He had learned to tune out the rumble from the motorcycle shop above him, perhaps was even now lulled into deep sleep by the growl of the bikes. The humans who ran the place knew the owner had a basement apartment and knew he was a night owl, assuming he partied hard into the wee hours of the morning like a true biker worth his salt..hell, they even assumed the black greasy shit all over him most of the time was oil. For all points and purposes it was..the oily skank nasty of the enemies blood. He killed often and he killed fast and was most of the time alone when he did it. Now..seemingly trapped in the hole until sundown, he paced like a caged animal waiting to sink his blades into the chest of those intent on extinguishing his race.
#Beginnings2012
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