The Therteenth Child

"Maybe" said Red as he looked closely at the bodies lying in the canal or even on the walk way.

He grinned. Back when they spotted the first corpse, Gwhar had expressed genuine concern for child number thirteen. That clearly meant that, in the end, he and Red were after the same thing. The rescue of the thirteenth child.

Then Red noticed something as he paid attention to every detail of the corpses now. The only body that had a distinguishable bullet wound was the remains of the Uzi caring gang member. All those other bodies showed signs of torture. There were strangle neck marks, knife and/or hatchet wounds, limbs cleanly cut off, ribs torn... There were even clear signs of rape and other forms of sexual abuse.

"Yeah... Maybe".

The first thought that came to mind was "The city's underworld's dumping ground". That looked like the solution but Red knew better. Why would a dumping ground like that be so close to an active meth-lab. Also, if this was the dumping ground used by the city's criminals then there would a lot more bodies here. Plus, there wasn't a lot of water here so a number of remains being washed away couldn't have bin the case. Suddenly realization dawned. Most of the bodies had one thing in common. Every man, woman and child that lay dead in this forgotten place had distinct marks of sexual abuse on them. Combined with the surprisingly precise laceration and dismemberment of the carcases and almost similar neck marks on all the bodies with the abuse marks....

"Dear lord!"

Red wasn't a very religious man. In fact he lost his faith quite a long time ago. But the realization that struck him was so disturbing and shocking that the phrase slipped out. Snuff films! There was no doubt about it. This was the dumping ground of a snuff film ring.For a moment Red nearly staggered as he walked.

Unlike his companion Gwharr had no idea of how or why the all the dead bodies had ended up here. His first thought was that it had been a clash between two rival tribes. That sort of thing happened alot back in the day when he was younger, It was something that he could understand and relate too. However, that is why he immediately dismissed of the idea. Nothing in this world made any sense to him, so why should people suddenly start to act sensibly again. Down here in the stinky tunnels of slime and filth now less. Besides, the bodies where all far too different to support that theory. In a struggle all the dead die within a span of a few hours or a day at most, whilst the 'age' of these bodies varied all over the scope. Some where relatively fresh whilst others where half-rotten and partially liquified. The oldest where little more than skeletons with strips of black, rotten flesh still hanging on to them.

Then it suddenly hit him, like lightning out of a blue sky! This may not be a battlefield, but there was another explanation that made sense if you stretched it a little. Something that he had seen before! This place was very much akin to the the entrance of thecave of a fearsome, dreaded cave-bear that lived in the ages past. Cavebears where notorious for leaving bits of bone and undigestable bits of their prey outside of their lairs, usually warning his tribe wether a cave was safe to enter or not. The remains that was lying outside a cavebears cave was similar to these bodies in some ways. First of all they where not all of one kind. the bones of Deers, oxen, his tribesmen thin people, and all manner of creatures could be found outside the lair of a cavebear. Here it was men, women, old and young. Secondly, they had not been killed at the same time. A cavebear hunts when it wa hungry, and it seemed that the killer of all these people had also had their "urges" with certain intervals. However, despite their diversity and varying degrees of decomposition it was apprant that they had all met their end in a similar manner. The victims of a cavebear usually carried the distinctive claw-marks and crushed bones from the bears massive bite, while the bodies in the tunnel where not clawed or bitten, they all had very similar wounds, usually in the same places. The final clue that this was not a battlefield was a rather simple one. If this had been a battle, most, if not all of the bodies would have been men. Certainly no young children would have been present.

Their quarry was a beast, like a cavebear he killed, but where the cavebear killed to eat, survive and occasioanlly to defend itself, this man killed for no reason at all. He had not even bothered to eat the bodies of those he had slain, but had instead let them spoil down here in this rat-infested sweage-pit. Gwharr snarled quietly to himself. He would teach their quarry a bit about how a proper predator behaved before he devoured him. However, despite his seething rage, Gwharr could not help but notice that his companion seemed to have been taken aback a little by the scene of carnage they had stumbled upon.

"To not feel sad. To let sight of "place of death" strengthen resolve" Gwharr spoke, patting the man lightly on the shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort him. Although the gesture was somewhat diminished by the fact that the caveman had to use a foot, since his hands were busy holding onto the pipe.

