By the time seven O clock struck the clock, Nicolai was done.
His hands were covered with dried-up blood and everyone who saw him marching down the building where he lived seemed to be overly concerned. However, Nicolai did not care.
Even the notion of them calling the police didn't scare him.
They could suck his balls as far as Nicolai was concerned.
To them, violence might be a big no-no but for Nicolai, it was the only means for his survival. If he did not beat people down until they were on the ground, battered and bruised— he would certainly explode. Tragically at that.
And if he exploded then he would be taking countless people down with him.
These motherfuckers should be glad that he was not pulling a stunt such as that. And yet they were looking at him as if he had committed some sort of crime.
He was showing so much kindness, damn it! What else did they want from him!?
