It’s Hutch, sounding like a kid at a magic show. And now for my next trick... I drop the now empty gun, draw my knife and shrug. “I lied.” Before anyone can applaud my subterfuge, a chorus of war cries turns us around. While Quinlan was bartering for me like a slab of tuna in a fish market, his men snuck up behind us. The first of them dives through the gate, his knife swiping at Vegas’s gut. The blade misses, but Vegas is forced to leap back, and the rest flood through. I count seven; the five faithful to chaos and two of the warier ones, who hold weapons at the ready, but take up defensive postures. The missing three have either fled, or stayed in the jungle, perhaps able to resist the call to arms since Quinlan bit the dust. Berg and Duff are both missing. While two of the Diablos engage Vegas, another attacks Twig. The remaining two come for Hutch, Gwen and me. Hutch brings his shield around in front of him and Gwen, and the pair start stabbing at the air between them and the Diablo.