Red felt nauseous. He wanted to feel fresh air on his face. To take of his restricting mask breath deeply. But no. If took it of now, he would only fill his lungs with the stench of excrement and death. He looked around once more. So many innocence. For one brief moment, the resolve that he developed through out the years nearly crumbled. Then if felt Gwharr 'foot' on his shoulder, patting him. It was crude, yes, but Red understood the meaning. He regained his posture and looked around once more. He felt the old battle raging in side of him again. Vengeance or Justice.The same conflicting emotions were present the day his file long transformation was at an end. Red brushed the thoughts aside. He'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. He looked on into the darkness yet to be explored and in the smallest most secluded part of his mind, a twinge of fear for what he might find took form.

Red shook his head "You know, some times I feel like I had the rotten luck of being born in a wrong place at the wrong time" he chuckled, trying to lift his spirit "I'm sure I would feel at home in you era, big guy".

He pointed his light into the corridor and continued on with new resolve boiling in him. Now, more then first heard about the child abductions in Westmoor, Red wanted to tare Brian Fellps and every other person involved in this atrocity, apart with his bear hand. That anger fueled his every step now. It fueled his will to go forth and do what must be done.

There was a tiny speck of light shining in the darkness. It was so far away that the flashlight couldn't reveal it. Red's pace quickened again. They were close now. There prey awaited.

Gwharr grinned sympathetically when The Hunter said he'd rather be alive back in the days when mammoths still roamed the earth and when a bear-skin pelt around your waist was still at the height of fashion. Our heroic caveman nodded in approval. He wasn't sure if the Red Hunter had actually meant what he said, or if he was only trying to be kind. He assumed it was the latter, since most of the citizens in this "World of lights" seemed to think that this time was the best one to live in out of all the eras that has passed. However, The Red Hunter had never struck him as a typical citizen of the topside. Maybe he was different. Who knnew, and did it even matter?

"To know that they have been the good days. Simple days." Gwharr said softly, almost as if dreaming whilst, his smile turned just a shade more bitter. The more he thought about his past life in a world that was gone and all but forgotten and how things 'should' be, the more he felt like he didn't belong in this new world. He was a relic. He sighed heavily, thoughts like that always made him feel weary.

When he thought about it most people seemed to favour the time that they happened to be born into. The old favoured the olden days and the young were far more interested in the current than dwelling upon things that had passed long ago. Gwharr himself was no exception. He was very old, and thus longed for a time that had long since dissapeared into the mists of time. However, he still nursed the hope that this current civilization would collapse and the world would return to a state in wich he and those like him would thrive! After all, it was only a question of time. All empires fall sooner or later, and this one was probably no exception. Gwharr had seen it happen quite a few times in the past.

as he noticed the strange speck of light in the distance he quit his reverie and focused on their prey instead. After all, he could wallow in self-pity later, since he literally had 'all the time in the world'. Right now he had to make sure that the evil man that had roused his companions anger would pay for their sins with their lives. He snarled viciously, but quietly and nodded towards the light, in case his companion had not noticed it yet, and decided that now it was time for speed. the speed of his climbing dramatically increased as the Ape-man actually started to put some effort into his slovenly climbing. He pretty much threw himself from grip to grip, moving forward at the aproximate speed of a funning man. They where close now. . . So very close!

"Simple they were" said Red. He contemplated for a moment. What was life like in those savage yet simpler times. He quickly brought himself back as he saw that the spark of light was actually a brick-sized, dusty, dirty window on a huge, heavy steel door. Red's gaze scanned tho whole man-made construct. The door, in contrast to the rest of the tunnel, seemed relatively new. It wasn't polished or anything but fresh oil shined on the door's massive hinges, and on the floor were curved marks where the door scraped against the concert when opened or closed.

Red ran his hand along it's surface and then looked at his palm. It was covered with dirt. The door might was very heavy obviously. If it wasn't there wouldn't be any dirt on it because it could be opened quickly and all the dirty would fall of with every swing. But now. This door opened slowly. So slow that the dirt stayed on the surface. That surely meant that it was heavy.

Red whipped the filth of the window and peered through. There was a lit chamber on the other side. There was nobody in it at the moment, that much was evident through the dirt stained window. Red reached into his pouches and pulled out three small, metal spheres, "Three ought to be enough".

He looked up at where Gwhar still hung from the sealing pipes.

"Listen closely. I'm going to destroy the lock on this door with these" he brandished the spheres "then you'll open the door as fast as you can. Understand?"

