"Shit!" Wells swears under his breath. Those crossbows are bad fucking news. He checks his gun- two rounds left- well, the girls will just have to make up for that.


Some men have catechisms for when they shoot, and some have litanies.

( each of them will assist the party or parties so attacked by taking such action as it deems necessary including the use of armed force )

Wells just has a handful of treaties. But they work really well when he needs to focus. Those two bullets find their marks, and then he's back into the fray, the god's black knife slipping through the air and seeking its own targets quick as an inhuman hand can make it go.