Hunger Turns to Greed (open)

[claus]

I got some bad news this morning
Which in turn made my day
When this someone spoke I listened
All of a sudden, has less and less to say
Ohhhhhh how could this be?
All this time, I've lived vicariously

The rich, soul filled, voice of an american singer inked through the backdoor of the small music joint tucked away in the west end, hidden from the rest of the city. The only two ways you found this place where you where invited by a friend to it or you wandered in on it, but you almost never drove by and said 'hey, lets check that place out, it looks fun and interesting!' the reason for this is becasue the outside of it looks like an abandoned building. As does the inside. Barren and without any sign of furniture or life, you would mistake it for some kind of home for stray junkies and drug dealers almost instantly. Infact, your only hint that there was some kind of life would be the drifting sound of music that found its way out of the door to the cellar. If you happened to find your way down that door you would find a surprisingly large basement, much larger than the rest of the small building. The basement is packed with people, and music, and smoke, and sound, it's refered to as The Shack, and for those who where invited, or who stumbled upon it, it is very well loved.

"Who's gonna save my soul now?
Who's gonna save my soul now?
Who's gonna save my soul?"

Unfortunatly, Claus wasn't interested in the night life, he was one of those kinds of people who stumbled upon The Shack. Yes, Claus had discovered this particular place while he was stalking prey. A woman, tall and thin and pale as the moonlight, Claus had at first mistaken her for a fellow vampire, but upon closer inspection, he found he could hear her heart beat. Deffinetly not a vampire. Claus had decided she would be his victim tonight. So the Vampire followed her to the Shack and suddenly pounced. He was drinking her from her forearm, she was unconcious from his attack, and free for him to eat. A free meal.

And maybe it's a little selfish
All I have is the memory
Yet I never stopped to wonder-ahhhhh
Was it possible you were hurtin worse than me
Still my hunger turns to greed
Cause what about what I need?!

Claus had finished drinking her. He stood up and wiped a thin stream of blood from his chin. He glanced around. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit, standing in the center of a cold, lonely, alley, next to a bleeding girl. He didn't bother to tend to her wounds, but instead moved towards the sound of the music, drawn by it's tantalizing melody. When he found the door, he was mildly surprised, and very amused. The place was dim, the singer heavy set and black, the people of the bar spoke softly, a few laughs, a few yells. This was mellow atmosphere, it would do well for Claus.

The vampire walked to a seat at the bar, he sat down and took a quick look around. Open seats all around him, he'd distanced himself from the other people. He wasn't particularly thirsty, he had already had his drink for tonight in that alley outside, no, right now he just wanted the music.

[murazar]

Murazar for some odd reason entered china town... Ok maybe not quite that odd, he had a contract assassination here. On top of that he had already fulfilled it and quietly as usual. Which was generally why people called him for hits, they wanted it quiet. If they didn't in his opinion any other idiot would do.

For now he was heading to The Shack, for some reason it was called that. Only reason why he was headed there was because his target was heading there. He had of course drove by it, walked by it, talked to it with people who had been there. He never actually went inside however. For now he entered.

He quickly came to a door with music thats was starting to get too loud normally for him. This is why I don't stay long at clubs without a good reason. He grimaced for a moment before composing himself... Ok composing himself as much as a person who looked like a thug wearing a leather jacket and jeans. Both faded out and him looking like he's about to kill you at any moment.

He opened the door and walked inside, closing it he looked around discreetly. For a moment he thought he saw someone he knew. He walked into and through a crowd of people before realizing who it was. The ugly? The guy from south america who tried to steal my job? Interesting at least.

The ugly in his only experience of him, was a simple hit that turned complicated. Murazar began it, until his clients complicated it and then sent in the ugly. They met briefly twice, the first time to simply recognize each other and stay out of each others way. The second time was at the end when neither of them finished their respective jobs.

The hit went south so to speak, despite that they left on partially friendly as friendly as rival assassins with no reason to kill each other get/partially what most people called rival-like terms. He was sure the man had seen him, probably remembered him by now, if not he would soon.

He walked over to the bar and paid for two glasses of expensive cognac, which he was mildly surprised they even had a bottle to fill two glasses with. He popped three ice cubes in his to simply give it a sort of classy look. As if he would waste too much money on getting drunk of good alcohol. Then he walked over making sure he stood in plain view of the ugly and spoke politely, as usual to him as he stood at the table.

