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Episode Three: The Old Guard Returns

Augustine softly cries as she sits on her bed. Locked inside of her room with a freshly installed bar on the door, a guard sits in a chair in the hall. Marcus isn't taking any chances, having removed anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, as well as all writing implements. The transition of power was surprisingly smooth; the few families of Coalton, while protected by her, were all terrified of April and hoping for a change when Marcus returned without her. Augustine walks toward her window, peering outside as several of the townsfolk drink homemade alcohol and seem to celebrate her mother's death.

Though she wasn't very close to her mother, who was always somewhat aloof, the girl can't help but cry at the prospect of being alone. April certainly wasn't the nicest mother; she may have been a monster, but she protected and provided for her. Will Augustine now be forced to fend for herself? That's assuming she can stay alive long enough. The screams of a young woman draw her attention. Peering outside and into the courtyard below, one drunken guard forces himself onto a black furred bunny Voeldahn girl, hiking up her skirt and tearing at her panties. The man's fleshy, rat-like tail swishes and his friends chuckle as the guard shoves his pants down to his ankles.

He pins her to the ground, forcing himself inside of the bunny girl's loins as she pleads for him to stop. She's clearly not interested in having sex with him, but he doesn't care. A man approaches, angrily trying to rip the guard from his victim. Also rabbit-like and with black fur, he's swiftly beaten to the ground by the others.

“Stop! She's only fifteen! Leave her alone!" The man pleads.

“Shut up!" One guard growls, holding him down.

“That's old enough!" Another guard cackles, kicking him in the ribs.

The other townsfolk quickly flee to their homes, avoiding the sight as the young teen is raped on the courtyard lawn, her brother beaten for the crime of trying to defend her. Augustine covers her ears to avoid hearing their screams. April may have been cold and sadistic, but she never preyed on her own people like that; the guards never would've done this is she were here.

“Please, mom... Please don't be dead." Augustine cries.

Slipping through the fence, April creeps closer toward the courtyard, hearing quite a ruckus. With her back against the wall of a house, she inches closer to the edge of the wall and glances around the corner. Her eyes grow wide with horror and rage as she sees the back of one of her formerly loyal guards. On his hands and knees, he rapes a girl, her pawlike feet bobbing in the air as he uses her. Only feet away and being forced to watch by the sadistic men, April recognizes a black furred rabbit boy, all of seventeen. Looking back at the black fur covered legs that sway up and down as the rat man thrusts himself into his victim, it's painfully obvious what's happening.

April's blood boils. She's suffered a similar fate, as have many females of this world. Rape is a special kind of evil, one that kills the spirit but leaves the body intact; it'd almost be better for the girl to be murdered afterward. Gritting her teeth and silently snarling, April moves to another building, taking a corner that mirrors the one she left. With the Kahr CT9 in her left hand, she takes aim, squeezing the trigger. It's as smooth as glass, with a perfect break; a superb firearm indeed. Bang. The nine-millimeter round rips into the man's spine, tearing its way through his flesh and bone and careening towards his skull.

“Agh!" He grunts.

Falling limp over the girl, the dainty thing pushes at his body as the other guards quickly bring up their firearms, looking for the hidden attacker. The poor girl scrambles away, removing his organ from her body and pushing his limp carcass off her before crawling away in fear. The rat man lay dead in the grass, his blank eyes staring into the sky as blood pools beneath his corpse. The girl scrambles to her feet, her skirt falling back down and covering her. Her brother lay motionless, beaten to a pulp in the brief but devastating assault.

“The fuck... Who did that?!"

“Oh shit, Steve... They killed Rob!"

“FUCK!" Steve growls.

Taking aim at Steve, who survived his first encounter with April, she squeezes the trigger. Bang. A round rips into his head as he stands still, his eyes scanning for the shooter. As before, April immediately ducks behind the corner. Rob, now alone, panics. He looks toward Steve's corpse, then the two houses. Putting two and two together, he takes aim and begins firing wildly. Windows shatter and wood splinters as her fires into the occupied homes. April squats down, guilt rising within her. Her people live in these homes. Are they being hit by the gunfire? Maybe she should've waited to act? What would Grey have done?

