip away in disgust. "Angel caught wind of the chatter offering a reward for you two, she got a hold of our guys, they called us and Wash led us right to our post-super-best-friend-handjob-mobile! I told you all those sexy, sexy gay times would help you out!"

Andee groaned almost in time with Wash, and the two glared daggers at one another. "It had nothing to do with that," Wash snapped before he sighed and rubbed slowly at the bridge of his muzzle. "Nelson isn't the only one who puts trackers in the vehicles. Otherwise dumbasses like you and York would lose them constantly..."

"He still hasn't told me where he puts his!" York pouted, even as he grinned brightly a moment later and thrust a happy finger into the air. "But now I know to start lookin' for them!"

"Fucking hell, can we go now?" Wash asked flatly. "Vehicles are in shape. No one needs medical attention. And we need to get back."

"I dunno, I'm feelin' kinda stiff," Samael complained around a cheeky grin while stretching his arms upward. "Might need five minutes with yer big pup out back 'fore we get go-oww!"

Andee's wing bashing into his spine cut him off with a wincing giggle while York covered his muzzle and tittered away across from them. "We're outta here, Sammy. See ya hopefully way, way, way later, ya fuckin' pricks!" Andee spouted while shoving his partner toward the cab of the truck.

"You're welcome, assholes," Wash replied in a blithe imitation of Andee before continuing to grumble as he squirmed out from under York's arm to stalk around to the passenger side of their jeep. "Hope Nelson kicks both of you off the cliffs when you get back..."

Despite the raw twinge of fear down Samael's spine, he traded a dauntless smile with York and they fired a pair of finger-guns at each other, then climbed into their vehicles. Samael was faster on the throttle, tearing out of the overgrown parking area in front of the other two as he and York waved to each other one last time. He whipped the pickup in a cheery arc to place them on the rough road once more, earning an indignant yowl from Andee. Samael chuckled his apology while aligning himself with Sirca's outline on the horizon. nosing the truck to the south so they could make their way back to the frozen slopes of Sidewinder.

"Great work back there, hon!" he declared, hoping to stave off any additional angry sentiments about how his stupidity had been mostly to blame for the near-day-long predicament they'd gotten themselves into. "You kicked some real fine ass! And don't think I missed out on how you saved li'l ol' Miz Wash, too!"

"I wasn't tryna save that stupid scrawny bitch!" Andee protested while he fastidiously searched the glove box, likely to see if his gear was still there. "His dumb head was in the fuckin' way of me fuckin' up that last guy's pretty face!" He seemed relieved as a stick of dynamite materialized between his fingers, and he used it as a prop to jab at Samael for emphasis. "And you better believe I fuckin' kicked ass! How many times I gotta tell all you deaf mud-stompers that I can take care of my own damn self?!?"

"I dunno, I ain't never sure if I should expect you to stick around fer a fight after all you say 'bout not gettin' yerself caught up in that kinda shit," Samael replied, wincing a bit at what might have been too much honesty, even as he carefully tacked on: "But you keep doin' it, and...I'm real glad you do, is all."

Andee glowered across the cab while continuing to empty the glove compartment, but he eventually wrinkled his muzzle and pulled out a folding knife that he flicked open and waved around briefly. "Told you I ain't no bitch. I meant what I said 'bout not riskin' my neck for you bastards, but if I'm stuck in the shit with you, I ain't gonna just sit around and wait to fuckin' die." He narrowed his eyes and pointed the gleaming blade toward Samael. "But. That don't mean I'm gonna go outta my way, either. Don't depend on me to come pull ya ass outta the cauldron." He shook his head a few times. "All you chupas is the same. Buncha blind, deaf, dumb fuckers..."

Samael smiled a bit, mindless of the icy vitriol in favor of his unquenchable fire. "Aww, not all of us. You said I was an honorary bat, that's gotta count fer summin', right?"

"Fuck no!" Andee retorted as he tucked the blade under his poncho. "Ya just as bad as the rest'a them with the shit you pulled! You's the reason we got into this whole mess..." He scowled and Samael rubbed the back of his neck. He was positive Andee's words were simply charged with frustration. "You and that fuckin' cuzzin' of yours!"

...And to be fair, he had tried to warn Andee about Kokobiel.

"Speakin' of kickin' ass," Andee continued to rave, slamming the glove box shut. "I'mma find his and boot it all the way across the fuckin' drink to Honkal!" Andee gnashed his teeth and then folded his arms while sinking into the seat. "Piece'a shit snow-head, couldn't put together a good job even if it was his own dick in his own hand..."