"You wouldn't mind if I sat here with you, would you?" He put a faked grin behind the words. Of course it was only half faked like anything he did. Plus it really didn't matter, the only reason the ugly could see through it was because of his reputation. Good thing he only knows me as The Fox. Too bad I only know him as The Ugly.

[claus]

A figure entering the bar caught Claus's attention. He recognized the way the man walked. Killers held themselves a certian way when they walked, it was something they did sub conciously. Although if someone realy wanted to conceal who they where they could learn to change their stepping patterns. Claus focused in on the hit man who he knew only as 'the fox'. Claus had been assigned a hit on some noble do gooder who pissed off the wrong kind of people. Apparently Claus's clients didn't think one hitman would be enough for their target. Which was rediculous. They wanted a small army, not a precise killer. The two hitmen's plots had interfered with one another, things got complicated, and by the end of the job, both men where out of luck. Claus realy shouldn't have been there, something like that was a one man job. It was unneccisary and dangerous for there to be two people trying to kill him.

So now, a few years later, sitting at the bar of The Shack, watching a old rival walk through the door, the first thing that came to Claus's mind was. 'You'll need a gun.' Claus did a quick mental scan over what he had on him. He had piano wire in his shoe, his custom club, his knife, his desert eagle, and his browning. Not quite armed to the teeth, but close enough. He shifted in his seat, as if turning slightly to get a better look at the man who had entered. In reality he'd just pulled his gun out from his side, and was now keeping it tightly pointed at the Fox through his coat's side. He wasn't exactly unfriendly towards the other assassin, he just wasn't taking any chances here. He watched closley as the bartender made the drink that he knew would be for him. His eyes never left those glasses for an instant. He wouldn't be one of those guys who was killed because of poisoned drink.

The fellow killer approached him with both drinks and threw a smile that Claus didn't think suited him very well. It didn't exactly seem... sincere. Not that Claus blamed him. In a professional sense of the word, Claus and Fox where 'rivals'. They weren't exactly enemies, but they weren't very tight allies either. A certian sense of neutrality laced their relationship. As the man spoke, Claus flashed a white smile back and nodded as he replied.

"Certianly not. Have a seat."

He said keeping his hand tight on the gun, but his arm loose to not give himself away, he was bent over the bar in a way that would keep his gun hidden from anyone who wasn't looking under his jacket.

[murazar]

Murazar held the smile as he sat down, his eye flickered to his hand below the table. The action was mean't to be seen, he of course positioned himself where what he figured was the general area the pistol could be aimed. He didn't pull out his own weaponry however.

After all this wasn't a job or anything after all, there was no point in killing Mr. Ugly. Or trying to, more than likely they would both get away, heal, and track each other down if something was started here. The publicity wouldn't be welcome either if either were being tracked by the police force.

He toned his voice down so him and his 'friend' could hear each other and no one else. At least no one else listening in through all the damn noise anyway. He kept the smile and polite voice, his tone quite calm. "Now, considering both hands are not on the table." He held up his glass and sipped while his other hand seemed quite ready to flip himself using the bar table. He continued.

" Then I assume that your pointing at me. You don't have to, i'll keep my hands in sight." His voice was sincere, even if he was lying he'd probably sound the same. He was fully prepared to start a miniture war if it came down to it, he had a grenade on hand, his silenced .45, a billy club, and a large rambo styled knife. All of it concealed, all of it easily reachable except for the grenade.

He was still trying to figure out what to call him, calling him Mr Ugly would sound like a insult to bystanders and if anyone heard they would probably be either baked or wasted and want to see a fight. Plus someone out of these idiots might recognize the alias of Mr. Ugly's. Which would make it seem as if the two heaviest freelance hitters were working together. Which mean't alot of money was involved.

[claus]

The Fox sat down, beginning to speak. He had already caught on to Claus's gun under the table. Claus's tounge rubbed over his left fang, his head slightly cocked, this was his thinking face. Fox was explaining that he'd behave so long as Claus behaved. The Ugly let out a light chuckle.

"Hah, no use to hiding it to someone as attentive as yourself huh?"

Nope, Fox never missed a detail, Claus was foolish to think he could point a gun and not have it seen. He holstered his gun into his and the cow will circle the mooooon! pocket and put his hands on the table, taking the second drink that had just been brought. He wasn't particularly thirsty, but it would be rude of him to object to a drink that was bought for him. He took a swallow and put it back down. He looked over to the assassin and spoke with a nod.