April's self-doubt is startling; she's never judged her own actions in such a manner before. Creeping away from the corner and keeping her head down, April looks around the opposite edge. The angle of the wall prevents her from seeing Rob. Keeping her back against the wall and the Kahr pistol before her, finger on the trigger, she inches her way toward him. She can hear footsteps as he approaches the houses.

“Think you fuckers can fight us?! Fuck you! You can't fight us! We're God here, you motherfuckers!" He screams.

He fumbles with a magazine; April can hear him struggling to reload his weapon. Dashing around the corner, Rob's eyes shoot open, staring in horror.

“YOU!"

Bang. April fires one round, which rips through his throat and severs his spine. He drops dead in a heap.

“Yeah..."

April grins, looking down at Rob's corpse. Approaching the body, she takes his unloaded AK pattern rifle and the spare magazine he struggled to load. Quickly searching his body, she takes another spare magazine. By now, a few doors open and citizens peek out, stunned to see April, their former leader, kneeling over the corpses of three dead guards. She pulls a Smith & Wesson 5904 pistol and some spare cartridges from Steve's body, and a Taurus 66 revolver from the rat man, whose name she'd forgotten. Coalton's townsfolk emerge, as the molested bunny girl returns to find her injured brother.

April's eyes shift to the girl, then to her skirt. A tiny trickle of blood runs from her groin and over the black fur of her leg. April regrets not arriving sooner, but jogging several miles was quite a chore and she had to slow down.

“I'm sorry..." April says to the girl.

The teenager looks stunned by the apology, never expecting it from someone like April.

“... April?" A random woman asks.

“We thought you were dead." A man remarks.

“Hardly... Who has my gun?" She turns to the couple.

“Marcus... He took it as a trophy. He's in the fort, with everyone else." The woman explains.

“Alright." April sighs, turning her head toward the hangar.

“It's good to see you alive. We didn't think they'd start treating us like this." The man remarks.

“Take this." April passes the man the rifle.

“Uh..."

“You're going to want to hold up in a house... And look after them." She continues.

April turns her sapphire eyes toward the teenage girl and her wounded brother, whom she kneels beside. She passes the pistols to other citizens, keeping the Kahr for herself, before dashing away from the scene. By now, she knows the fortress will be on lockdown. Everyone will know that she's coming, considering the time that she's wasted. She can only hope that Augustine's alright.

“Mom!" Augustine gasps as she peers out a window.

The bar is quickly pulled away, landing on the floor with a thump and startling the girl. She swirls around, facing the barrier as it's ripped open.

“Come here, you little bitch!" Marcus growls.

“Ahh!" Augustine yelps.

She dives out of the way, only to have one of her pigtails pulled hard by Marcus. He slips his arm around her, just beneath her developing bust. Lifting the slender child from the ground, he throws her over his shoulder and carries her out of the room.

“Let me go! Help!" She squeals.

“Shut up! I need some leverage!" Marcus growls.

Augustine's heart sinks when she discovers that the hallway is lined with rifle and pistol wielding men, all of whom are loyal to Marcus. Over a dozen of his soldiers appear ready for action.

“Alright boys! You know how it is! If that fucking bitch makes her way in here, light her up!" Marcus orders.

The men chuckle and cheer; they're dying for the chance to try and kill April. Carrying the girl into the next room, Marcus throws Augustine down onto a couch. He points a finger at her, a frightening glare in his eyes.

“Don't. Move." He slowly but sternly demands.

Ducking beneath a window and near the main hangar door, April is amazed that no one tried to take a shot at her with a rifle. Did they just not see her quickly enough, or are they holding off? She looks toward the hangar door, knowing that they're probably waiting to shoot her the second she looks through the opening. It's such an obvious trap that discounts it immediately, realizing the danger in such a move. She creeps away from the door, looking for any other way inside. Moving along the eastern wall, she approaches a low window that leads into a storage room.