Samael took his eyes off the drive long enough to study his companion's rumpled expression. Their time together had given him the opportunity to peek inside Andee's padlocked tome more than once...and no amount of illiteracy would ever stop Samael from understanding the verses scrawled across his partner's soul. Andee was reluctant to share such an intimate relationship, loath to even utter the dreaded words that Samael burbled forth like a cheerful fountain of confident emotions.

Samael believed in Andee's heart above all else, though. Following his spirit had done him well in his short life on this ring so far, and he wasn't about to find a new compass. Every moment they'd shared, every victory, every tumble, every bitter argument and blissful celebration, they weren't all coincidences. Maybe Andee really did undergo some sort of internal transformation in Womb's depths, maybe he really was trying to distance himself from the chupa he'd murmured so many dangerous devotions to.

But something in his partner still cried out, and Samael didn't know how to abandon a soul so tightly woven with his own. That same voice now whispered to the void through the wrinkled muzzle and furrowed brows and flattened ears. Samael didn't have to be scared -- as Andee himself had once chided him, there was a difference between fear and respect. Andee was no monster; even now, Samael could feel the venom draining from the bat's veins...and maybe it was because he could focus his rage on someone other than his dumb, inbred redneck.

It still meant Samael was his dumb, inbred redneck.

"Koko's always been a li'l bit of a troublemaker," Samael began, only for Andee to huff in protest and break out of his moue.

"Nah, nah, you's a troublemaker, way you bustin' outta ya fuckin' cozy caves, leavin' the pack to go out 'n try to save a ring that don't concern you!" The words didn't sting, however, instead as strangely comforting as the claw prodding insistently against his arm. "But you still get welcomed back with open arms, you still got a place there. That means they respect you, even if ya breakin' all the ancient pickup-truckin', family-fuckin', Sampi-redneck traditions!"

Samael smiled. "An' it ain't like I stopped drivin' no trucks."

"Or givin' your cousins no fucks," Andee added dryly before frowning and slapping at Samael's chest and nearly causing him to swerve into a desiccated tree. "But that goddamn Koko-bitch ain't like you, he couldn't even be fucked to swing by while you was visiting! Nah, I'll own this fuck-up, I wanted to trust him 'cause it sounded like he had a decent fuckin' head for good business." Andee grumbled and fidgeted with the hem of his poncho, appearing to wrestle with his own words. "I ain't above admitting I misread that skinny fuck. Shoulda listened to you, Fiffy. That fucker don't know a damn thing about real loyalty..."

Samael never liked to talk shit about his own family -- even the wayward ones. But Andee's admission had him brimming with hope once more. "Ol' Koko, he's...yeah, a'right, he ain't looked upon too good, even compared to us other roamers," Samael acquiesced. "It were a good deal, though, even if we didn't know we was meetin' some real crazy folks. I fucked up, too."

Andee sucked on his teeth. Samael steeled his heart.

But the bat eventually reached over and bumped his knuckles against the chupa's bicep. "Yeah, a'right. We both caught a case of the dumbassery on this one, puppy."

Samael's whole body settled as he glanced over to see a relaxed smile drifting onto his partner's features, and his soul took its first cautious breath since they'd been locked in that cage. Samael smiled back and let himself sink into the uncomfortable bench seat. "You ain't called me that since mah first few days in Xulod..."

Andee snorted and tipped his head to glance up at him. "The fuck you on about, eh? I call you that all the time! 'Cause that's what ya are, you're my stupid, sexy pup, whether I like it or not."

Samael chuckled as his fingers squeezed lightly into the wheel. "Yeah, but...not in common." His smile tilted toward sheepish for a few seconds. "Kinda like Fiffy more."

A second or two floated past before the bat gave a soft chortle of his own while propping his feet onto the dash. "God, you sentimental faggot. Knew I'd be askin' for trouble teachin' you bat-speak." He quirked a bemused smile. "Ya still sound like a smooth-brain when ya speak it...but. Ya do speak it." He sighed loudly but the edges of his muzzle kept their upward turn. "What I said earlier, 'bout. 'Bout bein' like all the others. Ya know I ain't meant it. I am mad at you, but. We're still in this for the long haul, eh? And I ain't gonna be the partner of no nasty, smelly, clueless-ass chupa."

Samael positively beamed and his tail jangled with his joy. "Ah'm still an honorary bat?!?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Andee grumbled, even as he smiled again and punched the chupa's arm. "You remember that membership's exclusive though, Fiffy. I can lock you outta my house, just as easy as I can get Lutane and his boys to lock you outta Xulod."

"Aw, you know how good I am at sneakin' into back doors, though," Samael teased with a playful elbow into Andee's retreating arm.

