If blood getting all over our clothes and protective equipment was a problem, imagine getting bits and pieces of someone who died—and turned into a living corpse and roamed a good part of a year under the sun—get all over you.
It was like those juices with pulp but fucking way, way~ worse.
In any case, the reason Ibarra lobbed the grenade was that there was movement in the upturned van— no, it's because the van moved itself and we're not fucking playing around to see what comes out of the box.
And right as it landed beside it, there were more chunks of meat and sinew that flew in the air than scrap metal.
The van in question was just ruptured as a pig part of its interior was like one of those normal, everyday items that were actually cake but instead replaced with human body parts.
It just made me double-tap the van as I lobbed another grenade at its "entrance" before the two of us took a few more steps back.
"What the fuck's in there, sir?!"