Hadrian rolled his eyes, letting a mutter of annoyance upon Adelaide's prompt. [i]"Putain[/i], I take offense to being called a Hashshashin."  The old vampire glared at the others, his eyes making gestures to start evacuating people. [i]I'll keep this guy occuppied.[/i] He gestured. "Ah well, you're kind of rude, you know. You explode a bar, call me filth, and then start demanding answers." Adrian lowered his stance, much like Ronin did. But it was all an act. He wasn't dropping his guard. Just some posturing to win time.

"That's some nerve." He shrugged. "But it's fine by me. I mean, in the time you're chatting me up, the firemen and rescue services will arrive, and your main targets will likely evacuate." He smirked. "But let me tell ya about the old man. He was Saladin's pissy rival neighbour. He was half crazy, you know. Some zealot branch of the Islam. But he was good at what he did. Psychological warfare."

He paused. "He would pick a target, send one of his zealots to kill him -and only him- in plain view. His favorite targets were crusaders. Cause you know, silly western infidels."

"And, heh, that's the funny thing actually." Hadrian cracked a smile. "hehehehehe, really funny, I should probably save it and not tell it. But what the hell..."

His stance resumed, as he eyed his opponent. "What if I told you I was [i]one of them[/i]? What if i told you I fought tooth and nail for the Holy City, alongside Balian of Ibelin, against Saladin? What if I told you my actual name is Sir Hadrian of Jerusalem, the Fallen, the One Who Hunts his Kin?"

He breathed in deep. "Do yourself a favour and cease all charades. I can waste all the time I want. Can you say the same? I think not. You've got no element of surprise by doing this. You can't fight directly with us, and moreover, you're just an idiot who gets high on other's suffering. You need a cool mind to be an assassin."

[hr]

"Are you really that dim, Eddie?" Dana hissed, still clutching her wounded hands. Her eyes dangerously narrowed. "Who the hell you think signs your toxicological reports..." Her eyes dangerously narrowed, until the pager on her tracksuit beeped.

"Ah for fuck's sake..." The doctor gritted her teeth. Apparently the explosions of before needed some forensic aid to process scenarios. "...this isn't over." The she-wolf harrumphed and picked up Porkchop, who somehow was now standing on all fours once again, before trailing off to clean herself.

[i]And it's the Silver Moon turf the one that got bombed. Greaaat. I'll have to face them again. Wonderful day this is.[/i]