The cronies, post meltdown, discussing the sad state of their affairs and their choices in a not-so secret location. Scott makes an appearance.
Three of them came to the not-so-secret hide-away in the abandoned church to basically bitch about what had just happened.
“Did you see him crying? It’s like he just grew tits…” said Graydon
“That fucking Tranny Essel got to him. I kinda sympathise,” said Brent.
Graydon punched what was left of the altar. “I’m’a kill that fucking tranny someday.”
“I’ll help,” volunteered Paul.
“Not today, we don’t,” said Brent. “That tranny expects it. I’d bet money he’s lying in wait for us to fuck up.”
“You volunteering to fuck it?” leered Paul.
“Dude! Sick!”
The other two cackled. “He can’t be a fag,” said Graydon. “He fucked Sally Richards just last week.”
“Hasn’t everyone fucked Sally Richards? Fucking slut.”
“Damn straight, I’m straight.”
“You know,” said a voice from the shadows, “The less secure you are about your sexuality, the more likely you are to be in the closet.”
Summers stepped out of the shadows. He had some kind of weird costume on. And a strange headpiece over his eyes. “Near as I see it, you guys have two options. Surrender to the cops, or head to Narnia.”
“What cops?” asked Paul.
Lights shone through the windows. Sirens blatted briefly.
“Those cops,” said Summers. “By the way, Dunc ratted you out. Have fun pleading innocence.”
Graydon charged. Summers did something with his headpiece and a red bolt of light knocked him into the nearest wall.
“Well?” he asked the other two. “Surrender or Narnia?”
Brent, the smartest of the three, sat with his hands on his head.