The Nightman just blinked at Horror.<br/><br/>"That's quite an arsenal that you can create. I suppose just...have some fun. Just no plagues. From what I read about this...Hooters...they are notorious for having diseases of their own. We want fun, not overkill. "<br/><br/>The Nightman pulled a portal device from inside the infinity void encased in his arm and set it down in the room. A purple oval swept up from the device and a rippled image of the Hooters could be seen flowing in front of them. He placed a leg into the portal and turned back to face Horror, "And as far as finding out who we are, talk to me after we have enslaved this miserable continent. Then we will have all the resources we need to find out who we are," and then disappeared into the portal.<br/><br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~<br/><br/>The Nightman emerged at the doors of the Hooters, where Sark was already waiting.<br/><br/>"Welp, let's not waste anymore time...shall we?"<br/><br/>The Nightman pulled a dazzling obsidian sword from his wrist and kicked in the double doors and ran full speed into the lobby, before suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. His gaze fell to the floor, to a pair of tiny white tennis shoes. His eyes carefully traced the set of pale, close shaven legs attached to them, followed closely by a set of voluptuous thighs attempting to escape with their lives from a pair of startlingly tight orange shorts. His heart began to race a bit as his eyes wandered over the exposed mid drift, left exposed by something that barely passed as a tank top. A smirk appeared on his face as his eyes found a full chest, nearly as inhumanely restrained as the set of thighs that had held his attention moments ago. Sweat began to appear on his brow as he found a collar bone, which surprisingly was situated under a lining of feathers.<br/><br/>The Nightman began to change from arousal to confusion as he allowed his eyes to make contact, and was confronted with a "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO," and a ruffling of feathers. His eyes were met with those of a barn owl. He trembled a bit, wandering why these were not the women that the internet had shown him so generously. Looking around the restaurant, he found all the women to be the same. Sirens from the neck down, night fowls for the rest, hooting commands at one another and their customers (who seemed to not be phased at all). He glanced at the menu in her hand and noticed the real name of the restaurant, "WHOOTERS." As his world was shattered, so was broken neon "W" on the sign out front, which came crashing to the ground at that instant.<br/><br/>He raised his blade, overcome with anger, and called back to Sark.<br/><br/>"So....I was hoping we would be able to atleast get some passable slaves from this invasion..but...trust me...just kill them all."<br/><br/>He rushed at the hostess and took her head clean off in one swing, releasing a puff of feathers in the process that tickled his nose and caused him to sneeze. NPCS...uh...Customers and waitresses began to panic and hoot all at once and chaos erupted into a restaurant that soon became filled with blood, feathers, and regurgitated field mice.