In her dream, this was the room she peered into to see her as a teenager, forming her first gang. Perhaps this could be a safe way inside? She extends a hand, poking a claw at the underside of the window, which opens like a series of large flaps. It's a design common to the more antiquated buildings that survived The Ending. She gives the thin metal frame that surrounds the glass a little tug. To her amazement, the window isn't locked. Nearly getting ahead of herself, she pauses to think. April leans over, carefully peering inside. The room is empty. Lifting the window open with her claws, she is soon able to slide in her fingers.

Slowly opening the flaps, she rotates them from a vertical position and into a horizontal one. At barely one hundred and five pounds, April's sleek body is still as toned and gorgeous as it was when she was seventeen, some fifteen years ago. Squeezing in through the lowest opening, she slips in a leg, lying over the windowsill and slithering inside. Her breasts, a full C-cup, are modest at a glance, especially given her choice of wardrobe, however, in comparison to her frame, they're of considerable size. As she slides deeper inside, the windowsill rests against the underside of her bust.

Looking down, April silently chuckles as her boobs pop up in her top in a very appealing way, wedging her inside of the window. It takes her a minute to worm her way inside, using a hand to carefully push one breast through, then the other. Now inside of her old fort, she quickly closes the window, making as little noise as possible. No sooner than the window closes, she can hear footsteps.

“Come on, man! I want to get a shot off when she comes through that door!" A guard exclaims.

“Hold up. I need to do something real quick." Another says.

April looks around the room, desperate for a place to hide.

“You can jerk off later. This is important!"

“Calm down. I'm just going to see if there's more ammo in here."

“Well, hurry up, faggot." His friend teases him.

Opening the door and entering the room, the man slams it shut behind him.

“Asshole." He murmurs. “Okay! Ammo... Hm..."

He approaches a table, looking over a series of knives in varying stages of repair and sharpening. Spotting a large trunk, he approaches and kicks the side with a foot.

“Any ammo in there?" He asks the trunk.

Lifting the lid, he sees a bunch of old clothes and some worn belts and holsters; it's gear that April issues her low-level guards. Closing the lid, he turns his head. A metal cabinet, nearly six feet tall and with two double doors stares back at him. He grips the handles and pulls them open. An empty rifle rack greets him. The upper shelves, reserved for ammunition and spare magazines, are all barren.

“Fuck..." He grumbles.

Spinning around in the room, he approaches a bunk bed and peers under the lower level of the old mattress; it's used by her guards to nap between shifts. Nothing. Last, he checks a series of lockers. Opening the first locker, he sees little of value. Approaching the second locker, he grips the handle. It appears locked.

“Huh... That's odd."

He bangs on the second locker, yanking at the handle. It doesn't open.

“Fuck it."

Opening the third locker, he sees only some gun maintenance and repair tools.

“Hurry up in there, man! Damn!" His friend shouts.

“Alright, alright!"

Stepping back, he angrily slams the locker door. His rifle is nearly empty, and he has nothing to put in it if he runs dry; he only has a sidearm for backup Stepping back and turning around, he takes a few steps. Maybe there's something good in that second locker? He looks towards the knives on the table, wondering if he can pry it open.

“Hm... Let's see what secrets you're hi-"

His breath is frozen as he's temporarily paralyzed, stunned by the blade that's been shoved into one of his kidneys. April's hand covers his snout as she rips the knife from his back.

“Shh... It's almost over." She sweetly whispers.

Drawing from right to left, April slashes the man's throat, arterial spray jetting across the room and splattering the walls, as well as a portion of her face. Dropping him to the ground, his head rolls to one side. With what life he has left, he can see the second locker door. Now wide open, it reveals its secrets. April had removed the shelves, set them on the locker floor and stuffed herself inside; she was keeping the latch closed, probably with the blade of her knife, stolen from the table nearby.

“God damnit, man, what's taking you so long!"

Barging into the room, the other guard is startled by April, who places her hand over his mouth and stabs him in the abdomen, shoving the knife at an upward angle and directly into his heart. She stares into his eyes as he dies, his back against the opened door. Falling limp, she helps ease him to the ground as quietly as possible. Dragging him inside and placing him beside his friend, she returns to the door and gently closes it. She searches the bodies, finding a myriad of weapons and ammo.

