He felt a sliver of anxiety at the thought of his partner 'holding the perimeter' while Jet was out cold. What if Albert had been hurt or killed? Jet wouldn't have been there to help. But he keeps it to himself because, if their roles were switched, he'd have done the same thing.

He knelt by his partner's side and rubbed away the last flakes of dried blood from the German's face, relieved to see it hadn't come from there to begin with.

It was then that the state of the house he recognized as the one he'd been loitering around came to his attention. It looked horrific and between the sight of the house looking like a rotting corpse, the actual corpses in the room and the sound of tearing skin, Jet quickly found a place to sit and lean against a crumbling wall while his head found a place between his knees.

He was going to be one lucky guy if he didn't end up attempting to spit his stomach out of his mouth.

"What the hell's been going on? This place looks like some B-movie horror flick."