"Just fine, thanks for asking," says a woman with a face like fifty years of sunburn all caught up with her at once. "Since none of us are dead at the moment, anyway."

The younger woman she's tied to is a little too busy staring at the mess that used to be Hazmat Hood to answer.

"Damn it, I think my husband's blanked out- Thomas? Thomas." She jerks her arm away from the third prisoner, who doesn't respond. "He gets these flashes sometimes when things go poorly, I'm afraid."