Anders couldn't help but snicker at her ordeal. Kasumi might be quick, but she could definitely use some more muscle. Last thing he'd need is to get pinned under some debris and she wouldn't be able to help. He gave a small tug on the lever, finding it a bit easier to move now that she had broken down the rust. "Yeah, it's not easy to break through rust. Takes bigger men a lot longer to move something like that." He said encouragingly.
"I prefer disappointing to exciting. When things get exciting, that's a pretty good indicator that everything's going wrong." He mused, leaning on the console. "Besides, we've still got a small walk once we get out of here. No doubt the place will be swarming - you'll get your fix then." He said, glancing over as she started taking potshots as the tram rolled past the few dead that still lingered.
He thought for a moment after her next statement. Logically, they work well together. His rifle's charged with electricity, her spear is as well. She prefers to be alone, especially when on missions like these - and, well, he can still do his job at an extreme distance. And so far, they've never failed. Neither of them have died or got bit, or even been severely injured. "We do pretty good together." He concluded with a smile. "Let's hope that never ends, yeah?"
Anders, too, was studying the somber messages, when Kasumi asked her question.
He said nothing for a moment, biting the end of his lip. "You think - ah, that Pola person found who they were looking for?" He muttered, knowing full well he was dodging the question. Though he wasn't quite sure why. Did he want to seem strong, maybe? Or were the memories now too distant for him to recall? Maybe he knew somewhere within that it was a slim chance he'd see them again. The thoughts didn't bring him to tears, or even sadness. It was an emotion he hated - the feeling of resignation. A lack of hope.
"No point in being an ass about it. I suppose you, out of all the others should get a proper answer." He said, sighing, "Yeah. I miss them. Miss everything that made it so dysfunctional, too. Somehow, it's both better and worse, knowing they're an ocean away. They might be safe, they might not, but chances are I won't see them again. Not like families here, I guess. Some might get a chance to say goodbye. To apologize."
He punctuated this by slamming the throttle up, (even he had to admit the rusty joint was difficult to move) and tugging on the brakes as he saw the exit he had been looking for. If his memory was right, they shouldn't be no more than two or three blocks away. As they pulled up to the terminal, he saw faintly-flickering fluorescent lights and sunlight streaming through the underground entrance.
He unpacked the trio of disks from his bag, and in rapid succession, threw each like a frisbee through the tram's doors. And one by one, each gave a momentary rumble, then started to hover as some unseen number of blades sprouted from within, keeping them aloft by cutting through the air (and likely any flesh it encounters). He then pulled a small device from his bag, and set off with his rifle in the other hand. The three drones hovered around him for a few seconds before disappearing up the steps, heading towards the street.
"Those things will help us find the source of the signal. Meanwhile, we can roast the undead, walk around, and have ourselves a fun time. No need to talk about things we can't change." He said, following the robotic trio up and out.
The street was relatively clear, though the noise of the tram had started to draw the attention of some undead - many of whom were now shambling towards the entrance. He decided to start the day off by bringing his rifle to bear on a small cluster. As he squeezed the trigger, the hair on his head stood up on end. His shoulder was thrown back and sparks erupted from the front as the projectile completely mulched the leading one, and threw back the behind ones in various states of dismemberment.