It was bedlam, exactly what you thought the end of the world was supposed to look like. Part of the house was burning, blood everywhere, bodies or bits of them spewed over all that expensive stuff. I met the whore's rat dog as we were both heading for the back door. He looked at me, I looked at him. If it'd been a conversation, it probably woulda gone like, "What about your master?" "What about yours?" "Fuck'em."