The Black Reaper grinned as he watched the entire section set ablaze, explosions rippling through the air, screams were the only sound that he could hear, and it was music to his ears. His gas mask was hanging off his belt, dangling in the air as the smell of burning building mixed with the smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils.
The grin increased in length.
He turned around and stepped off the building, not even looking back once.
Goodbye Patrick.
President Platt stood in the Oval Office, rubbing his forehead. Lynchburg had just lost thousands upon thousands of its local residents due to a terrorist attack in the eastern part of the city. Children, men, women, gone.
He needed to call the Guardians on this one.
"Mr. President," An unknown voice cut through the air like a knife, causing Platt to look up into the air, already ready to fight as he saw a single man standing sitting on the edge of one of the removed tiles.
