“Well, we gotta roll back into town. Break those folks out of jail. And then, I dunno. We should probably leave, right?”

Manny rolled his eyes. The casual recklessness of Roland’s confidence had been fun and reassuring when he wasn’t recovering from a gunshot wound. The events at the Tesla plant had proved to Manny that the post-human’s protection wasn’t enough to guarantee his safety. Or Sasha’s. He was the deadliest thing Manny had ever seen, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“Wait, who are you breaking out of jail?” Sasha asked.

“Those three negotiators,” Manny said, “from the City of Wheels. The women you examined and their male companion.”

Sasha gave Manny a look he couldn’t quite parse out.

“What?” he asked.

“Is that why you started talking to me?” she asked. “Because you knew I was working with those women, and you thought I’d be able to get you into the jail?”

“No–” started Manny.

“I mean, sorta, right?” finished Roland. “That was sure as shit a big plus.”

Manny glared at the post-human. Roland had all the tact and diplomacy of a chainsaw. That’s why I’m here in the first place, he reminded himself.

“Look,” Roland continued, “there’s no point in dressing any of this up. Sasha, you fled your home to join a militant terrorist organization that butchers civilians. Manny, you kinda manipulated her in the hope of getting information. I just beat, like, twenty people to death. Plus I fed Martyr Ditmar his own hand, and I feel genuinely bad about that.”

Roland shook his head. “I’m really trying to not fall completely off the murder wagon here, guys. But when I get angry AND the ­battle-drugs start flowing,” he shivered, “I get ugly.”

Once again, Roland’s words were met with stunned silence. And once again, he plowed forward nonetheless.

“What I’m sayin’ is, this whole situation is ugly as fuck and none of us is a hero. But we’re probably the least shitty people in this city with any kind of power. So let’s all forgive each other’s trespasses and use that power to try and save some nice people from being crucified or whatever it is Christians do to the people who piss them off. Is it just hanging?”

“I…” Sasha started to respond, and then shook her head in exasperation. “Probably not,” she said instead.

“Alright,” Roland clapped and put on a bright smile, “so how do we get in there? I mean, I can just sorta balls my way through the front door, or the ceiling. But since this is an actual jail it’s probably re­inforced. There’s a good chance they’ll kill the hostages before I punch my way into the cells.”