"No one is safe

When freedom falls.

The best men rot in filthy jails,

And those who cried, 'Appease, Appease!'

Are hung by those they tried to please." - Hiram Mann

The few rays of morning's unusually bright sunlight slipped through her window blinds and the trouble of beaming themselves directly onto her eyes, so bright and obnoxious. The hangover begins its siege, and with it comes a god-awful headache. Powerful was this call to reality that Juliet was swiftly pulled from slumber. The throbbing in her head would not stop no matter how hard she tried to return to the dreamscape, and damn it all she wishes for five more minutes of rest. Yet, Juliet gave up after a few minutes of tossing and turning, and lazily swung the comforter off so she could sit up.

Rubbing the grit from her eyes, Watson observed the sight of Dana laid out across the length of her couch, an arm dangling off the cushions and snoring ever so slightly. Just before Ward and lying haphazardly on the floor, just beside the small table with empty plastic cups and an empty wine bottle, Stella lay on her stomach, out like a light. Juliet could see her face was squished against the carpet floor.

Alyssa and Brooke were nowhere to be seen, having left the room some time ago.

Juliet took this moment to remember the impromptu, alcohol-induced celebration they had last night, of how they'd survived the onslaught on Prescott's hounds. It had been a pyrrhic victory, and the wound Brooke had sustained will last for a couple weeks, but at least now the line had been drawn. Prescott was on borrowed time, once the rest of the student population turned on him and the ABPD decide to get involved.

Juliet followed that thought by noting the acrid smell of sweat and wine on herself. She needed a shower.

Sarcastically glad to note she still had both her grey shirt and pair of jeans on, she shuffled out of bed and across the room, moving carefully to not disturb her friends and reaching her closet space. She took her time—choosing a practical black t-shirt and another pair of jeans, along with other garments—then grabbing her small bag of toiletries before sneaking out into the hall.

The click of her door lock was so loud in the stifling silence of the second floor, and as she looked around Juliet couldn't help but feel a sudden sense of suspicion. It was as quiet as nighttime, despite it being Friday morning, a school day.

Had everyone collectively decided to skip classes or something?

Dissuading herself, Juliet instead made her way to the showers, blaming her paranoia on Prescott and his hounds for what they did yesterday. She at least wanted to start her morning off relaxed and free of whatever bullshit Nathan had in store.

Quietly opening the bathroom door, she managed a few steps inside before halting, as stiff, choked sobs sounded from the opposite end of the room. Slowly did Watson tip-toe closer to the source of sorrow, there in the shower stall farthest from the door. She gasped when she was able to look beyond the corner, to see Alyssa curled up in that stall, arms drawn around her legs and shuddering.

"Alyssa?"

The girl jerked, bloodshot blue eyes glanced at the bronze-brunette with fright, then Anderson looked away, in shame. She no longer wept now, but tears flowed all the same, and Juliet could see them behind the stocky girl's hands as she hid her face.

"Alyssa, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she choked out, muffled, "I'm sorry—"

"Hey, hey, it's alright," setting her items down, Juliet crouched down next to Alyssa in the stall, sitting on the opposite wall next to her, "just...talk to me, what's going on?"

When she dropped her hands, Alyssa became twitchy, nervously lolling her head this way and that, her eyes had yet to look to their concerned green counterparts and it worried Juliet even more so.

"At the doors, y-yesterday."

Juliet nodded for Anderson to continue.

"Dana was right. I got scared. And panicked. Told you both to stay," she rasped out, as if straining herself to speak, "I was wrong. I messed up, and—and Brooke paid for it," another tear swept down her cheek, "s-she told me they got cornered again just before the gate, we could've helped them."

"Brooke?"

"Yeah. She woke up when I did, and I asked her," Alyssa sniffled, tucking her head down, "it's my fault she got hurt."

Juliet hesitated, then very cautiously spoke, "I mean, you had to have a reason behind why you told us to wait, didn't you? Wasn't it...something about your parents?"

Anderson curled even more on herself. There was quiet for a few seconds.

"Yes," she finally whispered.

"Do you…are you okay with talking about it?" Watson asked softly, worriedly.

Again, a pause.

