Punani Dasani [WAP vs Mechabytes Day 2]

[Tom]

Our life once was behind a plane of glass, performing for the small humans in the city. Smiles upon their lips, laughter in their noise, and joy building from the chaos. Our home was comfortable. We were well fed. Born to give laughter to a world where there was none. Small humans coming back again and again to see us. My brothers, Bevel and Pinion, we've grown to love their company. Built a bond from seeing which of us could make them laugh the loudest in amusement. The small humans weren't the only ones we saw. The strange master would come to see us every week or so. Stern eyes and steady hands, pouring over the sound of gears clicking and the fibers of our being. He would smile, whisper commands to us, watch us, and then feed us before leaving.

Every day, we were safe. We were fed. We were happy. Nothing stays the same forever. The home we once had was taken from us. The strange master commanding us into metal cells, where he speaks loudly to another. A smile upon his lips like the small humans. The building of trust as we stared into his eyes, begging for freedom, but we were never given it. Instead, we were tested for our strengths. Machines to see our speed, or strength, our endurance. We were built to last and last we did. Agility, speed, strength, all of them were apart of our gears. We were taught to race for the small humans, but now, our strange master and a few others did something. Injected us with some device and we were free.

Free into a land we did not know.

Ravaged by a sickly feeling, gears grinding with the sun, and a metallic taste upon our tongues. There were no small humans here. Alone, in the unknown, we stand. A pack together, with my brothers. We stand through the empty land where spikes rise and stone stands. We march through a land torn by the unknown, familiarizing ourselves with the metallic taste and the sickly feeling in our metal and flesh. We spend a day traveling through emptiness, starving, energetic, and looking for a way out.

It never comes.

We are doomed in this land.

Or we were, until a group of humans stumble into our land. Our territory that we've claimed. We've got no more tricks to perform. No food to survive. No small humans to entertain. We're a pack, alone in this unforgiving place. The sickness in our stomach growls. The sound of gears grinding and our fierce growl as Pinion and Bevel move around the group. Teeth flared with an anger, we have to survive. Our strange master would find us. One day, we'd be back to doing tricks.

Today, we feast on the flesh of the humans here.

It's the only food we have for miles.

(Spur attacks Syren Steele; teeth/knife)
t0Cvgk01rcknife
(Deep Gash on Right Bicep 8.0)

(Bevel attacks Castor Fosse; teeth/knife)
knife
(Two Severed Fingers on Left Hand 9.0)

(Pinion attacks Sin Mortuus; teeth/knife)
knife
(Deep Gash on Right Thigh 8.0)

knife·knife·knife

[Deleted]

---

Wip filler gay bitch bc capitalism

> makes makeshift pillow cases out of hazmat scraps
> let’s Syren take first watch, sleeps next to Sin & Castor for Comfort yknow
> kisses castor’s forehead, says sin did it
> sleeps like a baby

> no anthem, they get moving again
> sore muscles from endurance. Wakes up well rested like a queen does
> walkie talkie with kyler here
> writes in her gay little journal before everybody is ready to start exploring
> let’s sin lead, it’ll be good for the economy
> talks shit with Syren until they walk into fuckin gay ass mutts

”Okay,” so this is who she’s trusting her life with. No beauty sleep, no pillow cases or even pillows at this point, ”let’s not all jump head first into the goddamn murder mutts.” Lore pulls up from behind, Castor and Sin walking head first into what seemed to be a litter’s lair. Three bitches dig into three of Lore’s bitches- she spins the round of the revolver without hesitating.

She takes her aim, picturing Silk’s head on that dog. It’s almost fitting.

”This is how you put down a mutt, boys.”

[shoots bevel]
92VHkZ_EHu200+9000
[9029 -- Knife Deep in Calf -- 8.5 damage + 1 target practice]

”Oh and Castor, try not to shoot anyone’s eye out.”

200+9000

[tick 12a / calla]

► ► ►

He nods off after Syren and Lore find them. Maybe that's stupid, or dangerous, or whatever, but Castor and Sin had been walking all day, and they ran for some of that, and that was enough to tire him out. So the four of them make camp, and Cas uses his foot to kick some of the glass away. He pulls on Sin's hand until he sits down with him, and then doesn't let him get back up again.

