"You really think nothing will happen that quick?" He just smiled with narrowed eyes. Maybe Dale was right to be suspicious, but his inquiries had triggered some unpleasant memories that even he couldn't hold back. "Look around you, Dale. Look around you and tell me it's humanly possible to save people from all the chaos that happens here." Mason's voice was incredibly bitter now. His smile was only on his face, failing to reach anything else. "Look. Look and see how many goddamn superpowered metas are too obsessed with seeing who's the strongest to notice what they do. Look at every single private army and see how they do next to [i]nothing[/i] to protect innocent people." He was on a roll now. Gone was the passionate old man talking about his craft - this was someone almost completely different. He was angry. "I don't speak for these people, but I do know that they're smaller and next to nothing compared to those lot. They came here with me from a place that's civilized, unless like mess. Just like me, they're new. But at least they're bloody trying," he shot viciously. The hostility drained from his eyes. He regained his composure, took a breath and cast his vision to the ground in apology. "I'm sorry. I really am. You don't deserve to be on the receiving end of an old man's tangent." While he spoke in half-truths, all of his emotion felt genuine. Admittedly, Mason knew it was the realest thing he showed Dale.

The man received the words as he did before. He was a stone wall, but the words did crack the solid rock. It wasn't hard to imagine what he was saying. The murderous illusionist, a bar fight between Titans with electric fists, if anything broke out in the tavern, his wife was not built for combat. His hands clenched on his arms, but that was the only November during the spiel. Dale was a silent man during these matters. He was a murderer himself. But that was in the past, despite how it seems to haunt him in the present. He closed his eyes in the silver after the rant and took a deep breath before responding, as if gaining his composure. The grip relaxed. "We all have our fair share of troubles. I won't ask you about your leg, or your past. It's clear you have been hurt, physically and mentally, but don't you worry." He took the great hammer off his back, (I took your advice lmao, giving a bo staff to someone else.) and tapped the head against his palm with his dull eyes tracing its movement. "We all have something we want to protect. I'll do anything so that people won't have to feel the pain which I might later on, an excruciating pain." The bland eyes seemed brighter as he continued his talk, but, he they dulled as he took another deep breath. "But, I can't promise the best results. As of now, killing people for their crimes is off the list, unless I do it by mistake."

"It's all we can do to try," he sighed, lowering his head. "My wife was killed by someone who came from here." His confession, despite Dale not pressing further into him, was needed. Scout or not, he felt like the man would better understand if he knew. Besides, after getting riled up like that, the memories were plaguing him. It was only human to want something off his chest. "She worked as a security guard at a place called Cyden Industries. Apparently the organization was involved in some shady business, and got involved with the wrong people." Mason's eyes turned dark. "Have you heard of a man named Alex Wilson?"

At the mention of the wife dying, the hammer stopped tapping, the grip of his hands making his fingers white on the weapon. It was the only thing keeping the massive man from shaking. He feared the death of his wife more than the death of himself, of his business or his pride. His wife, was everything. Despite the seemingly deadly grip on the metal, it did not budge, only keep the man in place. Dale looked at his hands when he spoke, his head down to hide the fire now lit in his eyes. All he replied with was a "No."

"He also goes by the name of the Courier, amongst others. Was from another world, like most folk that come here, but eventually ended up on Amoridia." Amoridia - so that was where Mason was from. The man never mentioned his home by name, but whether it was important or not didn't register on his darkened face. "Cyden's backdoor dealings eventually caught up to them. The Courier brought a team of mercenaries to the place and... they killed everyone." He choked out the last few words. "Guard, civilian, law enforcement. Cut them down one after another. And even though my wife was an honest, hard-working woman who wouldn't ever hurt a fly unless she had to... That's why I support these men, Dale. That's why I scout and make job offers for them. Because all I see in a place like this is sick men like Wilson going unpunished. Exactly like him - no one making him pay."

"Sick bastárds... Well, I assure you, friend. You have swayed my heart, where I once thought it a boulder." Dale looked out the door to the street outside the cleaning store, not realizing how much time had passed. "I best be going, with my clothes. I wasn't paying attention to the time." The man checked his watch with a sigh, and placed the hand back in his pocket. "I don't need the shield. If anything, I'd rather earn it through my efforts than take a loan. Hopefully, you'll hear of a mighty hammer cleaning up the streets by then."

His eyes widened, the darkness in them clearing for a moment. In Dale, he saw hope. Naive, but still there. A hope that he knew that he was abusing in the end. For a good cause, maybe. "You're one of a kind, Dale. Most people around here would take a gift like that without question... but I see something different in you." [i]Here's to hoping I'm right.[/i] "I'll be seeing you, Dale. Hopefully with a Militia patch on your shoulder." [spoiler]End?[/spoiler]

[spoiler]End, though I did start spreading "The Hammer" name already. Dunno if you want him to stop some more people or not. [/spoiler]