Her first victim carries an FN FAL with one magazine, half loaded. A 9x19mm Parabellum Colt Commander with no extra ammo acts as his sidearm. His friend, with the ruptured heart, has a sawed off, 20-gauge Mossberg shotgun, and a pocket full of extra shells, but no other weapons. She slings the rifle, pockets the shells, and slips the pistol into the waistband of her pants, opposite Grey's Kahr. With shotgun in hand, she's about to leave the room when she stops.

“What am I doing? ... These things are loud!"

Returning to a locker, she collects some cotton balls. It's not much, but it's something. Opening the door, she hums Grey's little song, stuffing the cotton balls deep into her ears. Peeking out, she looks left, then right. Her pigtails sway with the motions of her head. Leaving the room, she walks through the hall and looks inside of her bedroom. Empty. Continuing, she enters the front area of the hangar, seeing several men looking at the main door as they duck behind crates. She grins as she looks over the group, counting eight heads. Her right-hand slips into her back pocket, collecting a few extra shells in preparation. She pinches them between her fingers.

“Man, she just needs to step in here and die... Where is that little skank anyway?"

BANG! The men jump, looking around as their ears ring. She never came through the door. What happened? Shashuck-BANG! The men turn, stunned to see April standing behind them and wielding a shotgun. Shashuck. An empty shell ejects as a new one is loaded. April fires from the hip and runs to her right as the men open fire. With two already dead and six to go, she pumps the slide.

“Kill that bitch!"

“Don't let her get away!"

“Oh fuck! She got Rick!"

“And I'll get the rest of you too!" April screams.

Leaning from behind a crate, a man with a revolver takes aim, but April's faster. BANG! Buckshot burrows into his chest from barely ten feet away. Gunfire erupts around her, forcing her to duck. April swiftly pumps the slide, inserting the extra rounds that she's pinched between her fingers, allowing her to still use the weapon as intended. She waits for a lull in the firing, before racing toward the main doors, moving counterclockwise around the edge of the room. Looking to her left as she darts between crates, she sees a man. BANG! The poorly aimed pellets rip into his leg.

“AHH-FUCK!"

“Oh shit! Johnny!"

Men race to help their fallen friend, giving her time to move around the crate. Seeing a man whose back faces her, she takes aim. Click. The round is a dud.

“Oh God!" He jumps.

Firing a round from his pistol as April pumps the slide, the bullet wizzes by her head, grazing her cheek. Falling back, she lands on her butt, points the shotgun in his general direction and fires. BANG! Shashuck. BANG! The man falls dead against a crate. Scrambling to her feet, gunfire chases her. It whizzes by, kicking up dust and concrete chips as she darts away. In a growing panic, she drops the shotgun, leaving it behind.

“Son of a bitch..." She grumbles

She pulls the rifle from her shoulder, bringing it to bear.

“You're not getting out of here alive, you little whore!"

“I was just thinking the same thing about all of you!" April laughs.

“When I'm done with you, I'm gonna break that little girl of yours!"

A switch flips within April. Her chest burns with rage. While remaining in the present, her mind briefly flashes back to her own abuse, and the many atrocities against females that she's seen, including the teenage bunny's rape. Her trigger finger itches.

“I'll plow her right into the ground!" The man laughs.

Racing out from behind her cover, April sidesteps, hopping slightly as she fires the rifle. Over and over, she pulls the trigger, the powerful .308 Winchester rounds ripping into two men who stand by the wounded Johnny. One is killed outright by two slugs to the chest, while the other is hit in the shoulder and leg, falling to the ground and crying out in pain. With the rifle empty, April drops the gun, drawing the Colt Commander. She flips off the safety, the hammer already cocked and ready to fire. Racing around the crates in a circle, she ends up where she started, following the circuit and returning to Johnny.

“Hey there!" She chirps, peeking out from behind a crate.

“On no..."

Bang. Shooting him in the head, she executes the wounded man. Looking over to the other man, who writhes in agony on the ground, she takes aim and fires. Bang. The bullet burrows through the top of his skull and deep into his brain, killing him instantly.