The music is what finally makes him realize he fell asleep, and when he first hears it it's like he's back home for a minute. It's like he's in bed, on some lazy weekend morning, where he'd slowly wake up to the sound of someone playing an old guitar down the street, or to the sound of the Capitol radio coming through the tinny little speaker on the windowsill.

But it's louder now, all around him in surround-sound and his face is pressed against rough fabric instead of bedsheets. He's stiflingly warm, and the fabric beneath him is breathing and the memories from the last twenty-four hours filter back to him lazily. He feels like he should be panicking, but his blood is sluggish and his head feels foggy; the beginnings of a migraine forming somewhere in his skull.

He shuffles a little against the ground, coming to awareness slowly when something presses against his forehead. It's quick, and his sleepy brain barely recognizes it for what it is, "Who?" He stifles a yawn halfway through, "Who did that?"

"Sin did. Duh." And that's Lore he thinks, but he doesn't know her voice as well yet.

Castor realizes then, very suddenly, that the warm breathing thing he had been lying on was Sin. He pushes his fist against what must be his thigh and tries not to look embarrassed, huffs and starts to rolls over. Then someone is nudging him, slipping something soft under his head and he slides off of Sin to lie on the ground instead.

He still reaches for his hand though, and lets out a breath when he finds it. He takes Sin's finger and sets it on his palm, "Tap once for every face, okay?" Because the anthem is still playing, and that means the dead tributes will be up there soon.

But Castor waits and Sin's finger doesn't move. It just sits there, pushing down on the centre of his hand and Cas tries not to think about what that means for the next day.

He falls back asleep quickly, Sin's hand still clasped in his own.

The morning is quiet, and Cas tries to fill the silence when they pack up and start walking. He tells Sin about his piano, and he tells him about how one of the stairs back home always creaked so he knew when someone was going down them. He rambled about the bakery on the corner of his street and the stern old woman who worked there. Every topic was just meaningless filler, but it felt good. It was distracting.

That's probably why he doesn't hear it at first - a low mechanical humming sound. He doesn't notice it until it's risen to a growl.

And he swears that he only let's go of Sin for a split second, just long enough to fumble with his weapon, but a second turns out to be just long enough. There's a blinding red hot pain in his hand that he can't understand, and he reaches for it instinctively, bringing his hand up to his chest and screaming through what feels like fire but when he pushes his other hand against where the pain is to try and soothe it there's nothing there except a sticky mess of liquid and it makes him call out for Sin and Syren instinctively and the panic sets in and he can't breathe he can't see it he doesn't know what happened all he knows is that it hurts-

A gunshot echos from behind him and he flinches away from it, jostling his hand again and he gasps from the feeling, "try not to shoot anyone’s eye out.”

"M'a little busy." God it burns.

But he knows he has to at least try, so he tries to get a grip on the handle, tries not to let his good hand slip and slide too much and he tries not to think about how that's probably blood, it's probably his blood all over the gun,. He tries to listen for that low growl again, tries to make out any kind of shadow, and he shoots.

castor attacks bevel | revolver
8DASa49Qzkthrowing knife
miss -- 0.0 damage

accuracy day 2
throwing knife
miss (bullet lost) -- 0.0 damage

throwing knife·throwing knife

[gamemaker kelsier]

s i n .

"you are weak
but not foolish
you have learned
how to die."

He hadn't realized how exhausted he'd been until relief had liquified him at the sight of Lore and Syren walking towards them over the glassy hills. It'd bent him over double until Castor was taller than him and little shards of glass were pressing into his knees.

He waited like that, forehead propped up against Castor's thigh. It was useful, him standing there, even though his legs shook with exhaustion too. They were together there in silence for a while, Sin alert for anyone but the girl's approach. He couldn't let go of Castor's hand, his fingers had locked themselves within his grasp. It was nice to be entwined, it was safe.

They set up camp altogether, Sin bent over dry logs with his box of matches. In the winter, at home, it'd always been his job to keep the fires going in the hospital hearths. Sleeping in shifts had come in handy then, he'd gotten good at sleeping light. It'd always been a little sharp, dragging himself out from under his bench at four in the morning to keep the Mortuus sisters warm.

For Castor, he didn't mind.

Sin sat beside Castor, knees to his chest. He stared at the fire until his eyes stung, unable to move because Castor was using his shoulder as a pillow. He'd always been alright at sleeping sitting up, Sin just didn't want to move suddenly and let Castor fall onto the glass. He could tell that Castor was soft, not because of his blindness but because he just was.