"We were on the highway, where the 101 and the I-5 branch off near Olympia," a hand wiped at her watery eyes, "Traffic had been congested so badly, an' we were stuck in one place for hours. People were in a panic, they didn't care who got in their way—sniffle—and, my parents were out of the car, trying to talk to some other drivers about getting off the freeway, finding some other route to use. Something like that. All I remember vividly is one of those drivers getting out of their car and start getting aggressive with my parents. Road rage."

Juliet observed the other girl's hands clench to fists, white-knuckled and shaking.

"They pulled a knife. My parents didn't notice it. I tried to warn my mom and dad and got out of the car as quickly as I could. They had turned towards me, and that's all it took," and the tears flowed again, Alyssa's brows were knotted into a bitter frown, "Mom got the worst of it. Dad tried to carry her through traffic to the nearest hospital. He didn't get far."

"What about the guy with the knife?" Juliet prodded.

"Dad beat him to an inch of his life. The people he was with took him away."

Juliet swore, lost for words, "I'm so sorry, Alyssa."

"It's not an excuse," she whimpered, then curled back up, "it's not an excuse. I did it again. I did it again—"

Juliet placed a hand, gently yet firmly upon Alyssa's knee, "Stop. Blaming yourself isn't doing anyone any good."

Another sniffle, then came some withered chuckling.

"Yet you blame me, don't you?"

It was Juliet's turn to look away.

From beside her, Alyssa sighed and buried her head, "It's fine. Brooke feels the same way."

"How so?"

"I told her everything. She got really mad at me for putting Stella in danger. Told me what I needed to hear," another sniffle, the tears had fallen and left long trails down flushed cheeks, "I'd rather this, than her hate me silently, forever."

Juliet hadn't anything to say to that, so she gently squeezed Anderson's knee, and held her hand there. Truth be told, she did feel that Alyssa was partially to blame for what happened to Brooke, and that even despite their smaller number, they could have held their ground against the hounds.

Yet she could see Alyssa was not of ill intention, and had done so out of a legitimate fear. She'd have to talk to Dana about this later today.

"I'm not here to berate you, so don't think I will. I just want you and Dana to sort this out between yourselves," and Juliet stood up, "For what it's worth, I think Dana will understand."

Alyssa also stood, tired of moping around, "I hope so. I really hope so."

Juliet had gathered her stuff again, and Alyssa took the hint, stepping out and making her way to the exit. Before she reached for the handle, she turned back.

"Juliet?"

"Yeah?" Watson looked to the stocky girl.

"Thank you. For this," Anderson clumsily spoke, giving a strained smile.

"You're my friend, Alyssa. Friends gotta look out for each other," Juliet gave a bright smile of her own, "All five of us, we got each other's backs, remember that."

With that, Alyssa took her leave from the bathroom. Juliet looked to the door for a second after it closed, sighed, and deduced she needed a stress reliever.

Juliet returned to her room, clean as a whistle, to find Dana now awake and relaxing on the couch with her iPhone in hand. The auburnette smiled when she noticed her.

"Mornin' Jules."

"Hey Dana," Juliet replied, shuffling to the laundry basket and dumping her old clothes. There was a certain lack of a third person in the room, and Watson inquired, "Where'd Stella go?"

"She went out like, a few minutes ago. Joked about needing some crack to get her up," Ward chuckled, finishing whatever message she'd been typing on her phone and sitting up, eager for something, "So, I don't know about you, but I'm not interested in being straight up hunted while going to classes. You get what I mean?"

"You're skipping?"

"Damn right I'm skipping, and so are the rest of us. Wells obviously isn't going to help us out, so why should we risk our lives for schoolwork and attendance?"

Juliet pauses, then shrugs, "huh, good point."

"And I know just how to fill the gap for today: the five of us with a movie marathon in my room! I got some DVD's that my dad sent me a week ago, and there's a few I haven't watched yet," the excitement shone in how Dana bounced from her spot on the couch and ricocheted across the room, ending up at the edge of Watson's bed, "Whadd'ya think?"

This is probably the best time to talk to her alone.

"Hey, Dana?"

"Yeah?" she chirped.

"I need to talk to you about something first."

The excitement vanished at Juliet's serious tone, "What, what's wrong?"

"It's about Alyssa."

Like that, the frown made itself known, and Ward stalked her full height and spoke heavy, "What about her?"

"She's not doing well. I met her in the bathroom, and she was really upset over what she did. I'm talking, like, crying-upset," and Juliet tilted her head to glance over to her best friend, "I think you and her should seek forgiveness."

