Ruben had retreated into himself as the plan to make a final, desperate lunge at the Inquisitors tr. He had overseen the burning of Sonya's body, going so far as to mumble a few words over her before completing the act, and now his pale hands cradled the machine gun he'd stolen before disappearing into the portal as if it were an infant. Some of them weren't going to make it, he'd already resigned himself to that. He might be one of the ones who didn't. But it no longer mattered. If he never did a single good thing ever again, he would take as many of them down before he was dust.

"For you, Grace." A mutter spoken to the weapon in his hands. If he ran out of ammo, he'd resort to biting. The vampire looked over the ragged bunch of survivors he'd come to almost call friends.

"Sounds like the whole damn team's in there. Let's hope we can get inside before Queen Bitch comes back."