Is this a bad place to be, or..? (Jac and I)

Somewhere in a North American town, in an arid state, Drake walked with his head down, attempting to be inconspicuous. By his side was a satchel, though not his original one. That one was lost forever, somewhere. Drake had no idea what this town was called, where exactly it was and was not even sure what country he was in. He had probably hopped borders at some point during hitching rides with random people. Drake did all of that to keep his next target a surprise even from himself, and for his target he looked, all across the town; he skulked through back alleys and kept inconspicuous until he found something. A shady looking place, this was, a real change from the usual extravagant numbers he pulled. He pulled back his good and grinned like the maniac he was, and he walked down the stairs leading to an open door from the alleyway he happened to find himself in. As he walked into the establishment, everyone looked at the grinning teen and pulled out firearms and other weapons. Drake shouted, then, afore laughing manically, "Well aren't you lot a bundle of laughs!"

Turns out he got himself into the middle of a drug den, a very large one, with many uncorrupted people to kill so many pure souls to consume...

Alexander wore a black hoodie and dark jeans. The sun had gone down and he had been watching these people for the past week off and on. Learning how they operate, he summed there to be over twenty people in that building. Their souls not corrupted by sin but their minds corrupted by evil. A perfect target. He knew that they relied on weekly delivery's of chemicals and ingredients from smurfs and other suplyers. A suplyer who was just about to arrive at the back door, he could not let that happen now could he?

He decended from the sky and impaled the man with a sword, the deliverer was so surprised at this he did not even scream as the sword Anarchy pierced his spine. Alex looked at the duffle bag the man had on him. Full of cold medicine and other compounds. Then he retrieved his own duffle which he had hidden not very far from there. He hid the mans body underneath some trash bags and decided that he should really complete this delivery. Tossing back the mans soul and gulping it happily he took his hefty bag with him and knocked on the door.

A man opened it, a man who had just taken off a gas mask. "Hey your late, come on give me the bag now your just in time with the stuff to let me finish the batch." Alexander did so happily, knowing that the kitchen in the back would be the perfect target. For the duffle he handed over was loaded with black boxes. Black boxes that no matter how hard the men would come to try would not open. Twenty eight of these boxes that were each as powerful as a landmine and as controlled as a bomb.

He made his quiet get away and skulked out to the front. From there he slipped on his long nosed mask, and turned around to watch the firewor- Who the hell was that!? Why were they getting out their guns!? This guy was going to ruin everything. No you precious fools, huddle next to the kitchen in the garage! Damn it! He thought. He knew he would have to detonate the bombs much sooner. He started walking up to the entrance with a pissed look on his face. He was eight meters behind Drake and not making a sound.

Drake swung his satchel around his body and stopped it when it was at the front of his body. He reached in and pulled out a curious looking puzzle, which he then began to toy with. The men looked at him as if he were playing some kind of joke, as if he was mad not in the maniac way but the kind of way that would truly be politically incorrect to describe. They lowered the guns and were about the shoo the blue haired idiot away, when the puzzle suddenly clicked. It flashed, again and again, and Drake threw it, deep within the building.

Firstly, the puzzle was a bomb, a large one, a shaped charge of Drakes soul wavelength, molded into the shape of a Rubics cube. This puzzle exploded in them middle of the den, killing four men out right, and stunning the rest, long enough for Drake to dart in and start collecting the souls into his satchel. Two smaller explosives formed in his hands, and he was ready to meet head on any who dared attack him. His deranged laughter could be heard even over the flames and noise of splintering wood and the screams of those in surrounding houses.

Alexander watched as the mad man dashed in and started blowing them up. Holy crap, were there others like him!? He was realy tearing into those guys, well he had to blow his load before things stopped getting interesting so he snapped his fingers as his hair was blown back by the first of Drakes bombs an-

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The entire garage exploaded, aided by the highly explosive gasses within the room the bombs were able to blow half the roof off. The garage was connected to the living room by a single wall which could not handle the pressure of all the bombs going off. It burst open killing a number of heavily armed men standing and sitting next to the couch. Flames would shoot out of all but the windows in the bed room and bath room over. He had instantly killed eight people working in the kitchen and had heavily injured three people in the living room.  One was missing a leg. One had third degree burns. And the other had splinters in the back of his head which may have been piercing his brain. Many others through the room would have burns on them.