Dana didn't move, nor did she budge, "What, am I supposed to feel pity over that? She knew what she was doing, Jules, you were there! She did that because she froze up—because she was scared."

"She was scared, D', but not for the reasons we thought," Watson had finished fixing her hair into her trademark bun, and faced the cheerleader, "I asked her about that, and…you know how she said something about her parents?"

Dana's frown receded, "What about them?"

"I found out that Alyssa's mom was…well, stabbed by some guy on road rage, and Alyssa thinks it was because she tried to step in and help that caused it to happen," Juliet's nervous hand rubbed the back of her neck, "it's why she stopped us, she was afraid things would get worse if we met Nathan's hounds head-on."

Dana sighed, and swore to herself under her breath.

"Fuck, man."

"Yeah, it's bad," Juliet agreed, "and you and her setting things right again would definitely help everyone out."

Dana frowned still, "Alright, alright. Doesn't mean I'm not gonna chew her out though."

"I mean, Brooke already did that, that's why Alyssa was in the bathroom," Juliet clarified, "please go easy on her, D', she's already beating herself up over it."

"Why are you being so lenient with her, Jules?" Dana bluntly asked, to which she followed up with, "Like, I get that she's Stella's friend, but what's up with that?"

"She's our friend, not just Stella's," Watson replied, "How do you think Stella would feel if she heard you call her that? We all stick together, Dana, all of us," and the bronze-brunette emphasized this by a circular motion of the hand, "all I'm asking you is to let Alyssa apologize, and move on. That's it."

Dana looked to her bestie of four years, and honestly nodded, "Alright. I'll hear her out."

Ward beheld the sight of her friend's bright green eyes, shining, so bright in the light of the sun. Whatever doubts of not bringing peace to their friend group were dashed away then, and Dana cursed herself for letting pettiness get the better of her.

"By the way, I call dibs on first movie," and Watson broke out into a cheeky grin as the auburnette gave her an exasperated look, then bursting into chuckles, "Oh, I know how this works, D'. You got the rest of them fooled, but not me!"

Juliet immediately dodged the speeding pillow that was tossed in her direction, resulting in a slight thump as it impacted the wall behind her. Guffaws rose at the miss.

"Cheeky ass," Dana swore, despite her own smirk, "I'll see you in my room, ten minutes."

"Sure thing."

"You can rest now," and Jed trudged through the park of their childhood, carrying his dying little brother in his arms, towards their salvation. The snow was caked on his worn, yet resilient boots, much like the blood that caked Matt's camouflage winter coat, and the ushanka his little brother wore swayed with his limp head a bit every time he took a step, "Just hang on to me."

The attack on the occupied train station had been a costly success, and as the blood poured from both his brother's wounds and his own Jed thought to fulfill the last dying wish they shared as brothers. The biting cold had made his hands numb and his movements sluggish, yet still he trudged on, past the dormant trees and the shining glow of the park lamps.

The weight and his waning strength undermined his efforts and they crashed to the cold ground, Jed desperately clutched to his sibling and spouted, tiredly, "Look at me, look at me," reaching around the splayed form of his brother, "Daddy'll be here soon."

Taking one arm, Jed tugged at the limp form on the ground to rise, and Matt rose to a sitting position, completely exhausted.

"Come on, man, Daddy'll be here soon," and the older teenager took his younger brother under both arms, and dragged him to the park bench. Hoisting the strengthless sibling onto the wooden seat, Jed huffed a tired breath of air and held his brother close. The gunshot wound in his stomach was turning numb and had yet to stop leaking blood. The heavy green jacket he wore covered it at least. He only hoped he had enough time to see his brother through his own fatal wound before he went as well.

"I just want you to hold on to me, as long as you can," Jed begged him, and glanced back to their favorite swing set behind them and feeling tears swell in his eyes. His entire being became weighted by the presence of mortality, his heart turned to stone when he couldn't see the rise and fall of Matt's chest anymore.

"I'm so tired," Jed rasped, his lifeless brother's head nudged against his shoulder. The lamp lights glittered in the dark as he shuddered.

There came a transition, and Danny along with Erica emerge into frame, returning to the battlefield they and their fellow Wolverines resided in. They beheld a memorial, with a plaque enshrined in chiseled stone and an American flag waving forlornly in the background, next to a cliff marked by the names of the forgotten.