He touched him as if he were something precious instead of Sin Mortuus, hollow and ignored.

So if one of them was going to get cut, it'd be Sin.

Sometime in the evening, Lore had tossed a pillow at his face, made from the crinkling remains of one of the yellow suits they'd found before. When Sin had shown Syren the bottle of pills he'd found earlier, they'd all put one on. It made it harder to hold Castor's hand, the gloves were too big.

He'd laid back then and pulled Castor onto his chest to save him from the glass shards covering the ground. If he lay still enough, the shards didn't move. He could get some restless kind of sleep at least and that was good enough.

It's the voices that wake him first, Castor and Lore speaking, and Cas pushing into his body, pushing his back into the glass. He opens his mouth a little, a stifled gasp of pain inaudible against the sound of the anthem. He's still half-asleep, fighting to keep his eyes open when Castor presses his palm into his thumb. There's heat there, between their skin, Sin wraps his hand around it, cupping it against the wind on their spot between glass mountains.

He hears the instructions and does his best to follow them but his forehead falls against Castor's knee, he can't keep his eyes open anymore. He sleeps again, form wrapped carefully around Castor's in the dark.

In the morning, he takes Castor with him to pee. They crunch away from the girls across the glass together and Sin watches for an attack but none comes then. He's still tense while they pack up camp, antsy as they walk, headed South.

Sin leads the way and he supposes that makes sense. If there are any traps, he'll spring them.

Castor's got energy again, voice almost cheerful as he talks about home. Sin listens, hanging off of every word. Cas's life isn't perfect, he's been sick for most of it, but he has a bedroom and a twin brother. He's got a mom and a dad who love him and a bakery he's allowed to get pastries from. There's a dog he pets sometimes and he plays the piano and Sin, when he shuts his eyes for a moment, can almost see it.

He can pretend that's where they are instead.

And he doesn't know why he's hurting himself like this in the few days that they have. He doesn't know why he thought it would be okay to become reliant on a boy whose going to die, but he could ask Castor the same.

He's trying to figure out how to when the mutts surprise them around a bend in their path. Sin's still for a moment, eyes on all three trying to remember what Saylor had told him about animals only a week ago. He's too slow though, Castor slips from his grasp and Sin reaches for his gun, taking a step back even as one of the mutts sinks its teeth into his thigh.

The pain is instant, white-hot and burning a line through his flesh with a jagged pull. He grits his teeth, a hand wrapping over his leg as if to hold the flaps of his skin together.

Sin reaches his other hand out to grab the mutt by the scruff of its neck. It's nearly the same size as him but it doesn't stop Sin from wrapping an arm around its neck to hold it in place. Then he presses the butt of his gun against the side of its head.

And he shoots.

[sin attacks pinion]
E9UZERx9GKthrowing knife
[x]

throwing knife

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

ya girl didn't know it was her turn til a few hours ago oop! quick filler and i'll fill this in sometime tomorrow

- ouch her bicep hurted
- syren shook asf watching sin make that insta
- glances at lore briefly
- "He's showing us how it's done now," she remarks through gritted death (a sister in pain) before attacking the mutt

[syren attacks spur; spear]
b4RD6l9llwspear
[3147 -- Shallow Cut on Cheek -- 3.5 damage]

spear

[Tom]

We taste their blood, metallic teeth ripping flesh from their bodies. We watch Bevel growl in satisfaction. Pinion howls back with hunger. We know this is our only chance to feed our starving bellies. There's no tricks here. No escapes back to the strange master. No small humans to run races for or do agility tricks or even beg for food. All that's out here are spikes, disappointment, and the sickly feeling along our flesh. It's a rotting feeling. A breaking feeling. There's a desire for flesh in our metal teeth. The taste of meat making our stomach growl louder and louder. We all bark angrily. Pushing forward hard, leaving no room for escape, but it's the first mistake we've made as a pack.

Bang!

The first shot rings out. An explosion of something metallic echoing as it rips through Bevel's leg. A whine coming from our throats, we can feel the pain. We've known each other long enough to know what it looks like. What the pain feels like. Bevel's leg is mangled, broken beyond repair, but the pack must survive. Bevel growls between whimpers, pushes through the pain. Strange master would have been proud of us. Strange master had to be watching us. Once we feast, strange master would give us a treat and take us back to the glass window and the small children. It's the only thought that keeps us going.

