He was stranded in the empty desert, with nothing but a pack of cigarettes, his massive cross, and his ex.

He puffed on those cursed cigs like his life depended on it - one after the other without a break, until the entire pack would soon be absorbed by his crippled lungs. If it wasn't for his genetic enhancement, he would have succumbed to lung cancer years ago.

He grunted, "You can stop with the side glances now," he muttered, lighting up another damn cigarette. Not like he cared anyway.