It did not take the pair long untill they had finally had reached the mysterious, strangely odd-looking door, both of had been moving rather quietly and stealthily untill this point, but Gwharr suspected it was going to be all over and done with when it came to stealth. After all, there was no way to punch out a door that looked this tough without making any sort of sound. It seemed that ripping it of its hinges would be a rather noisy affair too, especially since sound carried rather well down here. Gwharr may not be clever, but he was a hunter and a hunter knew these things by heart. Besides, twenty very long millenia of possessing a rather high grade of superstrength had taught him that although being superstrong was a rather usefull ability to have when people locked their doors, it wasn't the most discrete of abilities.

However, there was no denying that he had been rather impressed by the Red Hunters ability to keep quiet and stealthy thus far. He had definately earned the right to use the moniker "Hunter" in Gwharrs eyes. Gwharr was just about to drop down and smash open the door, and possibly the other Wall, when Red started to examine it, wiping away the grime and mold that was currently growing on it, seemingly inspect it. Gwharr ceased his plan to smash through the door as if it had been made of rotten plywood and instead waited for Red to do whatever it is he was planning to do. He seemed to tinker a bit with a bunch of rather silly-looking balls he was carrying with him. The whole thing reeked of science, and Gwharr did not like it one bit, since Science tended to hurt and explode at him alot. However, he trusted his ally and kept his opinions about science to himself.

Red hunter then turned, telling Gwharr to punch open the door when he was finished doing whatever it was he was doing. Gwharrs massive brow furrowed, he nodded, to confirm that he understood and was going to do as he was told this one time. He then proceeded to dropp his tight grip on the massive pipes above so that he could go toe-to-toe withe the door whenever the Red Hunter was doing his sciency stuff.

He landed on the filthy walkway with a massive "thudd" causing the water on the side to ripple slightly. He could feel the cold, slimey traces of molds and whatnot beneath his bare feet, but tried not to think about it. He could take care of it later if he wanted too, but right now he had to focus on the task that lay ahead! The primitive caveman clenched his fists and cracked his knuckles, getting ready to kick some serious door.. . . He suspected that there might be yet a hostile encounter behind the door for somehow. Everyone knew thinlings always hid behind doors for some reason!

"Five seconds should be enough" thought Red as he used the three fingers on his right hand to rotate the tiny timers on all the spheres at once. He knew that when he let go of them, the timers will countdown and then the spheres will do there job. Carefully, he brought them near the door's large lock. It had a wheal instead of a handle, much like the hatches, one would see on ships and submarines. Red inhaled deeply and removed his fingers from the timers.

5

He quickly jammed the three spheres right behind the wheal. He worked quickly yet calmly so that there would be no screw ups.

4

Red got up and with a fast walk made his way to Gwharr who seemed to have bin waiting to see what he was doing.

3

He motioned for Gwharr to follow without stopping and continued down the tunnel away from the huge door.

2

At about thirty feet away from the door Red stopped and turned toward it. He relaxed his stance and crossed his arms.

1

Three quick pops, one right after the other, were heard. The far less loud then gun shots yet still loud enough to be heard. Then the stench of the sewer was replaced by the distinct smell of sulfur. Red smiled. The acid pellets were doing there job. Only then had Red exhaled.

Gwharr leaned down as discreetely as he could, trying to figure out what in the name of Alan Rickman the Red Hunter was up to with that grimy old door. However, since whatever it was he was concocting had not exploded yet, he might have reconsider his assumption that it was science-related, after all, The Red hunter was a man of many tricks, so maybe he was trying to open it using some sort of key or lockpick or something of that, although Gwharr had never encountered any functional lockpick wich had even remotely looked like three balls. Maybe its was technological. ( In Gwharrs mind "technological" basically meant "weird thingamajiggers that make weird happenings occur ) Whatever the Red Hunter was up to Gwharr figured it to be unnatural and maybe a bit blasphemous for some reason. Maybe it was some sort of science after all. But if it were science, would he really dare being so close to it?

However, as Red started running away, and motioning for Gwharr to follow him, the Cave-man once leapt up at the pipes, swinging away as quickly as he possibly could, swearing in his native, pre-human language. "To Hate Sciency stuff!" he grunted to himself as rushed away, expecting a huge nasty boom to be heard behind him att any second, followed by a wall of fire that would burn his flesh and consume the less invulnerable Red Hunter entirely. After all, the thinling humans where far less resistant to the effects to science than cave-men apparantly. This was a fact that had been proven to Gwharr time and time again. Made him wonder why the poor buggers had even bothered to come up with the thing in the first place. Maybe they had some sort of suicidal streaks. Maybe it could be some form of race-wide guilty conscience about wiping out his ancestors all those years ago. If it was, Gwharr thought they overdid it. I mean, if you commited genocide, you should feel a bit bad about it, but there was no need for inventing science about it!

