The sad part was that Sam could almost understand this guy's logic. Not that she agreed with it, of course. She absolutely emphatically didn't. No one who survived the Rain of Fire, who had lost relatives in the Holocaust, could ever possibly condone the slaughter of half of all life. But she could understand it.

Kindred logic, really. Maybe even Predator logic, a fact that she hated.

But Bruce had said it himself. Resources were finite. That's where the logic lay. Cutting down half of the population cut down half of the drain on those resources.

Sam felt a sour taste in her mouth.

She crossed the room, grabbing one of the bottles of murky vodka she'd been stockpiling. "Here," she said, walking back to offer it to Bruce. "Sounds like you could use this."