The sound of automatic fire being unleashed as well as the sound of metal and wood connecting with flesh and bone filled the air like a muderous symphony of blood.
Shinji Ikari was staring in disbelief from his safe hiding place as the Los Angeles gang christening themselves Street Thunder attacked the town of Gatlin, Nebraska in the US, having sworn the dreaded Cholo blood oath against the town's murderous children and adolescents who were responsible for the disapperances of many of their band who had through some hellish jest ventured from Los Angeles to this godforsaken place.
One gang member coolly trained a Mauser C96 with a suppressor attached to it and picked off charging young residents of Gaitlin one by one.
He wondered if these relentless people could stand up to the thing in the cornfield that the Gaitlin degenerates worshipped as a god or if they were simply going to put its lair to the torch and see if it could burn like all things who took on Earthly form and flesh from whatever sinister abyss they crawled out of.
Shinji didn't suffer from any pangs of conscience over having sacrificed his father to these people in this loop in order to ensure his own personal survival; neither did he regret having Asuka clean the sickle given him with her neck when a sudden bloodlust erupted within and his vision turned redder than her beautiful hair. When that faded Asuka had lost her head and that his sickle needed cleaning.
He did regret that he taken had Misato-san's life when they bound and mutilated her as sacrifice.
Now if only he could slither out of this hell on Earth before the Reiquarium converted to the children's cause found him or that any of the Street Thunder members caught sight of him.
Shinji Ikari was staring in disbelief from his safe hiding place as the Los Angeles gang christening themselves Street Thunder attacked the town of Gatlin, Nebraska in the US, having sworn the dreaded Cholo blood oath against the town's murderous children and adolescents who were responsible for the disapperances of many of their band who had through some hellish jest ventured from Los Angeles to this godforsaken place.
One gang member coolly trained a Mauser C96 with a suppressor attached to it and picked off charging young residents of Gaitlin one by one.
He wondered if these relentless people could stand up to the thing in the cornfield that the Gaitlin degenerates worshipped as a god or if they were simply going to put its lair to the torch and see if it could burn like all things who took on Earthly form and flesh from whatever sinister abyss they crawled out of.
Shinji didn't suffer from any pangs of conscience over having sacrificed his father to these people in this loop in order to ensure his own personal survival; neither did he regret having Asuka clean the sickle given him with her neck when a sudden bloodlust erupted within and his vision turned redder than her beautiful hair. When that faded Asuka had lost her head and that his sickle needed cleaning.
He did regret that he taken had Misato-san's life when they bound and mutilated her as sacrifice.
Now if only he could slither out of this hell on Earth before the Reiquarium converted to the children's cause found him or that any of the Street Thunder members caught sight of him.