"Alright, well, I suppose I should probobly introduse me'self a bit more clearly. My name is Claus Siber. I just got back into London this week, haven't been home in quite some time. Its nice to see a familiar face."

Claus was sincere when he said that he was clad to see someone he knew. The Ugly had no problem on his own, he could take solitutde just fine, a social life wasn't something he required. However, when you had just landed in a city that youd been distant from for as long as Claus had, it helped to have someone who could fill you in on everything that you'd missed. There was only so much that passing clients and targets and newspapers could tell you. It helped to talk to someone you knew. Even if your actual knowledge of the said person was so sketchy that you didn't even know their name.

"So then, what may I ask is your name Mr... fox?"

Claus never kept in contact with any other professionals, although he'd met more than a few in his carreer. Too many of them where dangerous, if you got to close to one hitman, another one got a bit uncomfortable about that and sent someone after you, and there was nothing quite as complicated as being an assasin hunted by assassins. It wasn't something you would want to try. It either resulted in a lot of people dead, or only one. And you deffinetly didn't want it to be only one, as that 'one' would probobly be you.

"What can I do you for? I must say, I didn't expect to see you of all people in a place like this."

Claus didnt know much about The Fox, but he did know he didn't like these kinds of places. Which meant he was probobly here on a job. Claus hoped the job wasn't him.

[murazar]

Murazar kept the smile frozen on his face; you definitely couldn't fool a assassin even if you were one. He'd been in the trade just a bit longer than Mr. Siber was probably. He replied softly, his Italian accent sticking out. "Always good to see familiar people or places. "

He kept his peripheral vision rotating the room discreetly. Being alive this long in this trade meant you were as good as a any of the spies in the intelligence agencies. If not better since they were alive. He took special delight in being better than Mossad of Israel. They in his opinion were on par with the old KGB before he was born.

Despite Siber giving him his name, Murazar could more than likely get away with just sticking to fox. It was his middle name, and his full name was erased from most records except his obituary in America. He answered politely," Fox is fine. It is part of my name. The rest you would never find anything." A half challenge, friendly one. The other half the simple truth.

He liked his name private as possible until he found enough people to trust with it. Otherwise it was absolutely pointless. He always found it hard to trust people though. For now he trusted Siber enough to not start a war without a good reason. Murazar grinned inwardly at the next question. No he did not like places like this.

He answered the question with a slight chuckle." Quite right. I had a job earlier and this place seemed like a good place to rest. Better at least than most of Chinatown places." True enough, anything that looked honest wasn't, and anything that didn't like this place was for people like him. His smile remained polite despite the humor. He took another sip from his glass.

[claus]

"Hmm. Good point."

Claus wasn't smiling politely as Velupe was. Althoguh he did wear an interested, tightly spread, increidbly thin, grin that was found to be quite customary to Claus's face. It meant he was enjoying himself, it meant no ill will. Claus wasn't making an attempt to be rude by not smiling like Velupe was, but rather a sign of respect that he wouldn't show a false smile. Not that he took Fox's smile as rude. Claus chuckled lightly as Fox withheld his name, Claus took another drink. Claus had no problem with people knowing his name, they'd find nothing that they needed to blackmail him or anything quite like that. He had no intricate background, or anything you could use to blackmail him. Although if you did find something, he'd probobly just cut your throat and be done with it.

"I suppose that'll do Mr. Fox."

Names where useless anyways. Whoever Fox realy was, he was quite like Claus in the fact that no amount of names or DNA evidence would realy harm him. Being tracked by your DNA or by your name was only frightening to those who lived within the confinds of the law, and claus couldn't see either of them in a court house. No, Claus would bet his bottom dollar that if any form of government caught either of them, there would be no trial. They'd simply be put into the deepest, darkest, hole in the world, and then killed as soon as possible.

"I must say, I'm not one for club scenes. Bright lights and loud music isn't realy something our kind will ever be used to. But I believe I can stand this place because it's a bit of a change of pace. The lights are dim enough for all kinds of creatures to see, the music is modest and calm, its all soulful and scereen. I mean, the loudest sound besides the singer is glass hitting table."

He dropped his own glass on the table, it let out a semi-loud clinking sound as if to prove his point, it was almost loud enough to catch people's attention.

"And I have never hated any environment more in my entire life."