Upon the plaque, laid out in its iron font, it read:

PARTISAN ROCK

In the early days of World War III, guerillas, mostly children,

Placed the names of their lost upon this rock.

They fought here alone and gave up their lives

So that this Nation

Shall not perish

From the Earth

The credits roll, and are drowned out by the sound of shuffling as the quintet of girls move from their spots on Dana's bed and floor, some taking a stretch, some wiping sparse tears from their eyes. Dana herself stood and made to remove the CD from the player, wanting to be extra careful with the assortment of drinks and snacks near the TV, that which served as an impromptu lunch for the squad.

"What a movie, man, goddamn," remarked Stella, beside herself, "like, yeah it was cheesy sometimes, but that ending is just," she taps a fist to her heart, "it hurts."

"I think what bothered me the most were the exaggerated action scenes," Brooke commented, "like, if they had toned down the over-the-top explosions, and the dudes flying into the air whenever a grenade went off, it would've definitely been a better film, I'm just saying."

"Oh yeah? This is coming from the same person that thinks the remake is better," Stella jested, earning her an exasperated look from the Filipina.

"If you don't shut—Stella, I swear to God—"

"Wait, there's a remake of this?" Alyssa asked, curious.

"Yeah dude, it's even got Chris Hemsworth and that guy who plays Peeta in The Hunger Games, Josh Hutcherson," said Stella, relishing the warning glare being sent her way, "y'know, the same guy that someone believes is the whole reason the remake was better—"

"You know that's not even close to my reasons for it, don't kid yourself."

"Oh, I think we all know what kinda reasons you got for having the entire collection of The Hunger Games and the whole Journey series," Stella barbed, a cocky smirk adorned her face, "I bet you like to fantasize Warren as Peeta, don'tchya Brooke?"

"This is bullshit," Brooke very plainly remarked, picking up the empty bag of chips beside her, "I'm getting some more chips," she said, duly ignoring the pile of them on the desk and heading for the door.

"Oh, you know I'm right! You can't escape this one," and Stella cackled, hyped from the spoils of verbal victory, "Warren and Brookie, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"

Alyssa and Juliet chuckled along with her as Brooke gave the ebony brunette a one-finger salute, and swiftly took her leave for the vending machine down the hall.

Watson did not voice it, but the movie they had watched, Red Dawn, had been one of her father's favorites while growing up. Though she had a greater preference for mysteries or romcoms, this one film held a special place in her heart. If she had to give an answer to this feeling, it probably had to do with her father's role as a journalist during the Vietnam War and the US invasion of Grenada in 1983, and how he had done his best to show her what being an American reporter at the height of the Cold War had felt like. How he'd come back home after months of being away, sometimes near the dead of night, and he'd lament about the things he reported on, the things he knew and had seen. She can't recall any of it, but that certain feeling was there, there in the back of everyone's mind.

Mutually Assured Destruction.

Indeed, the world is still mad, if only for different reasons.

"Right, I'm going to the bathroom, gotta wash this dust off my hands," Juliet picked herself up and trudged to the bathroom, careful to not contaminate the door handles with the remnants of those spicy chips she'd snagged.

Dana and Alyssa had resolved whatever bad blood between them, and that was another weight off Juliet's shoulders. She'd been unsure on where Brooke stood about the whole situation, but she guessed it didn't matter much to the Filipina after the scorning she gave to Anderson.

The situation within Blackwell hadn't been any better than yesterday, but what had been expected to happen…didn't. Juliet pondered about it further as she turned the faucet on and washed her hands.

Principal Wells, who had been exceptionally adamant about letting her know the consequences of defying Blackwell's puppet-administration, had not given her so much as an email about her publishing of the truth. Watson speculated what the principal said was a bluff, as by now the story would be too far ingrained into everyone's minds following the nightmare of yesterday's events for the head of administration to do anything about it. Either that, or by sheer luck the old man hadn't heard the news of what happened and had determined the incident in the cafeteria as a fluke of sorts, though she highly doubted that.

Nathan had been notably quiet as well since last afternoon. Granted, he didn't need to be. However, Juliet had long considered his strategy to be more of a relentless onslaught of attacks, verbal or otherwise to silence his opponents, especially when the spotlight of attention was focused on him. Whatever move he was planning on, it definitely will be something big, only time will tell.

