Jin and Ashton—back against back—stood next to each other, and, far more intense, amidst an atrocious slew of corpses. These forever inanimate bodies spanned across the road's area to its entirety. Charnel stenches—wafting perpetually—flooded the air.
Not even afar, was an unfinished biker. He laid upon the floor; a green dagger sticking from his chest. He gagged on his own blood. He had never—in his entire life—met teenage boys with this level of competence when it came to a fight. At least his light was put out by someone powerful.
Jin looked around. He wasn't looking at the myriad of corpses. His eyes stopped at a figure who leaned against a light pole. The figure looked like an identical twin of his. His hands were jammed in his pockets. His presence was ominous. The figure noticed Jin looking at him, and took his hands out of his pockets. Finally, he started to clap, smirking.