That was the punchline. This place sucked. Claus walked in, drawn to the room's mystical sense of calm, but now that he was here, he realised he hated this feeling. He'd come to London to escape his problems in South America, but not to be bored, not to retire. These where his first few days back in his home town, he should be setting up connections and meeting people who can help him get new clients. Not sipping stylish drinks next to one of the world's most notorious hitmen.

Christ.

What Claus wouldn't do for that singer to randomly throw a grenade and lighten things up.

[murazar]

Murazar nodded once to the statement, his name as La Valupe meant him. It was a personification of him; he’d have no one else call him by anything else unless they knew him by the past. Then he wouldn’t mind so much. His memory went back for a moment back to a hit in Italy; he had whacked an entire upper chain of command of the family in one instant at a meeting in a club like this. Bunch of fools, they had forgot his rules of payment. No one pays, no one but they die. You pay, someone dies. Normally the target.

He nodded to the comment; the place was a change of pace. He however preferred the old rock music he listened to back in the day. He didn’t mind calming, but this place was not using classical music. It had no class, no real style. He spoke softly,” True enough. No class here, no nothing except alcohol and weak people…” He trailed off before looking around less discreetly for a moment. He pretended to be searching for someone. It was better to look like you were doing something than you really were and he couldn’t see everyone in his peripheral vision.

He replied to the last comment with a devilish grin; it was not one of sanity that was for sure. Maybe he was getting hungry? “Maybe we could show them how to have a good time? One entrance, one exit. We could sit there and cause a real nice party. If you want, we’d have no witnesses of course.” Of course they’d burn the place down with the alcohol; to top it off everyone would have a slit throat with a knife in a cupboard. Burning one Chinese traffic garbage hole was a heck of a deed. Plus it might tick off the richer werewolf neighbors if the Chinese retaliate.

[claus]

Now this was an interesting proposal. Go to town in here, slaughter the lot of them. Couldn't be more than 10 or 15 of them, Claus had killed more than that at one time. He was quite certian they where all humans, but he wasn't totaly certian. Why not? What was there to lose here? No witnesses, this place was so tucked away no one would notice you leave or enter, with their combined efforts, no one would be able to leave, they'd all just die. Some nice chaos, a grenade thrown, shots fired, brains sprayed, a symphony of gore. Claus could feel that slight drive of adrenaline creeping up his spine like a poison flooding his veins. He felt a certian bloodlust stir in him.

And then it vanished with a swift push from logic.

"Nah."

Claus said, taking another drink. He liftede the glass, sliding the drink down his throat, but left it in his hand, his chin resting softly against his wrist, smelling the drink.

"I already ate today, not hungry. Besides, too much effort for no money. Not to mention, every weak bastard without the guts to lift a gun is a potential client of mine."

It made no sense to go on a rampage now. He wasn't some drugged up lunatic, although he was more than a little crazy, he wasn't the kind of freak who killed without money. Thats how sloppy killers where made, and it wasn't how professionals acted. He killed when it made sense to, that meant where there was money on the line, or his life. But he had enough self restraint to keep himself from masacaring everyone. Thats what seperated good killers, from worthless killers: discipline. And besides, he didn't hold much trust for Velupe. This could very well be some kind of trick or test set up to either put him away for a long time, or get him killed. Either way, Claus wouldn't be the reason a shootout was started.

"Dont get me wrong, I've no love for anyone in here. Hell, i've only been in town for a few days. But I dont kill for no reason. Got to be some sort of reward for Claus to chip in."

Yes, it was all about the money in the end. Although not so much for Claus as he led people ot believe. What did he need so much money for? Especially with a life as long as his. No. Being a hit man was just what he was good at, not to mention it had some great kicks. Not that Claus objected to getting paid.

[murazar]

He grinned, it was something not restrained and only lasted for a moment. He replied calmly with a hint of happiness, however insane it sounded.” Good, at least I know there is one person in this city that isn’t unprofessional. Now that would make me sad. You hesitated long enough to consider it, but replied correctly enough to hide what your personal thoughts are. To most people, it’s too easy to pick out similarities among people.”

He paused before calming his energetic self down, it’d do him no good to get carried away. He looked momentarily, beyond taking the couple of twenties and some really good alcohol it would really do them no good. However if any of them showed any signs of possible aggression he’d either leave or end it quickly. Trouble was never good, except for his kind. They got paid for ending trouble.

