That was the beginning of the end. Face managed to herd Murdock through the wreckage without touching him. He settled him in the front passenger seat of the van, but when B.A. came lurching towards the vehicle with Hannibal in his arms, he found Face making Murdock move to the back.
Face tried to formulate a reason for it. Tried to falter through an explanation, tried to lie about why he couldn't be in the back, about why he wasn't able to sit closest to Hannibal. Seeing the undeniable pain in the conman's eyes, however, B.A. shushed him with a lump in his throat and made Murdock open the rear doors.
He carefully eased Hannibal's body into the back. He'd never be able to wash away the feeling of carrying an impossibly heavy, completely limp man. His arms would always remember it. Some times at night he still woke up with the sensation, and it always made him turn on the light to make sure it wasn't real.
Face was able to hold himself together with a very thin thread until they pulled into the parking lot of the crematory where Hannibal had purchased pre-paid services. The boss always had a plan, even if the outcome was unthinkable.
Then Face lost it; he left the van and stood at the rear doors, kicking and weeping and begging no one in particular that this couldn't be happening, that this was a mistake, that this wasn't fair and he wasn't going to put up with it. Hannibal, you get up right now! This isn't funny anymore! Goddamn it, Hannibal!
B.A. worried he'd go so far as to harm himself; then he felt ashamed he was more upset that there would be more bloodstains to clean out of his van than he was about whether or not Face would damage his most valuable commodity. He hid his selfish thoughts behind a wall of tears. It didn't take much for him to work into crying either.
Murdock stood next to Face—not touching him, B.A. noticed, there was no arm over the shoulders, no comforting hug—as B.A. went to get help. The pilot was murmuring to his friend. Face didn't seem to hear and didn't respond verbally to whatever comfort he might be getting, but he did eventually calm down enough to stop demanding Hannibal stop pretending.
When it was all said and done, their Colonel, the man with the plan, was given to them in a tin; they weren't paid for the job because the evidence was blown away; and Murdock had latched onto the delusion that he and his teammates were the Four Horsemen.
Their Apocalypse had come.