Trombley points at a bombed-out truck, still smoking on the side of the road: "Get some! Look at that truck." Brad nods. "BM-21, a legit target." There's something sexual, or carnal, or ... No, it's sexual, Trombley moaning softly in the backseat: "Ahh. It's like a Halloween funhouse. Ha!" Bodies, on the side of the road, charred and ripped, body parts, men and women, ordinary cars exploded and bombed-out on the side of the road. Brad's not feeling it. "Stay frosty." He radios back to Espera after spotting a car with some dead guys in it: "Two One Bravo, two men in that car to our three. Do you see weapons?" Nope. They're still dead, though. They weren't armed, but they're dead. Maybe somebody thought they saw something else, maybe they saw a glint or a flash and thought the men were armed. And that's the best case scenario.
Evan stares out the window: by the side of the road, the body of a little girl. She has no legs. Sadly, Brad nearly whispers to him: "She's dead. Nothing we can do." Tyrannized and attacked, dominated by the image, Evan pulls out his camera. It makes total sense, actually: contain the genie, put it back in the bottle. Ray laughs grimly. "Well well well! Who's the sicko in our Humvee now? The psycho-ass jarheads, or the fucking liberal media just looking for a little exploitation?" Evan's ashamed.
Riding behind them, Lilley grins. "Bro, get that dude right there..." Christopher sights the little girl with Lilley's camera, dutifully: "It's not a dude." We're watching video of a video of a little girl, dead, with no legs. That's what we're doing right now. She becomes real. "Hey, Christopher, man, turn it off. Turn the camera off, Bro..." Espera snorts derisively. "So it's a snuff film now?" Lilley's ashamed. We're watching video of a video of a little girl, dead, with no legs. That's what we're doing right now.
Nate's looking through binoculars at something shiny. Maybe it's a weapon. Maybe he and Brad are seeing the same thing, in the same angle of the light, from the same place. "I'm seeing what you see." He nods. It's an enemy encampment. "You and Doc take Christeson and Stafford off my truck. They need some experience." Nate starts to radio in a report to Encino Man, as Brad's gathering his team -- to do recon, if you can imagine such a thing -- but Encino Man chirps back, irritatingly, on comms as he's walking up. "Hitman Two, this is Hitman actual on your six." Nate turns off the radio and stands to meet them.