The bat scoffed and slapped his wing back against Samael's forearm. "Yeah right, like you know how to sneak that weird chupa dick into anything, whole neighborhood knows when you come knockin'."

"Maybe you should close yer windows then, quit givin' everyone a free show!"

"Nah, I'm good," Andee shot back coolly. "That shit's too hot to pass up -- think I'mma have Angel send out an all-call next time, even, then I can start chargin' admission proper-like!"

Samael laughed delightedly while gazing through the windshield toward the setting sun. "Aw man, praise the spirits fer Angel! We should give'r a call when we get to Sidewinder, thank her proper fer passin' on the chatter 'bout us gettin' locked up..."

"Feh, that bitch already takes too much credit for helpin' all you rebel fucks with your comms!" Andee groused as he kicked idly at the windshield. He rubbed at his chest with both hands and looked over at the chupa with what might have been a hint of longing regret.

Samael told himself it was, anyway.

"I ain't gonna stop at ya damn frozen ice-caves, either way. I been gone almost three days, I got shit that needs doin' back home."

Samael tasted disappointment, but it lingered only briefly as he ventured forth. "How 'bout I come with you 'n help out?"

Andee whipped his head around again to fix the chupa with a less readable expression, his eyes narrowed slightly. One of his ears flicked, however, giving Samael another modicum of hope. But the bat shook his head after a moment and waved a wing. "Nah, nah, that ain't happenin'. You gotta deal with ya bitchy-ass momma, you know she's gonna tear you three new fuckin' assholes and that'd be too many even if Mutt and Pan was comin' over."

Samael winced as he anticipated the onslaught of fiery, four-wheeled wrath. Nelson was a force to be reckoned with even on a good day. But one of her most valuable field agents going on a non-approved job halfway across the ring in a Movement vehicle, then being captured, then being rescued by two of her least favorite ex-mercenaries from L-Base? That wasn't gonna make for a good day. He'd be lucky to even see the sun through the monstrous shadow she'd be casting over him once she inevitably found wherever he tried to hide after returning.

"I...I ain't scared'a Mama," he mumbled, his voice cracking only slightly to prove he was just lying a little. He took a deep breath and then pushed aside not only her terrifying presence, but the bond he'd formed, the loyalty he'd sworn. Something even more powerful thrummed through his veins now, something that made the memories of blood-splattered snow waver. "I'll. I'll come with you, hon. Jus' like we said before, it's you 'n me. You 'n me, forever. I don't gotta go back."

And oh how his heart stuttered to a halt at the sight of Andee staring at him, realization overtaking disbelief across his sharp features. The seconds ticked past even after Samael put his attention back to the red earth rushing past beneath their tires. And then, finally, Andee set his jaws and joined his companion in gazing at the distant horizon.

"No. No, you ain't comin' with me, and you ain't quittin' the resistance. You're useless to me if ya ain't with the Movement."

Samael flinched and choked on his soul as it attempted to flee. His tail curled tightly around his thigh as he hunched over the wheel and fought desperately against a whimper. He knew he couldn't break down, though, it would only make Andee more frustrated and the last thing he wanted to do was incur another --

He froze as claws clamped tenderly around his wrist, daring to bring his eyes quickly to Andee. The bat met his gaze momentarily and Samael saw genuine guilt. "I'm sorry, Samael," he muttered before squeezing his thumb and finger tighter into the chupa. "That ain't true, and it's fucked that I even said it." He shifted his weight but kept his grip on his partner. "But you still ain't comin' with me." His claw traced gently over the symbol burned into Samael's wrist and their eyes locked briefly again. "This is where you belong...fuck it, where we belong," he declared before exhaling loudly again. "We'll keep figurin' it out, Fiffy, but neither one of us is gonna be happy if we ain't both practicin' our fuck-you-fu on Omega and all the bullshit the House is doin'."

Samael smiled, and there were no tears to blink away this time. His faith in his partner was steadfast. "Yeah...yeah, yer right, Andee," he replied, reaching over with his other hand to rest atop the bat's. The ache of longing was nearly welcome, simply another reminder that they still had plenty of battles to face before they'd get that glorious future together. He'd need to help Sirca find her freedom before they could have theirs...and just cherish every moment with Andee along the way. "I'll take on Mama by myself this time...but you promise me you'll be there the day we take on Omega." He winked as their fingers brushed apart. "I ain't dyin' for this ring all by my lonesome."

Andee snorted but offered a smirk while twisting in the seat to half-rest against the chupa with his talons still propped onto the dash. "Fair's fair, asshole -- but yeah. I." Samael glanced down but Andee's hesitation seemed short-lived. "I promise. Live or die, we do it together."

.