Brody shouted angrily-that stereo was a gift from his foster sister-and hefted one of the remaining Purifiers up by their legs and swung their entire form into the one rushing him with the bat. When they both hit the ground in a heap he kicked the mound of them into the far wall of garage with enough force to shake the room.

He turned and grabbed the gun from the lady's hands and wrenched it from her grip, and used it as club against the one whose arms were probably thoroughly broken from when he jumped earlier. Brody snapped the gun over his knee like kindling and the last Purifier that wasn't the lady, the one recovering from the earlier crowbar hit, got a one-two punch from Brody chucking the remnants of the gun at his head hard enough to dent the zealot's helmet.

Brody turned back to the lady. All the jumping and moving around had landed Brody next to the cigarette he'd lit before being fired on, and he picked it up and put it in his mouth, before squaring the lady left standing with a very displeased look.