[Dark Saint Alaick]

When I come out of it, I’m crouched over my would-be assassin’s limp, bloodless body with
the taste of his soul in my mouth. Another body lies dead not far away. I walked over to
examine the corpse. One clean claw slash to the throat. Must have got in the way for some
reason.
I start looking for identification. I open up the wallet and get smacked in the face with a police
badge.
I can’t win.
I drag both bodies back into the club.
“What happened to your shirt?” asks Martin. “Did it hurt?”
“Yes, Martin. It hurt like hell. I got shot with phosphorous rounds. Does that make you
happy?”
“Only if there are rounds left for me.”“You have issues,” I say as I walk past him dragging the bodies.
I throw them in a corner of the storage room.