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The Avenger

His eyes closed but the guns were up and singing a chorus of death. Bullets hitting their marks, spreading the word of pain and agony to those unfortunate enough to receive them.

Max walked through the room like he was taking a Sunday stroll. His arms swinging around and firing off a round here and there. He was in no mood to play around; this was business. This was payback. He was an avenging angel.

Cries were heard as men fell to the floor like discarded candy wrappers.

Angus Mode heard the cries from the men in the other room; he glanced out to see what was going on. To see Max glide through the room in a ritualistic dance, bringing nothing but death to those who were in his way.

"Damn," Angus muttered as he grabbed the case off the table. He told the other occupants in the room that the deal was off. "Got to book."

"What's going on?" asked one of the shadowy men.

"Someone who doesn't like our company, I gather," Angus said with a snide smile as he headed for the back door.