The room was covered in blood, empty casings, and bone fragments. The furniture was destroyed, windows shattered and walls ridden with bullet holes. He sat inbetween what used to be a desk and a the body of someone who currently resembled melted swiss chese. In front of him were some smoking weapons coated in blood. His head inclined towards the ground, his hands resting on his knees, gripped tightly in the black leather fingers are the two silenced fm-900's.
There's a splintered pile of wood that used to be a door in the center of the room, and three other dead bodies in the room, one's half sticking out of the door, the remains of the door behind him painted with his insides, the other two sprawled out on the floor in pools of their own blood. On the floor he breathes heavily, he sucks in a large breath of air, as he slides up the wall his back never leaving it till he's on his feet. He spins around on his heels and walks backwards along the broken door, as he gets to the edge of the door a shotgun from the floor sucks in the smoke from it's barrel and flies towards the body in the door. The paint on the wall of blood and bone fragments peel off the wall and funnel into a solid object as the skin wraps itself around the now visible exiles head. The bullets exit his face closing the wounds as they fly towards the magnums and the casings jump up from the floor and into the chambers. The body of the exile spits out the bullet and sucks the blood from the wall behind it in like a sponge. The door behind splinters back into a solid piece.
Darminian whips wildly to his left and as a large cabinent behind him comes back together, the doors going back on the hinges and the several holes around the large one in the center fill themselves with the full non damaged wood of the same color. As several shotfun pellets fly across the room floating by darminian by barely an inch, the blast sucks itself into the gun and the exile seems to *CENSORED* the weapon as it falls to his side. Darminian weaves again and steps back across the door, moving backwards. The pools of blood around the other dead bodies are sucked into them, weapons slide across the floor and into their hands as they seem to slump back up in some sort of twisted resurected movement. Casings jump from the floor back into Darminian's pistols aswell as the two near him, one on his left in a chair next to a table, one on his right sitting in the couch.
The bulletholes in the walls seems to spit out the bullets and close their mouths behind them as a hail of criss-crossing lead flies by Darminians RSI. The shots start off sporatic and terrible and get more accurate as bullets fly from their bodies into Darminian's guns. Their faces turn from expressionless, to pained to angered as their guns refill fully and darminian moves back across the door and out into the hall. The two exiles in the chairs place their weapons down near them. The splintered door flies up from the floor in a cloud of dust, and for a moment light shines through the unbelieveable amount of holes within it. The swiss chesed fellow slides up the wall and stumbles forward, closing the bulletholes in the wall behind him and sucking up his own blood, as he seems to flail his libs forward spitting bullets out of his torso and face back through the holes in the front door, into the twin clamors Darminian has in front of the door.
His hands move awkwardly and fast as he collects the bullets for his smg's through the door, and lets his left hand drop to the side. With his right he seems to take back knocks made upon the door, the smg's fall to his sides and he stands perfectly still in front of the door.
"noops on si ereht."
He sucks in a deep breath slowly and exhales sharply.
~Darminian