However, the explosion and horrible, painfull searing wall of hungry flames he had expected seemed to have taken a day of or something. Instead all he heard where three little pops. and a farty smell. "To think that shoddy science" The caveman said conversationally, scratching his thick mane of greasy hair, obviously being more than a bit confused

Red approached the door. a thick stream of smoke surrounded the lock. He waved the smoke away to see his work. The metal around the wheal was sizzling and bobbling like heated oil on a frying pan. Red reached forward and almost casually tapped the wheal with his index finger. With a clang, the wheal fell off, or melted off, from the hub, leaving a bobbling hole in it's place. The door's surface around the hole looked like Swiss cheese now, with still smoldering little holes all over it. Exactly how he had envisioned it.

Red looked up to Gwharr and gestured toward the door "Your turn". He smile beneath his mask.

Gwharr looked at what remained of the door, and it was not a pretty sight. It looked somewhat akin to a half-melted block of ice, seemingly about to crumple into a pile of melting metal on its own at any minute now. The wall around the door was not unnafected too, but was full of holes, as if there had been some sort of mutated brick-eating termite on the loose in the sewers for several years. Gwharr shrugged slightly, wondering why he simply couldn't have punched the door open. It wouldn't be that difficult or anything. Still, if this was the way the Red Hunter wanted things to go down, who was he to argue? The red Hunter had been on these kinds of hunts before, so he knew how to hunt them well. Presumably far better than Gwharr. Thus it would have been presumtious of Gwharr to ask him about his methods.

In the essence of things, Red Hunter was the experienced hunter whilst Ghwarr was the junior hunter, and it was not Gwharrs place to question his expetize. Such actions had crushed many a friendship and caused many a feud back in Gwharrs tribal days.

When Red Hunter gave Gwharr the signal to take point, Gwharr nodded, once again defering to his companions expertize in this sort of hung. He rushed forward in a manner remniscents of a gorilla, utilizing two legs and one arm, leaving the last arm free to grab his club if any enemy reared his ugly face. He'd probably not really need it, but it felt comforting to be ready to take it out nonetheless. As the cave-man darted off towards the door, his pig-like eyes darted left and right, looking for hidden traps or assaliants as he went through the mangled doorway. It stank of some sort of disgusting chemical, presumably because of the rather annoying science he had utilized to get through the door. It stank of science!

Gwharr looked back, waving for his companion to come along, the inside seemed to be clear thus far. . .

Red made his way into the chamber and looked around. Two things became clear at that moment. First, they were really dealing with snuff film makers and second, this was probably there storage room. Crates of tapes and CD were all around the chamber. There were other crates there as well but the were nailed shut so Red couldn't tell what was in side of them. Probably there "tools". In one corner of the room was a computer with two cheep mail-ordered monitors hooked up to it. Red saw the only other door on the other side of the room. It looked like any other normal apartment building door.

Red moved quickly and silently to the door and leaned his head against it. There were voices on the other side of the door. Two at best, and they were getting louder.

"Two men coming. We must ambush them and not let the scream or call attention here. Hide. When the enter, take out which ever one you want I'll take out the other" Red said, his words quick and to the point, before he jumped over a larger closed crate near the door and crouched behind it.

Gwharr entered the strange room, his eyes suspiciously drawn towards the two rather shoddy-looking monitors that stood in a particurlarly smelly corner of the room. Even though there was several strangely smelling little thingamajigs in the shape of christmas trees hanging from the roof, spreading a far more pleasant scent than the smell of several years of neglect and disrepair, mildew on the wall, the mold in the corner and from the fetid, slimy, horribly smelly sewer just outside the door. However, no matter how hard the little trees tried (Gwharr seemed to recall the word 'wunderbaum' from somewhere) they could not cover the stench comming from the several forms of decay that were present in our in the vicinity of the room.

Gwharr curiously aproached the two monitors, giving them a test-prod with a finger as thick as the Red Hunter's wrist. He had seen such a device before, but then it was glowing, less bulky and not quite as filthy as this pair of kajiggers were. He caught himself curiously wondereing what the purpose of these devices were. Maybe they showed you how to find food, or maybe they heated food for you. He had seen devices that did so before, but they were usually bigger, with more knobs on them for some reason. He couldn't quite understand it anydanghow.

