It was Soren. The half-man was still making the motions of laughter... insistently pointing beside him.
The Rat next to Benji had taken Soren's flintlock and swallowed the round... the hole in the back of his head was bigger than a fist. He could make out the fat spilled on the street that used to be the inside of the guy's skull.
That he couldn't hear didn't make any sense.
He heard the thump of the guy's head smacking the pavement.
...but he didn't hear the 'bang'. He couldn't hear how hard Soren was laughing. He couldn't hear himself pray to gods he didn't believe in.
The walls were vomiting bits and pieces of the people Benji called his family, fleshy parts slowly sliding down in trails of blood. Forearms and feet, torn faces and flaps of skin with blood-mucked hair-- everything got spit up, covered in viscera and bile.
The darkness couldn't stand the taste of thieves, extortionists, and murderers. And why would it?
