Keith kicked a piece of rubble on the sidewalk as they strolled around town, passing frightened passerby without a care in the world. They were too ecstatic about other things to enjoy the citizens' fear. "I can't believe Sasha let us off the hook so easy!"

"Yeah, I know!" Ron certainly had his trademark bounce in his step, and he was surely grinning underneath the nasty yellow hood of his. "I mean, she was in such a good mood that she complimented my shoes!"

"Shut up, Ron. They're ugly. She just wanted to butter you up." Shaking his head when even that didn't kill Ron's mood, the red-hooded Reaper chuckled darkly and commented, "Besides, I think she's just glad that the contaminated water is working so well."

"Oh, yeah, that was a stroke of genius." Ron motioned around him, finally taking the time to take in their surroundings as he pointed out puddles of oozing black sludge. "More and more people are getting sick and dying, and some of them are even being recruited! That means more allies!"

"Yeah . . ." Then a thought came to Keith that he didn't like, and his tone held a verbal frown. "That also means that Sasha could grow tired of us."

Ron halted in his tracks, his own frown forming underneath his tattered hood. "What do you mean?" His naivety was strange, considering he was a mass-murdering villain in a ruthless gang with an uncontrollable bloodlust.

Keith scowled. "What do you mean, what do I mean?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean, what do you mean?"

"Shut up, Ron!" The red Reaper through his arms into the air, voice cracking uncharacteristically as he grew nearly frantic. "Eventually, she'll think we're useless and kill us on the spot! Henchmen are only valuable for a while, until you get newer, better henchmen with biological upgrades!" Working into a panicked frenzy, he ranted on, "One day, she'll tell someone like Jack to blow us up because we aren't updated models or some shit, and ka-boom! No more us! Blown to smithereens! Bye-bye, Empire City! Hello, Hell!"

"I thought this was Hell, tho–"

"Shut up, Ron! Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up!" He started to shake violently, staring at his trembling hands as if he was a ticking time bomb. "Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut u–"

Wham!

Keith was momentarily stunned by the feel of Ron's fist colliding with his nose beneath his hood, and a silence fell between the two of them. Suddenly sounding annoyed, the Conduit shouted, "Get a hold of yourself, Keith! We're still alive! Take a chill pill!"

He massaged his nose thoughtfully for a moment, absorbing his words. ". . . thanks, Ron. I-I needed that."

He seemed satisfied with his companion's quieted mumble. "Now," he clapped his hands together eagerly, "how about we go check out that Reaper Gentlemen's Club down the street? I've heard they've got cats for sale!"

"Ron, they're not really . . . never mind."