[i][b]BOOM![/b][/i]

	Mordechai instinctively leapt under a table and covered his head at the sound, squeezing his eyes shut-

	But strangely, there was no sudden, terrible, incinerating heat from the explosion that usually signaled an attack from one of the Kaftos tribes. He opened his eyes to see the winged man curling around what seemed a ball of fire, for licks of flame kept trying to escape through the cracks. But then they were guided in again by his wings.  

	Mordechi could see the man’s skin bubbling under the heat, quite similar to how he had seen many comrades fall before. The man was going to die, but there wasn’t much he could do about it now, nor did he need to. Though, the winged man was dying of honor, and Mordechi respected that; dying to protect his comrades. 

	But wait- no. Mordechi wasn’t his comrade. The newcomer most definitely wasn’t his comrade. Was then the winged man insane? Or was he just moving on instinct, like Mordechi so often did?

	He didn’t have much time to ponder, though, for suddenly the man disintegrated before his eyes. 
Where the man was curled a moment before sat only a pile of ash. 

	“[i]What[/i]?” he spoke aloud without meaning to. Then, meaning to, he asked the newcomer, “What the [i]hell[/i]?”