He took another sip; his glass was almost half empty. He smiled politely again, control yet again in place of himself. “I wonder what it feels like to be a werewolf. All that fur must come with lice.” An idle curious question. Albeit a understandable one, which depended on what view you looked at it from. Simply put he wondered only because he was ADD.

He didn’t bother to look behind him as he felt a singular heartbeat enter the room, however he almost looked when he felt several heartbeats lined up like a SWAT team from America. He spoke softly,” Looks like company. Hopefully it’s just a drug bust and nothing special, wanna shoot it out or sneak out if we can?”

If they shot their way out from behind the bar they could make it, if they snuck out they may not make it unless they quietly and quickly take one of the guys in the way out. Once they got outside the room they’d have to take a back way out to avoid any back-up these guys had. For now he left the choice up to Claus, he was gonna split up with him after they got out of this room anyway. They’d each create a valuable diversion so neither would take the chance of taking the other down if that led to their own demise.
{OOC: sorry for spicing it up, but I figured it’d be fun to do so anyway.}

[claus]

He laughed slightly, taking another sip of his drink when Valupe confirmed that it had been a bit of a test. Claus was slightly aware by now of heartbeats approaching, he smelled gasoline, and he got that cold, gripping, hole in the pit of his stomach that told him to be careful, he was in danger.

"I wont lie, I thought of it for a moment, it was tempting."

He said as he suddenly became aware of more heartbeats, approaching from the backdoor. More gasoline, and now the sound of foot steps that where trying too hard to be quiet. Claus could tell by the look on Fox's face that he had noticed them as well.

"To be a werewolf? Ballocks. It probobly sucks. All itchy and hairy and large, they couldn't fit through most bunker doors, and to top it off well learned vampires are stronger than them. No way. Being a werewolf would be terrible."

Claus hadn't mentioned the approaching heartbeats until Fox had. He nodded, digging about his pockets for his weapons, making sure everything was in place. They weren't with Fox which meant it was time to do some killing.

"They sound unprofessional, too noisy, and they're carrying gasoline, they're probobly just some small time gang, They're coming out of both doors, I wouldn't try sneaking. I say we use a bit of force and break out the back."

He was sliding his knife into the sheath he had on his back, putting his club into the pocket on his chest, adjusting the piano wire so that he could pull it from his thigh at a moments notice, and putting the two guns into his and the cow will circle the mooooon! holsters. He prepared himself, they where all at the doors now, they where getting ready to bust in, Claus could feel it. He turned so that his back was to the bar, and he was facing the empty table behind them. He spoke to Fox while keeping his eyes on the back door.

"The back door looks like the clearest path, we might have to get into some close combat, this isn't exactly a spacious area, they sent way too many people for this, I'm hearing at least 6 on the back door alone. I say we clear a path, and make it out the back."

Something told him the time was now. He lashed out with a kick at the table, topling it over, just as men wearing dark colors, all with black ski masks hiding their faces, busted in, guns blazing. A quick spray of bullets landed against the overturned table. Claus's timing had been good, if the table had been up Claus would have had some led in his side. Claus was already down, taking cover behind the table, he pulled the desert eagle. He leaned out from the side of the table, firing two rounds and taking down one of the gunners, blood and brain met wall.

"Watch the other door, they should be in any second."

[murazar]

Well if he had smelt through the booze and sweat he’d probably have realized it was gasoline he would have realized it was a small time thing. Even so his nose was the worst out of all his senses, when he was human he couldn’t smell hardly anything unless it was extremely powerful.

He adjusted his pistol to his side where his left arm could get it, the Billy club was left where it was, the large knife was upside down on his chest just behind his jacket, and the grenade held in his hand. He unpeeled the pin and chunks it just over the table as Siber flipped it.

Of course that wouldn’t clear them all out, maybe half and destroy the area there making it insanely unstable; but hey why not have some chaos? He grinned pulling the pistol and knife out balancing his left hand with the pistol over the right with the knife pointed away from him. He created a balance with his right arm.

He turned to the back door and gave a small nod to Siber if he looked in his direction before taking cover next to him. The second group busted in after hearing the grenade explode. He took two shots, one hitting a man’s neck making him drop and clutch his throat. The other hit a man’s gun, despite him not letting go it shot up the crowd of people making them scatter further. Most ran in front of Siber and him creating cover.