And between her, herself, and no one else, Chris Hemsworth was far better of a choice than Josh Hutcherson, but she wasn't about to go blabbing that to Brooke or anyone—

bababang

She perked her head up from observing the sink, yet whatever she heard was drowned by the running faucet. Thinking nothing of it, Juliet turned the faucet off and made for the paper towels. She didn't want to be late for the next movie, considering the next one was gonna be picked by Dana. Perhaps she'd pick Wall-E, or maybe she'd dare to try Superbad—

bababang—babang

The bronze-brunette jerked her head northwards towards what would be the main building, and felt dread creep ever slowly in her heart. Rushing out the bathroom, she found that her friends had gathered into the hall, having heard the same thing.

"What the hell was that?" Stella asked, nervously.

"It's probably another firework or something, Prescott's at it again," Brooke quickly dissuaded, shaking her head in disbelief. She really had gone back to the vending machine, but had gotten a drink instead of chips.

"You guys heard that too?" Juliet inquired, the intangible weight that befell her heart growing heavy.

"Yeah, it sounded like it came from the main building, but I don't—"

bang—bababang

Goose flesh bloomed on their skin as the sound was clearer this time, more thunderous.

"Gunfire," Alyssa muttered, then more nervously, "That's gunfire!"

"…are you sure Alyssa?" Stella anxiously quipped, "I-I mean, it could just be—"

bang—bangbang

No one spoke this time around. No one could deny it any longer.

"Everyone, get to your rooms quick, we're getting the fuck out of here!" Juliet then booked it to her room, hearing a chorus of footfalls as they others scrambled to their respective dorms.

Watson fished for her lone purse, a black leather hand-me-down from her mother, stuffing it in her satchel and checking to see all the stuff she needed was still inside, and then scurried back out into the hall.

bang—bang

Stella and Dana were the first ones to group up, adorned with their own bags. Brooke followed shortly after with a backpack. Alyssa thundered down the hallway after some seconds, slinging her own backpack over her shoulders as they moved for the stairs.

"Come on, let's go—!"

bababang

Blitzing down the flights of steps, the girls stopped before the dormitory entrance. Juliet stood poised at the doors and looked back to her squad.

They awaited her, eyes fluttering to the doors and back, anxious, and afraid.

"We're gonna head through the gate, then swing left down the corridor and run for the street. Whatever's out there, they're over by the main building, so we just gotta slink past them and they'll never notice," and with that she laid her hands upon one of the door handles—

The doors swung inwards, nearly thwacking the reporter as she recoiled from the sudden force, and confronting the girls was none other than Nathan's right had man, Carl. Markson and two other hounds flanking him were draped with camouflage and gear, dull green tactical vests with pockets full of magazines and various items. In their hands, sleek and intimidating, were assault rifles, their barrels immediately pointed toward the quintet who raised their hands.

"Jesus—!"

"Don't shoot, don't shoot—!"

"Nobody fucking move!" Markson barked, his hounds shouting similar phrases as they converged, rifles at the ready and circling the terrified girls, "Outside, now!"

It was over in seconds as they corralled Juliet's group outside, prodding them with their guns onwards towards the main building. They treaded skittishly, afraid that one of the hounds would become trigger-happy and put a premature end to them. Juliet kept a grim frown on her face, careful to not betray her sudden swell of fear.

They moved swiftly, and Carl led them to the bright red entrance of the main building, barging his way in and directing them to the cafeteria down the left hallway. Juliet saw the slumped forms of the two on-duty security guards laying just outside the double-doors to the cafeteria. One poor soul had been shot, and a pool of crimson ichor was spilled around his head; the other was as still as him, also long gone. Carl glanced down at the corpses and snickered, as if he had taken their lives, snickering like he was proud of his handiwork. Watson's stomach tightened to knots.

He burst through the cafeteria doors, Juliet and her friends came in a second after and took in the sight of most the other students and teachers, herded into the open space and guarded with a couple more of Markson's hounds. They were ordered to toss their packs and bags and were unceremoniously shoved into the mass of hostages, gathering together at the edge of the cowering populace.

"Keep an eye on these ones," Carl directed specifically to the guards, "Prescott has first pickings on which one gets the bullet when he comes back. See to it that they don't cause any disruptions until then," and those cold, gleeful eyes of his glared down at Juliet, and she knew why he had a smile on his face. It was only a matter of time for them now, and that terrible panic in her chest wasn't dispelling anytime soon.

