Page 112 of The Gathering
Nitro rattled off a dozen different genres of life-divorcing explosives.
“When it comes to this,” Bishop said, “the more the merrier, I say.”
“You got it.”
“Bullets?” Bishop asked.
“Hell, we can carry enough lead persuasion to hold a strategic conversation for a couple hours.”
“If Bishop loans us his architectural bio-weapons, we can customize a large-scale heart-stopper,” Fetch added to the pile with his perfect grin.
Bishop passed his gaze over his men, considering all usable assets.
“I want each of you to bring a team and the best of whatever the hell you’ve got. We don’t know what this army of meat-machines will be packing.
“It don’t matter what they’re made of,” Bacon said, eager. “Me and my butchers’ll debone, skin, and fillet-fooshay. Operation chop-chop-chop, oui?”
His excitement hit the room’s funny bone. “You can bake some of them biscuit grenades,” Hurricane said, making Bishop chuckle at those fond memories.
“God, please refrain,” Patches said. “I don’t have time to re-learn the entire fucking digestive system.”
The room erupted.
“I actually appreciate those biscuits,” Lesion said. “They spawned some of my best bowel remedies.”
“Hell, I used them for blade sharpening,” Shank tossed in.
Bacon nodded, calling all the laughing accolades to himself with hand waves.
“I used them to hold my crawfish traps down,” Hurricane said. “Worked better than stones,” he squealed.
“Target practice,” Bullets confessed with a raise of his hand.
They were in fucking stitches now.
“I hid ‘em,” Spook barely managed.
“We burned ‘em in the forge,” Bishop said between wheezing. “Best fucking fires ever.”
“I painted ‘em,” Traps peeped between howls. “They still line my garden bed.”
Seer doubled them over with, “I ate ‘em.”
A full minute later Sinrik reminded them about the refugee crisis.
“Chief Consequences is right,” 8-Bit said catching his breath. “Give him a biscuit.”
They lost it again.
“The fuck is wrong with all of you?” Sinrik marveled. “I ended the world because it needed ending.”
They were back to falling all over.
“I think it’s their version of therapeutic relief,” Fathom said fondly.
“From laughing to crying,” Fetch agreed.
“Fucking to fighting,” Fin said, echoing their newest prized philosophy.
