At around 7:00 pm, a small group of people gather outside of an abandoned house in a rough part of town. They're a scruffy group -- purposely scruffy, even -- and they shuffle around sharing a cigarette before they file into the house, doing their best to look nonchalant. They're totally supposed to be there. This is totally their house
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So he's grumbling to himself about this when the bullet goes through his head. ...and then he's not really grumbling about much after that.
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He doesn't usually like a full-out frontal assault like this is going to be; he prefers to slip in quietly, get things over with fast and be out of there before anyone realizes something has gone awry. But this was supposed to look like a civilian attack -- oh, careful inspection might hint that it isn't, but it's not as if Wanderers don't have their ways of getting their hands on the weapons they're using. Enough come through his shop looking, anyway.
So it's the front door after all. He gets to it just as it's opening, some curious CLF member coming to investigate the noise of their guard dying. He doesn't bother with his gun, just grabs her and very neatly snaps her neck, then continues into the house.
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"Funtimes now? Oh, I know you've been crying Francine, I know." He draws the machete from where it's strapped to his back. "I know, girl. You're. So. Thirsty."
As soon as Arlin has snapped the girl's neck, Dev pushes his way inside. And there they all are, standing and sitting and oblivious as they turn to see what the commotion is. The nearest one sees the machete and his eyes slowly widen and there, there is that delicious look of pure terror. Dev savors it for a split second before he smiles and swings the machete against the man's neck. The fountain of blood paints the wall red and spatters across the front of Dev's shirt.
Dev gives a little shiver.
"'By the pricking of my thumbs,'" he mutters as he turns toward the next one, eyes wide, "'Something wicked this way comes ( ... )
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