“Hm... I seem to be missing one! Where'd my other playmate run off too?!" April pouts, childishly stomping a boot-clad foot.

Stepping over Johnny's corpse, she looks toward the main hall. A man flees through the opened doors, running for his life.

“There you are!" April shouts.

Vaulting over a box on one hand, she races for the hall. Dashing through the doorway, she finds the man struggling to move the closed, sliding door that leads to the cells at the back of the fort. He pauses, slowly turning around and looking over his shoulder, only to see April standing at the other end of the hall.

“Hey! We're not done playing!" She giggles.

“Oh God!"

With a hard yank, he pulls the doors opened. Bang, bang, bang, bang. Several rounds strike his back as April fires at him, running down the hall as she does.

“Haha! Got you!" She laughs.

“Argh-shit..." He falls to the ground.

Struggling to turn over, the man rolls onto his side, only for April to plant her boot on a pectoral muscle, pushing hard as she forces him onto his back. He looks up at her as the woman grins sinisterly, her left hand holding the pistol.

“Fuck you... Crazy bitch..." He coughs.

Bang. Kneeling beside his body, she feels his pockets as blood pools around his head. Finding nothing of value, she rises to her feet and walks casually into the room where the cells are located. To her surprise, wallboards have been used to create simple rooms inside of the cell block.

“Well, someone's been busy." She remarks.

Walking through the room, two men lean out from behind a wall. They open fire, forcing April to run toward her left. She fires across her chest, a lucky shot striking one of the men in the forehead, while the others miss entirely. A round blasts through the wall she runs behind, grazing her right side and cutting her.

“Ahh! You little bastard!" She growls.

Pressing her hand against her wound and hiding behind a makeshift wall, she looks at the empty Colt Commander. Dropping the weapon to the ground, she takes Grey's Kahr CT9 from her waistband.

“You can't make it out of her, April. There's too many of us." Marcus' voice echoes through the cell block.

“Really? I hadn't noticed!" April boasts through clenched teeth.

“Give it up, while you still can."

“I didn't realize my crew was so weak! I thought you'd trained them better?! Look... I just want Augustine. Let her go and you can have this shithole!"

Augustine's ears prick, her eyes lighting up at her mother's words.

“Really?" Marcus raises a brow. “And how do I know you won't just kill me after I do?"

“... I promise."

“What?!" Marcus laughs. “Like that's going to convince me?!"

“... Yes?"

“Well, it doesn't... Sorry April, but you had your chance. Get fucked. I'll let Augustine go after you leave, and if you're lucky, you'll run across each other in the wilderness." He chuckles.

“Wrong answer..." April remarks in an eerie monotone.

Augustine sits on the couch of her room, once a cell to hold prisoners. Marcus stands near the door, holding April's stolen Micro-Uzi machine-pistol. Bang, bang, bang. Gunfire erupts throughout the cell block. A man screams, then another. Some fire several rounds at their assailant. A body falls with a thud, and then another. Marcus' fur mats from his nervous sweat, his hand trembling. Soon, the gunfire stops, and silence floods the cell block. He waits, his hand tremoring. Augustine watches him, looking at the man who would hold her prisoner. Her eyes turn towards the doorway, Marcus' shadow moving across the opening, formed from the light of a battery powered table lamp seated nearby.

Boots thud as April approaches. Marcus grips the pistol with both hands, aiming for the opened door. From where Augustine sits, she can see April's shadow. It slips away as she moves around the room. Marcus and Augustine listen, wondering what April's doing. She walks a crescent around the structure, then back toward the doorway, only to pause. Bang, bang! Two rounds rip through the wall, one of them striking Marcus in the throat. Dropping the gun, he clutches his neck as he falls to the ground. April walks casually toward the door, swiftly pointing the Kahr pistol at his head.

“How did... You know." He gurgles.

“Your shadow." She replies, pointing at the floor with her bloodied right hand. “You should've just let her go. You'd be alive right now..."

Bang. Augustine flinches as April executes Marcus in front of her.

“Hey, sweetheart." April says, approaching her daughter.