Markson and his posse took their leave, leaving the girls with the couple of his other henchmen to sit and stew in their dread.

"Hey, you good?" Stella asked Brooke, who'd nearly smacked her face into the tile after being pushed.

"Yeah, I'm fine," came the bitter reply, as Juliet looked on into the crowd to discern any familiar faces, hoping to see none.

"This is fucked, we're so fucked," Dana murmured, unable to keep still, turning this way and that to find some way out of their predicament, "there's got to be a way out of here."

"There isn't," Alyssa hissed, eyeing the closest guard glaring daggers at them, "these guys are likely trigger-happy, try anything and they might kill you without a second thought."

Juliet eyed their guards, two lads both armed with assault rifles of their own. Both had balaclavas or ski masks covering their faces, leaving only angry eyes visible. They had vests on as well, various shades of dark beige and woodland green. They stood uncaring over the crowd, who had taken to sitting on the floor and at the tables, speaking in hushed choruses of whispers and coughs.

From right next to her, Alyssa murmured her two cents, "the hound right in front of us has a Ruger-556, thirty round magazine, probably semi-auto. His buddy's got the same setup, but I can't tell what rifle it is from here."

"Since when did you know anything about guns?" Dana snipped.

"You have to consider what best protects you from anyone who threatens you, self-defense doesn't have to be just a knife and pepper spray," Anderson rationalized, careful to keep her voice down, "After what happened to my mom, my family wasn't taking any chances, and neither are these guys."

Juliet concurred, and prayed for a higher power to save them from this hell.

"'Ey, Drake, come over here," and they all looked to the closest guard beckoning his friend, who trudged over as if annoyed, "What, what is it?"

"Ain't that the bitch you decked to the ground yesterday?" the unnamed hound pointed to Brooke, partially hidden behind an increasingly irate Stella.

"Y'know, now that you mention it, yeah it is!" and his companion, Drake, sniggered like a goblin, "How does it feel, bitch? Still crying about it to your friends here?" he taunted.

"Fuck off," the Filipina deadpanned, fidgeting slightly further into the crowd.

"Nah, hold on, I wanna see it," and suddenly the hound—Drake—stepped right into the lot of them, brushing Dana off to the side and ready to trample his way to Brooke.

"Dude wait, don't—!" Drake's buddy readied his rifle.

"Get the fuck over here—" the boy was suddenly blocked by Stella, who took the initiative to shove him back, knocking him slightly off balance and away from Brooke.

"Fuck off, Hurensohn!" she barked, and was rewarded with a gun in her face as Drake spat back at her, "The fuck you just say to me?!"

"Stella, don't—!" Dana pleaded, the others simultaneously converged around the now standing girl, unflinching even with assured death staring back at her.

"Sit the fuck down, dumb-nazi-bitch! You fucking hear me?!" Drake yelled, his eyes wild and his finger on the trigger. The entire cafeteria watched in muted terror as Stella did not back down, instead she smiled at the hound, wide and toothy and terrifying.

"As if I give a damn—!"

Sch-thnk

The sound of a knife sliding through flesh caught their attention, as frantic movement erupted behind Drake, startling them. The hound swung his rifle back towards his now flailing comrade, who was locked in the grip of an elusive silhouette and screaming for his life.

"What the fuck—?!"

Drake was immediately tackled by a lanky blue haired figure to his right, appearing from the cafeteria doors and driving the both of them to the floor. Scurrying from the mess, Juliet and her friends witnessed another figure, small and petite with chin-length brown hair now scurry to blue's aid, restraining Drake who was on his stomach and yapping like a feral dog, demanding they let him go.

Juliet felt her eyes snap over to the sight of Drake's comrade going limp and suddenly dropping to the floor with his rifle like dead weight. The culprit to his demise stood over the dead hound, with a bloody knife clutched in their hand. This culprit was similar the brunette, but with roughened blonde hair and wide hazel eyes.

Wait, that almost looks like—

The cafeteria was struck silent as Max, Kate and Chloe consolidated around their still yapping prisoner, the latter stripping him of his AR and cueing him in by poking the barrel on the back of his head and growling, loudly, "Shut the fuck up, 'fore I blow your fucking head off."

A/N - Hurensohn, German, "Son of a bitch"