He left the monitors, deciding to take a gander at what exciting, modern mysteries the crates that where conveniently placed nearby held. He swiftly and silently moved up to one of them, trying to remove the lid, but realizing that it had been nailed shut. The only way to open it, would be to smash it, and that sort of operation would be far too noisy to attempt whilst hunting. He could look at crates at someo ther time. After all, they would probably still be here later, right.

Then Gwharr heard footsteps and muffled voices outside the door, and quickly leapt to the door, placing himself rather clos to it, so that whoever opened it would have to meet him face-to-face. That way they wouldn't have time to turn around and run before he could grab ahold of them. He perked his ears, listening to the two men as they aproached, and even though he couldn't make out any words, he could hear they where talking at a rather relaxed tone. Apparantly they weren't quite aware of their intrusion quite yet.

As the door opened, Gwharrs massive arm shot out, his massive hand enveloping hte head of one of the men, like one of the little face-huggers from the alien-franchise. He slowly lifted the man, into the air, whilst he was kicking wildly, flailing with his limbs in all direction. Gwharr could feel his mouth attempt to on the palm of his hand, but no sound came out of it. He simply held on too tight. Gwharr clenched his fists, causing a muffled, cracking sound to be heard and blood to splurth through his fingers, as the body of his victim spasmed wildly, before just shivering slightly, definately dead.

Gwharr then threw the body behind him, the poor man's head nothing but a bloody mess of crushed bones and the gray, bloody sludge that was all that remained of the brain of his victim. Gwharr couldn't help to wonder what the man had looked like. It felt rather strange that he had never had time to see the face of the man he had just killed. It was rather sad in a way, but at the same time, he had done what he had to do. He had killed efficiently and quickly, stealthily and without giving the opponent time to react.

"What the..mph!" before the other man could react or call for help, he felt a gloved hand clamp his mouth. He struggled for a second until a sharp pain in his ribs made him cringe and every muscle in his body tighten with pain.

Red could fell the man's struggles fade as his blade ran deeper into his flesh, puncturing his lung. The man was so much in pain, his mind couldn't stabilize so his arms simply spasmed in panic and horror. After a few more seconds of ever decreasing struggle, the man slumped lifelessly in Red's arms, his life already left his now motionless eyes frozen in a look of horror. Red silently dragged away and placed his body behind a few of the crates, out of sight. He approached the body of the man Gwharr had take out and hid him in the same fashion.

"Good work. Let's go"

Red made his way through the door he two man came through. It was a short hallway, barely lit by flickering ceiling lamps. On the other side of the hall way was a half opened door. Red almost glided to the door quietly and peeked into the room on the other side. To say that it was big would be an understatement. It was a big room with no windows just a double door on the other side. Two digital cameras on tripods, hooked up to transfer and power cables, were there as well. One old spotlight, the only light source in the room, hung from the wall to Red's right. It's beam shewn down at the very center of the room. There, in the center, was an old bed. White sheets covered the mattress. Red at least thought they were white. It was difficult to see it's true color from all the dried up blood that covered almost every inch of the sheets. The room looked abandoned, but one can never be too careful. Red's gaze searched the tops of the walls for security cameras or other methods of detection.

None. Good.

Red motioned for Gwharr to follow him and pushed the door open. The room was full of the stench of sex and death. Beneath his mask, Red's brow creased with disgust. He made his way slowly to the bed. The sight of so much death and suffering. He sighed for a moment and shook his head.

Gwharr looked at his friend taking the bodies, putting them behind the crates and wondered what hte point of this was. After all, anyone who came down her would notice they had ruined the door, even though no bodies had been in sight. Maybe it was an oversight on his part somehow. It might be one another of those human-things where they did not noticed broken doors or similar trivialities. These thoughts were boring him slightly and he knew he wouldn't be able to figurei tio tou anytime soon, and ultimately decided to trust the Red Hunters judgement of what was proper bodydisposal-technique when it came to these things. After all, getting rid of bodies was another boring thing he would rather leave for someone else to deal with.

Gwharr grinned happily at the praise he recieved from his companion, feeling all good about himself for crushing the head of the man, rather than being uncertain about it obviously. The Red Hunter was obviously one of the good guys, and if a good guy said you did good, you could be certain that you were in fact doing good, right? Right! He followed his compainion as he went through the door into the dimly lit hallway. Gwharr snorted in annoyance at the continual buzz of the few dying flourescant lights in the roof. He really hated that sound. It reminded him of the swarms of big mosquitoes that had plauged him when he was little. A throng of them would descend upon the village, and sick and old individuals might be drained of so much blood that they died. Horrible creatures. He was glad that particurlar branch had been cut from the family-tree of mosquitoes.