Bang!

We see the second one coming. Bevel limbering out of the way, barking louder towards the boy who's blood Bevel had tasted. Our brothers were still alive and fighting. A pack like we've always been. Together through sickness, fear, and the loss of others. We're the only three left. Strange master having allowed us to be here. Smiled that big smile and we'd listened to him. Kill and we'll make it out. Feed on flesh and our gears will be moving once more. The mechanical whirl of Bevel's legs echoing in the silent spiked area. A growl upon our lips as there's a quick movement.

Pinion is pulled, scruff pulled up, metal grinding together as our brother goes to bite, but instead there's a quick motion. It's swift. A moment that echoes across our pack. A feeling of sorrow that breaks through in a yelling howl. A sound of a bang, ringing in our ears as blood, oil and gears blow out of what was once Pinion's head. A heavy growl echoes from our throats. A bang as another piece of metal cuts at our cheek. Metal jaw revealed to them, we must survive for Pinion.

The most agile of our pack had been lost.

We rush forward, metal clanging, whirling or Bevel's mangled leg as our metallic teeth are bared.

The small humans were waiting.

Strange master was waiting.

We are starving.

We must feast.

(Spur attacks Lorraine Gaultier; teeth/knife)
LhqgGlQCctknife
(Shallow Cut on Back 4.0)

(Bevel attacks Castor Fosse; teeth/knife)
knife
(Deep Gash on Right Thigh 8.0)

knife·knife

[Deleted]

---

"Okay, smartass," Lore had to admit, she was a little impressed with Sin's shot.  Not what she expected of a boy from twelve; Syren jokes about it as well. Sin Mortuus showed them how it was done indeed and she's interested- why does he know how to shoot a gun? 

What is Mortuus not telling us? 

Well, a lot. It comes with the muteness of course, but she can't help but feel unsettled as she clicks the next shot in her round and size him up. He didn't hesitate, maybe it was instinct, beginner's luck, maybe he saw the way his friend was eaten alive and something natural kicked in, but Lore's seen that look before. Poverty girls and boys back in eight who knew how to defend themselves, they look more comfortable with a weapon. 

Sin Mortuus has more than two skeletons in his closet, Lore knows this now. "Your bestie here just blew the head off a mutt, Castor," she relays it clearly as Syren edges a bullet into the muzzle of a second dog. There's a second where she's caught up in the thought, revelations will do something different to a girl and she doesn't watch her guard -- a dog finds its way to her back. Tearing at the plastic off the hazmat and she sucks her teeth with the sting- "shit!" 

Ahh, stupid fucking dogs. Somebody forgot their damn leashes, "that better not scar," or I'll be pissed! She doesn't see the injured mutt tear into Castor again, that blind boy bleeding onto the bare ground. That boy has no aim, but Sin's got it covered; Lore turns her back, pointing the barrel of her pistol at the dogs gnarled teeth. 

Ugly beast. 

[ lore shoots spur ] 
|yy9sEoC3s200+9000
[ 9129 -- Deep Gash on Neck -- 10 Damage + 1 ]

Click boom, bitch. Maybe she's a little too comfortable with the gun in her hand. The blood splatters eagerly and she's disgustingly excited to see how bad she injured the mutt, an eye for an eye motherfucker. Self preservation has never felt so sexy, "you guys help Castor out," she says as she loads a third bullet into her revolver. The heat of the metal is the most inviting thing in this place.

"I'm killing this bitch."

200+9000

[tick 12a / calla]

► ► ►

Lore barely even has to tell him what happened. He knows from the sound of the gunshot beside him - the way it didn't echo like Castor's shots had, and the way that it had been followed by a crunching sort of mechanical noise.

It makes his ears ring, and he isn't sure if he imagines the howl or not, but the mutts, because that's what they have to be, they whir and growl so loud that it makes his hair stand on edge. More gunshots sound around him, behind him, from fucking everywhere and it pounds against his skull and disorientates him, makes him stumble when he flinches away from the sound.

He takes a step and one of mutt tears into his leg. It makes him crumble, limb going out from underneath him and he yelps. The blood on his hands makes the revolver slip, clattering to the ground and he pushes his hand against his thigh on instinct, then winces when the pain in his fingers flares up again.

