No reactions, the absolute surety of such an answer ending the fates of them all.

Madeline immediately raises her hands defensively, a single line ruining the entire conversation. “I’m out… you got me with that.”

“Specify.” Samuel requests of the Being coldly.

“I don’t know the extent of the decay upon systems maintaining this world. The state of such systems could complicate the maintenance and future actions taken to sustain operations.”

Even such a statement overwhelms the base of knowledge of the Five, each one remaining quiet. The most fundamental, basic truth: the very nature of their world long forgotten from their ancestral memory. Now found only in the obfuscated words of superstitious scripture and folk tales, partially confirmed by the scrounged scraps of scientific development easily dismissed by the pressing matters of food, water, and death by gunfire.

Judge Murphy asks the question, directed in a methodology. No omissions, no lies: a binary answer required. “All you require is our escort, and our weapons?”

The Being doesn’t nod, only speaking the words as it aimlessly gazes into the far distance. “Yes.”

The mind of combat continues the logical chain, an insight into a tactical projection made under the assumption of acceptance. “If they’ve activated the leylines, then they’ll be guarding the location. Where’s our point of entry?”

An obvious answer still iterated, a plan simply spoken of in general, nonspecific terms for later analysis. “There are many points of entry into the primary manufacturing facility.”

So many unknown variables, the risks obscene against a promise barely established by the childlike form. Yet human instincts are pulled towards it; something crawling into the very subconsciousness. A trust only found through bonds forged by the nature of humankind, links between mortals and characters of great, powerful souls above.

They all consider the implications, their lives in the palm of the very earth beneath their feet.

Madeline McCormik makes her play, a hand slamming itself upon the table as she stands. “Maybe we’ll sleep on it? Kinda had a long day, I personally only like one shootout every week, not two in one.”

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“You’re not leaving.” Judge Murphy coldly orders.

“Yeah you don’t wanna lose me after like three years right? Gods damn you’re persistent.”

Samuel and Samantha both continue at the same time, a coincidence only adding to the immensity of their statement. “No individual among us is leaving this location.”

A standoff reborn, each member of the Five taking a moment to glance among each other.

Alto Carrin offers the solution, a quiet voice almost drowned out from the city seeping through concrete walls. “There’s rooms we can rent here. We should all share one, just to keep an eye on one another if that works.”

Madeline almost laughs to herself as she gives the rundown. “Old grandpa’s gonna get murdered by the twins while he sleeps, Alto’s gonna wake up and shoot the girl mid-way…”

“My name is Samantha.” The girl informs with barely maintained hatred. “My brother is Samuel.”

She makes the correction, continuing her rant. “... shoot Samantha and Samuel’s gonna kill him and I’m gonna get caught in the crossfire. Sounds great!”

Alto sighs. “It’s the only solution. We don’t trust each other for now.”

The woman leans back, hands already reaching into pockets. The jingle of assorted rounds muffled by both cloth and folded, laminated paper bills. Two different currencies for a life underneath the seven bars of the federation and the five gods of the sky. “Don’t suppose any of you are volunteering to chip in?”

Alto Carrin begins to reach into his pocket as Samuel’s face moves towards his sister’s, the Judge following suit from within a tactical pouch at his waist. Madeline interrupts them with a chuckle, several folded bills removed and counted by rough hands. Two out of six held, two dollars of Federally issued currency enough for this transaction. “I was kidding. Unless the savior of all humankind would like to pay for our room and board?”

He remains still at the directed statement, only turning to her once the answer is forged and approved. “I don’t have any relevant currency available.”

“Alright then.” Madeline tosses the roll of two dollars to the man next to her, the Gunslinger masterfully catching the sheets of lamented paper with an insane reaction time. “Go pay for us Vigil.”

A bartender returning to her station as the young man approaches, the middle aged woman unkempt with wild gray hair and dirty clothing. Alto speaks to her, voice quiet and beneath a small smile. “Can we have a room for tonight?”

Rough voice from ages of abuse, she croaks out the follow up as she grabs the two bills. “One room? Gonna be crowded.”

“It’ll be fine.” He assures.

No change given in return, only one key marked with the number 3.

“In the back. Have a good night… cheapskate.”