The room on the other side of the room smelled like blood, violence, fear and copulation. In short it smelled like the conquering, pillage and looting that followed a battle, as well as the scent that occured when warrior partook of the "spoils of war" He did not like this, it bothered him. There was a bunch of technological thingamajiggers in the room, but it was not they that smelt of conquering, it was the bed. The bed was red with dried-up blood, and Gwharr now knew where all the bodies outside in the sewers had come from. "To kill them all!" The Caveman growled quietly as his eyes narrowed. He felt the bloodthirst grow inside of him. In short:He definately would have no qualm crushing the head of the next man he met in these tunnels. . .

"Kill them all? Yes" growled Red, rage slowly consuming him. The same rage that gave him the strength to reach the man who destroyed his life. Who made him.
He stormed to the double door on the other side of the room. He leaned against the wall right beside the door. There were voices on the other side. How man he didn't know and didn't care. He grabbed a flashbang from his belt and pulled out the pin. the five second fuse was lit. He waited for three seconds while turning to Gwharr "when I kick the door open cover your eyes". He said the words quickly, knowing that the fuse was already on 4. He kicked the door open and threw the stun grenade into the air. In a split second before the detonation Red saw what was behind the door and was already pulling out his guns. Six men stood in a dimly lit yet equally big room. Four of them had automatic weapons, two had knifes. There were cages everywhere. Big steel cages, the kind one would seen in the circus. It was probable where they came from. Also, there were people in the cages.

The flash bang went off and the six men were caught of guard. They staggered, rubbing there eyes blinded by the flash. Red was already upon the closest one, a big guy with a snake tattoo on his right cheek and beer belly. He slammed his fist into the criminal's beer gut. He then slammed the handle of his gun into his temple. The man went down like a sack of potatoes. The next man, a thin, scrawny guy with a round nose and balding head, was raising his automatic at Red. But before he could even pull the trigger, Red had already grabbed the guns barrel, shoved it aside, pressed the barrel of his gun against the thin man's forehead and pulled his trigger. The rage coursed through his veins, fueling his every move, directing his every strike.

Gwharr put a massive hand over his entire face untill the sudden flare had gone off. He knew how to handle these things, since he had met another one who used them. A man whom he refered to as Mr.Silverpants. A horrible, ruthless man who blew up entire kingdoms with his stupid little toys. However, in some way him and the Red Hunter were very alike. Both where ruthless, and from what he had seen of Red he was probably ready to go extremely far to reach whatever goals he had set for himself. Silverpants was different though, He seemed to have no goals, just pointless, wanton destruction, zany whims and general excitement. Thy both used the same sort of weapons. Sciency throwing-things that exploded, smoked, spread light and whatnot, as well as sharp blades and knives wich they wielded with a certain level of skill. Finally, both of them wore a tight suit for a some reason. They where similar in appearance, but oh so different in motivation and purpose.

Gwharr rushed past Red and two mooks, heading straight for the remaining gunmen. Two of them raised their weapons, One of them even had time to fire a few rounds at the caveman. A rather pointless gesture, since bullets where about as usefull to fight him as a cheese would be to frighten off a raging elephant bull. Gwharr charged into the man trying to shoot him, knocked him over by his sheer weight and speed, and trampled him beneath his mighty feet. He could feel the thug's ribcage being being crushed under his bare feet. Weighing almost half a metric ton had that effect on people. He utilized one of his hands to punch one of the men across the face, with enough force that he flew across the room with a broken neck and a crushed skull, already dead before he hit the wall. Gwharrs other hand enveloped the torso of a particuralrly large, heavily built man wearing a muscle-shirt and a pair of too large pants. He then proseeded to crush the man's torso by clenching his fist.

Gwharr then turned his attention to the large man, who had already dropped his knife, backing away, holding his hands up in surrender, trying to ask for mercy from the two invaders, but due to his panic and shock he couldn't really get his tounge to wrap around the language, and the words came out as mere biggerish, whilst his ears was tearing up. It was obvious that this little man was very, very afraid. Gwharr advanced on the man, who stood against the wall, looking at the hunter, looking towards the door, when he realized there was no escape. With the realization that he with all certainty was going to die here, the poor thug sniffled, closed his eyes and waited for the end to come, praying that it would be quick and painless.