"Now," [i]Jason began, turning around to look up at the smaller man, head hidden behind a helmet, two grey-silver eyes peering through a golden Plexiglas visor. [/i] "They're jus' fuсkin' pricks. Point meh ta 'em 'nd I'll add 'em ta mah hitlist, cuz I ain' havin' aneh o' tha' shiet, eh? Oh, no, fuсk tha'. Though, I assure ya; da Dojo folks don' do tha' shiet. Da folks who do are asses. Asses ta be fed ta da hounds 'nd torn ta pieces." [i]His voice was a lot more calm and.. normal now that he wasn't trying to reach and entire crowd - though it was nonetheless powerful and booming, with a rough edge and a mechanical accent to it.[/i]