Slipping the Kahr CT9 into her waistband, she pulls the cotton balls from her ears with the claws of her left-hand fingers, her right hand pressing against the wound on her side.

“Was that all of them?"

“I-I... I think so."

“Fourteen? I counted fourteen."

“I guess." Augustine murmurs.

“You need to keep track of these things!" April sighs.

She squats down, picking up her Micro-Uzi and from the floor and the spare magazines that Marcus' had stolen from her.

“Come on. Let's go."

She motions with her head to her daughter, still seated on the couch. Augustine slides from the couch and approaches April, standing by her side and looking up to her with gratitude. Emerging from the room, they turn to see a man creeping toward the hallway. April and the canine Voeldahn notice each other at once and April swiftly takes aim.

“Woah! Easy..." The man says, holding up his hands, a pistol clutched firmly in one.

“Drop the gun and slide it over." April demands.

He swiftly complies. Augustine picks it up without even being asked.

“Now, get down onto your knees." April orders.

Again, he obeys.

“Bark like a dog!"

“Woof, woof!" The canine Voeldahn barks, like a household pet.

“Good boy!" April giggles. “Are you going to stay that way? You aren't going to be bad, are you?"

“No. Er... Woof."

“You can speak words now... If you promise to be good, I promise not to leave your corpse for the flies and the crows."

“Mom?" Augustine turns to her in shock.

The man blinks, his eyes wide, equally stunned by the offer.

“I don't make promises that I can't keep..." She adds.

“I promise; I'll be good."

“Good!" April lowers her weapon.

“Let's get the others. We need to tally our inventory."

With the unarmed guard walking before them, both he and Augustine marvel at that carnage. Somehow, April has managed to eliminate nearly everyone inside, while only sustaining minor injuries. Emerging from the hangar, the armed townsfolk appear ready to tear the guard limb from limb for how he and the others treated them in the short time that April was away. However, April is quick to stop them. She puts her people to work, collecting the weapons, ammo, tools, food, medicine and other important supplies, bringing them all outside. Arming her citizens, April puts together a modest convoy. Seeing what she's done to Marcus and his crew, they don't question her.

“Alright! So, Augustine and I are heading south!" April begins, speaking to the few families under her command. “Anyone who wants to join us is free to do so!"

“April?" A man raises a hand for permission.

“Yes?"

“Why would we leave Coalton?"

“Don't you know? Coalton's dead!" She replies.

The group look amongst each other and then back at April. Excluding the bullet holes and broken windows, the small town is entirely intact. What is she talking about? Humming Grey's tune, April approaches a wagon in the caravan, collecting two liquid filled bottles with rags stuffed into them, she uses an old but functioning lighter to ignite a wick.

“Gonna be a hard rain. You can hear it in the distance, it sounds so near. Gonna be a hard rain. Can't you hear it in the distance? It sounds so near." She sings softly to herself as she throws a Molotov cocktail at a house.

The townsfolk watch in shock as the fire spreads to the house beside it.

“People, when the rain comes, it's gonna wash us all away from here." She ignites and throws the other at firewood stored beside her hangar. “See? Coalton's dead... Anyone care to join me?"

“I-I will!" The solitary guard raises a hand.

“M-me too!" The molested bunny girl exclaims.

The others soon join them, and April finds herself looking over the townsfolk, once again firmly in command. To their shock, April is quite kind to the raped woman, even allocating part of a wagon for her beaten brother to lay in while they travel. She even waits for the only person with medical training to tend to the siblings first, before treating her wound. Riding in a cart, with the last guard on one end and Augustine in the middle, April looks toward the southern horizon. Her mind wanders, quickly returning to Grey and his companion. What're they up to right now?

“Knock, knock!" Grey kicks in a door. “Any little pigs in here?"

“What's wrong with you?" Monica raises a brow at Grey.

“What? ... You never read that story?"

“Let's just get this over with."

Entering the old cabin, found along a rarely used hiking trail that they'd taken as a shortcut, they search high and low for anything of value. The main room is filled with trash and debris, a layer of ancient dust covering every appliance. The small cabin has only two other doors, with a visible partition separating the rooms. Grey opens a door to what, from the size of the partition, could only be a bathroom or closet. Monica enters the larger of the two rooms, the dust covered windows barely illuminating the bedroom set and the empty mattress within.

