“Eh, ya know, the usual. Just turned a post office into an abattoir.” He laughed sardonically, looking back at the fruit of his labors. Quite the macabre scene: desks, walls, and glass doors soaked in blood with printing appliances smashed down onto minced corpses while other bodies were sprawled in agonizing positions. He even decided to kill a man with a pencil, the point jammed into his eye socket. “‘Course they were crooked. Not like I’d slaughter a bunch of civvies.” Maybe, but would you put it past him? “So, whaddaya want? This ain’t a courtesy call is it? Does da lownley widdle captain miss his buddy Winchester?” He mocked Drake in an over-the-top kiddie voice, before putting aside his cleaned Chainsword and began working on a sidearm.