"Oh sh.."
Marek came through the front door of the tavern in a quick stride. It only took a second to recognize the ones about he came for. In a fluid motion the P90 sub machine gun was lifted from his side and fifty round magazine was being discharged in rapid succession. Man and Ork tried to dart up from tables, run for that of the nearest exit. But round after round met it's mark. Cutting them down as easily as a hot knife makes it way through a stick of butter. When the sub machine gun went dry, it was simply dropped to the flooring and the remington 870 shotgun was un-slung from his shoulder and spun around to grasp of the pistol grip. A quick level of the weapon would find the bartender his death. With a quick slide of the pump, a charging Elf with a knife was thrown back into the air by the impact of the next round fired from the shotgun. In total eight shells would be used and once they had run dry, the weapon was dropped for that of a Fabrique National Five-seveN pistol to be taken up from a holster at his belt. Few were left standing by this point. A game of find who's hiding was at hand now. One by one they'd be found hiding in a booth or cowering in a corner. The twenty round magazine would be depleted in less then two minutes.
They were not the innocent. They had no rights. They were the corrupt. The evil of society.
Marek lowered the empty pistol and quietly holstered the weapon. Turning upon the heel of his boot he simply walked back for the door. Not a word spoken. Simply leaving a note on the end of the bar before stepping out onto the busy street and moving on into the crowd to disappear.
Upon the note left upon the bar...
"Now you will receive us. We do not ask for your poor, or your hungry. We do not want your tired and sick. It is your corrupt we claim. It is your evil that will be sought by us. With every breath, we shall hunt them down. Each day we will spill their blood, 'til it rains down from the skies. Do not kill. Do not rape. Do not steal. These are the principles which every man of every faith can embrace. These are not polite suggestions, these are codes of behavior, and those of you that ignore them will pay the dearest cost. There are varying degrees of evil. We urge you lesser forms of filth, not to push the bounds and cross over, in to true corruption, into our domain. For if you do, one day you will look behind you and you will see us, and on that day you will reap it. And we will send you to whatever god you wish."
Marek came through the front door of the tavern in a quick stride. It only took a second to recognize the ones about he came for. In a fluid motion the P90 sub machine gun was lifted from his side and fifty round magazine was being discharged in rapid succession. Man and Ork tried to dart up from tables, run for that of the nearest exit. But round after round met it's mark. Cutting them down as easily as a hot knife makes it way through a stick of butter. When the sub machine gun went dry, it was simply dropped to the flooring and the remington 870 shotgun was un-slung from his shoulder and spun around to grasp of the pistol grip. A quick level of the weapon would find the bartender his death. With a quick slide of the pump, a charging Elf with a knife was thrown back into the air by the impact of the next round fired from the shotgun. In total eight shells would be used and once they had run dry, the weapon was dropped for that of a Fabrique National Five-seveN pistol to be taken up from a holster at his belt. Few were left standing by this point. A game of find who's hiding was at hand now. One by one they'd be found hiding in a booth or cowering in a corner. The twenty round magazine would be depleted in less then two minutes.
They were not the innocent. They had no rights. They were the corrupt. The evil of society.
Marek lowered the empty pistol and quietly holstered the weapon. Turning upon the heel of his boot he simply walked back for the door. Not a word spoken. Simply leaving a note on the end of the bar before stepping out onto the busy street and moving on into the crowd to disappear.
Upon the note left upon the bar...
"Now you will receive us. We do not ask for your poor, or your hungry. We do not want your tired and sick. It is your corrupt we claim. It is your evil that will be sought by us. With every breath, we shall hunt them down. Each day we will spill their blood, 'til it rains down from the skies. Do not kill. Do not rape. Do not steal. These are the principles which every man of every faith can embrace. These are not polite suggestions, these are codes of behavior, and those of you that ignore them will pay the dearest cost. There are varying degrees of evil. We urge you lesser forms of filth, not to push the bounds and cross over, in to true corruption, into our domain. For if you do, one day you will look behind you and you will see us, and on that day you will reap it. And we will send you to whatever god you wish."