"That is not an image I needed, thanks guys," 'Sidora says as he follows Cat and Hancock down. "And frankly, if it's hot and not poisoned, I'll probably eat it."

He's grinning at the exchange, comfortable around people who snark as a primary form of communication.

Epimetheus drops down and moves forward to take point again, still looking back at Cat for direction, but preferring to be between the humans and harm.

"You must not have a very active imagination," says Hancock, who is both leering and flirting blatantly.

Cat rolls her eyes and checks the map again. "I think this is the parking garage for the hospital.... If we go through it we should hit the front of the building." She points forward and to the right a ways. "There might be some ferals still in there, but I kind of doubt it. Anything with more than two brain cells to rub together either can't or doesn't coexist with super mutants."

"I can take point for the ferals," Hancock suggests, now paying attention. "There's always a few under cars or whatever."

"We are not having that discussion," Epimetheus says firmly, although it's clearly aimed more at Anesidora and Prometheus.

She compares her own copy of the map to what Cat is saying. She nods slightly to Anesidora.

"I rather imagine nothing with more than two braincells would want to coexist with those things," 'Sidora says with a grimace. "And I think we're perfectly willing to let an expert on the matter go first."

Both Wastelanders snort, though in response to different things. Cat hands her mean dagger to Hancock, who exchanges it for all but one of his shotgun shells and strolls off into the concrete structure.

He disappears from view, and shortly, there's a loud, single gunshot. Cat doesn't look worried.

Epimetheus is watching after Hancock, a metallic replica of a clicking tongue echoing from her mouth. Neither her nor Prometheus jump at the gunshot (Anesidora does, but barely).

"My assumption is that ferals are incapable of using guns, although I should query that assumption as assuming anything is a very rapid way of making a fool of yourself."

Cat shrugs. "Never seen one do it, anyway. They pretty much just go, 'Argh,' and throw themselves at you. Unless you're already a ghoul, in which case they just ignore you, even if you're walking around stabbing them to death systematically." She gestures vaguely; it's clear Hancock is doing just that. "Who knows why."

"Well, if they are lacking in intelligence due to the mutation the radiation has caused, they may be resorting to a more pack-like behaviour. And if they are relying on senses that indicate whether the person near them is a ghoul or not, rather than intelligence to identify whether or not that person is a threat, it is entirely possible that they do not register the threat of being stabbed to death?"

'Sidora snorts, and Epime shakes her head.

"So, how do we know we're clear?" 'Sidora asks, looking around for something to perch on in the meantime.

Hancock comes back into view, the dagger and half of one pant leg smeared with thick, dark blood and traces of something green and glowing. He waves at them from a distance, then waits for them to catch up.

"That was fast," Cat comments.

"Only a couple of 'em," he explains, and hands over her dagger. She makes a face and wipes the ichor off on her thigh before sheathing it. "Third one was a Glowing One, though. 'Cause nothing says 'hospital' like barrels of radioactive waste in the parking lot." He starts leading the way to the front of the building.

"Glowing One?" Prometheus asks, head tilting. "I assume a...different variety of ghoul?"

"Yeah," Cat says absently, as she redistributes the appropriate ammunition between herself and Hancock. "They're, like, walking radiation."

Hancock points to the side. "There's that one."

To their left is a prone humanoid form, which is indeed glowing a sickly green. A pool of what is presumably blood, a darker shade of the same color, has collected underneath it. Cat makes sure to give it a wide berth, even though the group is already several yards away.

Epimetheus carefully shepherds Anesidora more towards Cat, eyeing the glowing corpse.

"Scans only," she tells Prometheus. "No samples."

(Prometheus whines.)

"Well, if the car park has been cleared of potential hostiles, let us continue on our way to the hospital. I must admit that the previous fight reminded me just how much I had missed my primary purpose."

Cat glances over at the comment. "Yeah? Guess it's different if you're programmed that way."

"I suppose it is," Epimetheus agrees. "I do not mean to belittle how dangerous your lives are, or how skilled you are at surviving and fighting. It is simply very strange being an AGI created for the purpose of war, in a world where wars no longer exist."

"Epime," 'Sidora murmurs, "You were more than that."

He shakes his head. "Regardless, we did come here with the purpose of clearing this hospital out. Doesn't seem to be much purpose in delaying."

"I mean, technically we don't have wars anymore either," Cat says ruefully. "Not enough people. But hey, if you like killing things, have I got some good news for you."

They've reached the other end of the proto-building at this point, and the hospital is right in front of them. Despite the sign having fallen down sometime in the intervening centuries, it's still easily recognizable as a super mutant lair, given their, er... taste in home decor. Two mutants are sitting on the steps, throwing pebbles at each other, apparently for lack of anything else to do. As long as the group stays in the shadow of the garage, they're unlikely to be seen, but the stretch of road between the two buildings is both bare and brightly lit in the afternoon sun.

Epimetheus is somewhat tellingly silent.

"It's not exactly about enjoying killing," 'Sidora explains after giving her a quick look. "It's about enjoying figuring out the best way to win the fight. In this case, leaving super mutants alive did not seem like a wise move."

"Do you wish to attempt sniping them again?" Prometheus asks Cat politely. "Or would you like myself and Epimetheus to run distraction to get you a better angle for attacking them?"

Cat gives Epime a considering glance, pauses, then says, "Yeah, super mutants don't really do 'peaceful surrender' so much." It's deliberately beside the point. Hancock watches the exchange but doesn't say anything.

At Prometheus's question, she unslings her hunting rifle. "Is everyone here short- or medium-range except for me?"

"I am capable of long range, but currently lack an appropriate weapon," Epimetheus says. "This chassis was not, as Sir has pointed out, truly intended for combat."

"It was not something I ever felt the need to ensure I was capable of, I was rarely not functioning with a unit that had a long-range specialist."

"I never quite got the hang of sniping," 'Sidora admits cheerfully. "Like 'Metheus says, there was always a long-range specialist with our units. Frequently for me it was Epime."

"Okay, so then... why don't you all hide around the corner there?" She points. "And then I'll snipe one of 'em from back there, and when they run in you can ambush them, or whichever one is still alive, anyway."