He scrambles for his gun, feeling along the ground and digging his nails into the concrete. Help Castor! Lore calls out, and the sound of it almost makes him yell. He wants to be able to help himself, he really does, but his leg is stinging and he still can't find his weapon and all he wants to do is latch onto Sin again, to press his forehead against his chest until the pain goes away, but that would just make him another liability, and Sin needs both of his hands to fight. He can't just drop everything to hold Castor's hand again like a child.

His fingers finally curl around the steel of gun and he drags it towards himself, away from the noise of the mutts, and he uses his good leg to get up on his knee.

"Sin?" He calls shakily, because he doesn't quite know where the other boy is and it's enough to make the air in his ribcage go heavy. Cas knows that Sin is trying to focus on the mutts and he knows that he should be letting him, but he needs the reassurance so bad that it aches. "Don't leave me, don't-"

There's a shuffle near his left ear and he immediately flails away from it, tripping over his leg and stumbling again. The ticking noise from it says that it's not human, that's he's not foolishly aiming at his ally, and he has to trust it.

castor attacks bevel | revolver
813Isbz2_mthrowing knife
Shallow Cut on Hand -- 3.0 damage

throwing knife

[gamemaker kelsier]

s i n .

"you are weak
but not foolish
you have learned
how to die."

The dog mutt stops moving in his arms and for a moment, there's nothing. He can't hear. Then comes a high-pitched ringing sound in his ears and Sin's never shot a gun before. He didn't know it would be like that.

He lets go of the dog, unleashes it to let its corpse fall at his feet and one whole side of his hazmat suit is splattered with slippery, black oil. It is blood, just not the right kind. Sin shakes his head, trying to clear the ringing sound away but it stays there with him, stopping everything else. He doesn't have time to pause though, the other two mutts are still there, eyes on their weakest links. Sin knows what he appears to be, a stunted kid from Twelve and that's always worked to his advantage.

Maybe not here though. Sin glances from Syren to Lore, both suddenly see him differently. It's hard to catch there in the moment, he can't tell if it's distrust or greed. He's always been malleable, always done as he was told. It wouldn't be hard for them to use him to their advantage.

The ringing persists and there's a warmth in his left ear. He's never wielded a weapon before that could hurt him back. It seems fitting though, death should never come free. There's always payment. Sin places a hand on his throat, hand feeling for Eiryls' locket underneath the yellow hazmat suit.

Still there.

Sound returns slowly, too slow, he shouldn't do that again, it'd cost him too much next time.

"Sin? Don't leave me, don't-"

Castor's strangled cry comes through, muffled but still audible and Sin turns quickly, eyes landing on a cornered Castor too late. One of the mutts has its teeth around Castor's thigh and Sin is just in time to watch it bite down on Castor's leg. He curls a hand into a fist and pushes his tongue against the roof of his mouth, frustration having him biting at the bit.

Protecting himself and Castor at the same time was going to be hard if Castor was going to keep wandering off like that.

"you guys help Castor out," Lore yells at both him and Syren, "I'm killing this bitch."

And she is, so he does.

Sin places a hand on Castor's shoulder and pushes him behind him to shield him from the mutt that was focused on him. There's a warning in his eyes as he raises his gun and holds it against the mutt's temple, a quiet communication.

For a moment, everything is still.

Then he fires.

[sin attacks bevel]
4sXnlfj7SIthrowing knife
[9077 -- Shallow Cut on Chest -- 4.0 damage]

throwing knife

[я𝑜𝓈𝑒]

filler again bc it’s exam week and i’m at work sksksk

syren attacks spur; spear
Q4eRdX1Tq3spear
block 0

gm edit: fixing dice, had the curly quotes

gm edit: accuracy
syren attacks spur; spear
spear
Shallow Cut on Right Thigh -- 3.5 damage

spear·spear

[Tom]

Metallic blood upon our lips.

We can taste success within our grasps. Pinion may be dead, but the pack still stands together. Ripping at flesh in order to stay here. In order to stay alive, we needed to fight like our master wanted. Entertainment isn't entertainment without sacrifice. Our strange master would smile at us after this. Feed us those juicy treats that feel like our mouths will melt from the taste alone. We had to survive. We needed to survive. We need to kill. Races, tricks, and skills were nothing to this. Our pack would be the greatest. We are the greatest. We gnarl at the taste of blood, dripping down our metal fangs. Bevel howls angrily into the air. The sickness of the area feeds our desires to keep fighting, to keep moving, to survive.