Alexander decided that it would be best if he skipped out on the remaining firefight in the other room as he vaulted over a window pane that was now burning hot and missing it's glass. He entered the flaming former drug kitchen, sure that all of the poison fumes had been either blown out or blown up. He opened his mouth and allowed the souls to fly into his mouth. The souls flying to him would be seen from the hole, but it would be hard to actually get an angle on him.

Alexander made another black box and held it in his left hand, in the right he held a pistol.

"Eh?" Drake had received a shower of splinters and other debris, all narrowly missing his flesh, though some ended up tearing up bits of his hoodie. "Eh!?" He shouted up though the massive hole left in the ceiling of the cellar. "If I'm down here then who blew up the upstairs!?" Drake was very confused by this sudden turn of events and dropped the two bombs right there where he was standing, as he was attempting to get a better view up into the higher floor. These two bombs rolled across towards the two closest men, just by chance, and stopped right next to their feet. Another pair of explosions sounded the end of these two lives, though not instantly. They would bleed out slowly, though their missing limbs. Drake created another pair of bombs, completely automatically. "Oi! You up there! Who the hell are you, blowing up the house I decided a few minutes ago to blow up?! The audacity!" Drake walked away from the massive hole as not to provoke the person into dropping any surprises on him; the explosions would not harm him, but the building would collapse with one more large explosion like that. As he was walking towards the exit, he slapped two men with the bombs he was carrying in his hands, blowing off their heads instantly. His sleeves were obliterated in the blast, and the rest of his clothing singed. He replaced his bombs with the souls and shoved them into his satchel with the rest.

"Hey!... Call me Black!... Yeah I was going to blow this place up for about a week. You pick good targets friend these scum deserve to all die." He yelled back through the hole. With no one powerful enough to stop him the Kishen walked out of the now huge hole in the garage leading to the living room. He shot the three who he had wounded clean in the back of the head. Execution style. Then he hopped over the hole, floating a bit in the air to get across the gap before he kicked in the door and saw a man on the toilet. He yelled out and tried to shield himself with a copy of his local newspaper but he got shot in the heart twice and once in the head.

Then he turned around to the closed door leading to the final room, it was locked and blocked with something. Likely a wardrobe. "You aint getting in ere!" Said one voice behind the door. He heard snickering from another and the sound of a gun being loaded. "No worry's! I don't need to." He slapped his small black box on the one remaining stable structure of the house. Before walking away the four souls of the people he had just killed flying to his mouth. He heard two more explosions near the exit before another bang at a much more critical location. He ran for the back door and dived out of it. He caught himself with his flight and landed gently. The remaining building collapsed with the two Kishin outside. Alex opened his mouth one more time to allow the souls of the final two victims of his to fly in.

He looked into the eye's of Drake before he stood up from his crouched position. "Hey. Well.... That went well. As I said, you can call me black. Do you have a name stranger?"

"Drake." He replied simply, before sitting down on the floor and opening his satchel. He only managed to salvage 6 souls. He ate these one by one as he spoke. "You should slow down with the killing, Black because it's just no fun the way you systematic killers do it." He popped the last soul into his mouth and chewed on it for a while, before swallowing. He stood up after the 'meal' and turned away from the stranger. "Should I meet you again, I should expect that you savour the violence." He took off the remnants of his hoodie and threw it into the wreckage of the house. His shirt was pretty much undamaged, expect for the short sleeves being singed. "Do it the dirty way, and let them bleed!"

"Meh, I might have gone for that. The trouble is I really do hate getting shot. I am sure I'll see you later Drake. If you want to see me again well... Come bye Death City. And try the coffee. Bye mate." Alexander said as he raised his arms and rose up into the sky. He would get very high, the noise of police sirens getting closer. Then he would shoot off back to Death city.