With his bugout location secure, and now stocked with some food John decided it was time to get some weapons. Carefully he made his way to the armory making damn sure this time that no one else was around. He wasn't going to slip up again like he had at the Vatican
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Yet.
Sarah paced the same stretch of floor (nineteen tiles toward the door, nineteen tiles back), unable to sit and swore she was going to throttle John when he got back. Goddamn fucker should have let her do something. Her hands curled into fists as she strained to hear him coming.
"Asshole," she growled under her breath and at nothing in particular.
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Quickly he started laying out the weapons on a nearby table from some food stand. All of them shiny, and in perfect shape. He couldn't have asked for a better result.
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"That'll do for now," she grumbled, hefting a bigger gun (possibly with a gleam of a two-year-old faced with a choice of candies and going for the biggest motherfucking sucker you've ever seen). She finished loading it with ammo and looked a little more satisfied than she was annoyed.
But not by much.
"You should have let me come with you," she shot at John a moment later. "I'm not goddamn useless."
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