Bang!

The smell of metal and fire reach our noses. The crunching of flesh and metal clanging through our ears. A trickling of oil and blood, deep in color from our neck, my neck. The stinging of pain from a mangled paw to a hollow neck. It blossoms in a whimper, but also a heavy growl. We-I am the strongest. Bevel is the fastest. Pinion was the most agile. We are a living pack. We are a dying pack. We are a pack unlike no other. We-I-We have to keep fighting in order to go home. Laughter is-was-is what we live for. The small humans are our audience. We-I-we-I....

You will kill.

I-We-I will.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You still stand. Kill. Them.

The pack moves with unease. The burning of metal in their heads. The smell of fire in the air. Gunpowder wounds and broken gears, the pack moves forward. Whimpers and growls and broken sounds keep them going. Behind their eyes, the pack resides, but no one will know their function.

Kill. Them.

Kill them.

The burning in their skulls scream.

The only thing left are teeth and the end of our pack.

(Spur attacks Lorraine Gaultier; teeth/knife)
KOh2|aNVhsknife
(Shallow Cut on Right Hip 3.5)

(Bevel attacks Syren Steele; teeth/knife)
knife
(Stabbed in Hand 8.0)

knife·knife

[Deleted]

---

The beast scratches at her hip, lunging at her center and eating her left fist on its impact- get off me, bitch. Lorraine's never had a problem with confrontation, she counts her two scratches and takes an inhale, exhale to match. It limps on its mechanical leg, that bullet lodged somewhere between a scrap of metal similar to a joint and her eyes widen as the second shot grazes into it. 

"I said I had it!" She barks over her shoulder, grasping her second hand on the gun. 

It's almost an insult the way Syren backs her up instead of Castor and Sin. There's a bit in her that wants to feel competent, to feed that god complex and validate the idea that she's stronger than the three of them- combined. Not just because she wants to be, but because she needs to be. Whether it's some grimy capitolite or the bitches at home; she wants to be the lone star. 

Showstopper moment, she'll be damned if she lets someone else steal it. 

[ lore shoots spur ] 
tpC__93YDH200+9000
[9046 -- Bullet in Back -- 6.5 Damage + 1 T. Practice]

Whirring dies down just as the Mecha does, paralyzed at first as Lore's bullet bores into its nape. She heaves with her shoulders, adrenaline in her trigger finger as she hits her third good shot. It's not with a relief that she exhales as it falls; not pride, nor contempt, just disappointment. Festering almost in the way Sin did it better, or that there was a second where she looked like she needed Syren's help. 

The cuts only hurt when the fabric touches it, somehow the polluted air feels best on it as she loads her three bullets. Gathering herself as if the boys aren't in trouble, almost as if she has to will herself to help. It's the pettiness in her blood to blame Syren for the moment, she kicks the mutt's carcass to be sure before turning to the boys again. 

We need to be more careful -- she cocks her gun and aims between the four of them. One mutt, two boys bleeding, and Syren, and she closes one eye trying to lead the shot. 

It's Russian Roulette and maybe she's the only player; Lorraine hesitates before shooting, watching as the barrel sways between them all. 

200+9000

[tick 12a / calla]

► ► ►

His bullet scrapes against the metal of the mutt and it makes a keening sort of sound behind the noise of the other gunshots. If this was anywhere else, at any other time, he'd probably feel bad for the thing. But the mutt's growling is still loud in his ears, and his leg is stinging worse than ever, and all he can think of is danger danger danger.

But third time's the charm, right? The damn dogs have gotten him twice already and Syren and Lore are focused on their own weapons. Sin, as quiet as he is, could be anywhere, so it's just Cas. The air is heavy with smog and the ground is shaking and it's just him.

So the sudden hand on his shoulder makes him jump and reel back. He wobbles, fumbling with the revolver, and he tries not to trip over his own feet. When something shifts the light over his eyes and moves the air in front of him, he raises his arm.

this is a wip but cas aims at sin and hits the mutt haha <3

castor attacks bevel | revolver
4uR3Rw4adsthrowing knife
Knife Deep in Bicep -- 8.5 damage + 1

throwing knife