“Oh! Hello there!" Grey greets someone.

“What? There's someone here?!" Monica gasps.

She races into his search area, her carbine rifle at the ready. Kneeling beside a bathtub, Grey looks over at her.

“Sort of." He replies.

Stepping closer and looking inside, the light from a tall, thin window illuminates a corpse. The body is decades old and almost completely skeletonized. The head is clearly Voeldahn, with a short snout like a feline, or possibly a rabbit. The Voeldahn are all omnivorous, with teeth like many humans; apart from hooves or pawlike, digitigrade feet, or the presence or absence of a tail, it can often be difficult to judge a Voeldahn skeleton's breed at a glance. A hole in skull, near the temple, is telling. The right arm sits on the floor, having fallen out of the socket. Beside the boney hand is a large pistol.

“What a bitch." Monica snickers.

“Don't be so quick to judge." Grey remarks.

“Why not? Whoever this was offed themselves. That's the coward's way out."

“You don't know what brought them to this point. Maybe it was just too hard." Grey rationalizes.

“I had it hard! I never even thought of that!" Monica retorts.

“Well... Bill here obvious wasn't as strong." Grey remarks as he looks at the corpse's embroidered shirt. “And from the looks of these bones, he was in bad shape. At a glance, I see a compound fracture on his left leg, and a bullet hole with dried blood in his gut. That's a lot of pain for one person to bear all alone..."

“He still took the easy way out." Monica grumbles.

Grey picks up the pistol, blowing and brushing the dust from the weapon. It's a full-sized, Bersa Thunder 9 Pro, with a black frame and matte silver slide. Getting a feel for the weapon, Grey's stunned by the ambidextrous nature of the firearm, as well as the comfort of the grips. A strange ramp is raised just behind the barrel. Performing a press check, Grey finds that the weapon is loaded. He drops the magazine to find only two more rounds in it. Fiddling with the controls, he discovers the combined decocker/safety switch.

“I guess you were right." Monica murmurs.

“What's that, Precious?" Grey looks over his shoulder at her.

“You did find another gun." She explains.

“Yeah. Just once I'd like to find something that didn't have such a sad background, though." He sighs.

“No such thing, furless."

She rests a hand on his shoulder, giving him an assuring squeeze. He rests his hand over hers, stroking her soft, rusty colored fur. Looking around the room, Grey finds a small pack. It appears to be an earth brown, M1936 Musette bag. Digging through the pack, he finds a picture of the man who lay dead in the tub. He was a brown and black furred rabbit Voeldahn. He stands alongside a human woman, with pale skin and shoulder length brown hair. From their pose and the kiss that she gives him, they appear to be an interracial couple; it's a sight common enough to not even be noteworthy. Turning his eyes toward the skeleton, Grey feels intense pity. To Monica's surprise, he pockets the picture of the couple.

“I'm sorry, Bill..." He murmurs.

Digging further into the pack, Grey chuckles.

“What?"

Monica leans in.

“Well, fuck me running." She grins.

“I'd rather you were lying down." Grey quips.

“Keep it up, furless... I might be in the mood later, especially now." She coos.

Peering into the pack, they find a wealth of canned foods and three full boxes of 9x19mm Parabellum ammunition, along with various other survival items. Examining the room and the supplies within, Grey deduces that the wounded Bill simply didn't want to die a slow and painful death. In a twist of fate, he'd left behind a wealth of supplies for the two travelers to use on their own journey.

“Come on, furless." Monica tugs gently at his shirt. “Let's get this place ready for tonight; I want to sleep in a real bed again."

“Sure thing, Precious." He says, rising to his feet.

“I may even want to put it through its paces." She winks.

“Aren't you the romantic." He smirks.

Taking the pack and his new pistol, Grey follows Monica out of the bathroom. As she turns the corner and enters the bedroom, he pauses to look sorrowfully at Bill's corpse, before slowly closing the door and joining his companion in the bedroom.