He tapped Sibers shoulder pointing quickly to the other side of the room which wasn’t too far at an overturned table with a couple of bodies on it providing better cover. It was also closer to the back door and although it might have been in their best interest to go through the front some idiot spilled the gasoline and started a fire there which was slowly consuming the current room and already destroyed the stairs.

He headed over grabbing a person as a shield before the people turned around just in time to get knocked down by a hail of machine gun fire. His call was a good one as his shield turned into Swiss cheese just as he made it to the other side. He provided some cover fire managing to take out another guy but spending half his clip through the people.

[claus]

Grenade. Gas. Explosion. Fire. Bullets. Meat. Blood. Thud. Scream. This once modest bar had just turned into a battlefield. Claus was still poking out from behind his possision, firing in short two round bursts from the large desert eagle. The high caliber gun sent people off the ground and into walls, it squished brains into bloody goo, and elimanted pulses in the blink of an eye. Guns where such wonderful things. You pulled the trigger and someone stopped attacking. You didnt need to feel them die, you didn't even need to get blood on your hands. It was just that easy.

Claus followed Valupe's line of sight, they would need to make their way across the room. The Fox chose a human shield. The Ugly had other plans. Claus had now crossed mind sets into the realm of the Ugly, he was now his efficient, rutheless self. And to top it all off, he had fed not long ago, he was in tip top condition. He took off down the isle, staying low to avoid cover, he moved with extreme speed and rather surpising grace, pushing several people infront of him as a shield, using tables as well. His run was working perfectly when suddenly he was tackled from behind. Some unfortunate soul who had lost his weapon in the sudden mahem had tackled him down, Claus hadn't noticed him in all the comotion. He had something in his hand and was attempting to plunge it right at Claus's eye, whatever it was it was sharp and long, it resembled a spike of some kind. Not that it mattered what it was, the point was that it was sharp, and currently stabbing at Claus's eye.

Claus swiped something out of his jacket pocket as he held back the man's knife arm. Claus was much stronger than him, and easily turned him over, he suddenly swung with his free arm, his club meeting the man's fore head the second he had leverage. His attacker was unconcious, Claus quickly put a round in his chest from the Deagle that he'd holstered before his run earlier, and then quickly rolled to cover next to valupe, narrowly escaping a spray of bullets.

Claus was looking for his next point of motion, when suddenly bullets tore through the table, someone was firing a pump shotgun at them, but given the spread of the shot, Claus could tell they where too far to use that gun effectivly. They'd have to get a little closer. Claus peaked out around the corner and fired a round into the approaching man's chest, sending him onto the floor. He let out three more rounds, gunning down three more people. But on his next pull of his trigger, his clip was empty. He frowned and holstered the large gun, pulling out his baretta. He had more magzines, but feared the time it would take to reload. Their cover wasn't quite sufficent.

The ugly motioned to Velupe that they should make their way to the stage, it was close to the door, and the large amplifiers and speakers could be used for some effective cover.

[murazar]

Murazar took three cover shots. He had two bullets left after checking the weight for a moment. He grinned fiercely as he looked at the ugly, then the stage, then back again and nodded. His adreneline was pumping, it made him feel invincible! It was probably the only addictive thing he liked, however he liked being calm more than crazily high on adreneline.

He looked around a bucket of paint was next to the wall he was at he took two blind fired potshots as he ran over and grabbed it and went back into cover. He took a quickly aimed shot at a guy who just looked out of cover and forced him back into it. He reloaded quickly and used his left hand to rip a hole into the can before spilling it in a somewhat straightish line to the stage speakers.

He then charged standing at full height toward the paint and quickly pulled his feet from under him. The desired effect was half of what he had expected, the other half not so much. You see while paint is a liquid and pretty good for the idea he came up with it still was not like water or anything cleaner.

He ended up hitting his knee on a nearby table, ignoring the slight pain through the fire in his veins he could see the four or so other people left. He took a few shots, one of them found its target and went through the mans fingers. He simply screamed and stood up accidently, murazar took another shot blowing his gray matter all over the walls behind him. The husk dropped as he hit another table and span out of control.

He managed to get out of his jacket and tumble behind the speakers. Not the most graceful or orthodox method, but it then again war had no rules. He had came up with a quck unorthodox method that had confused his opponents who were clearly not even close to the best. He grinned wildly as he let out a shriek that was animalistic completely unnatural. He felt so alive at being in a warzone, he was still in control over himself and still was using every inch of his skills, training, creativeness, and experience to win. It was a very enjoyable experience.