"Boom, headshot," Raul muttered to himself, clutching his SACS 5 tightly as he looked down at the dead Maneater in front of him, who was very clearly dead - his head having been brutally removed courtesy of the Billhook's buckshot. He'd run into the Maneater unexpectedly while clearing the house, luck had been on his side however, as the Maneater had been messily consuming some unfortunate soul who they'd already shot to death. Raul wasn't even sure if the Maneater had gotten a clear look at him before he blew it's face clean off.<br/><br/>Raul didn't spend too much time hanging around though, quickly checking the Maneater and his victim over for useful suppies. Nothing of use was to be found and while Raul briefly thought it might be worth stealing the G3K and ammo from the Maneater for purpose of being able to find ammo and spare parts for it easily, his shotgun was much easily resupplied - buckshot was incredibly plentiful ammunition. No gun store was ever without it, and police and military depots were often even more well stocked with it.<br/><br/>The wolf quietly made his way out of the building, pushing a few more shells into the Billhook as he went to top off the magazine once more, then slipped out into the streets. He needed to find some friends,<span style="font-style: italic">quick</span>. Being alone wasn't good for his nerves and there was safety in numbers. He hoped he might be able to find some fellow survivors in this residential area - maybe someone had held out in their home, or a fellow soldier had taken up residence as a base of operations...<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>A clothing store certainly hadn't been the wisest place to hide, but that had a certain appeal to Elias. For one, simply because it made little sense to hide in one, it also made little sense for the Maneaters to check in here for survivors - few if any of them seemed to care about style or fashion and he'd seen a few that had been almost naked, save for battle gear like tactical vests or kevlar body armor. The lack of supplies made it less attractive for scavenging from both sides, even if meant Elias had to live off what meager supplies he'd found thus far and what he could scrounge when he worked up the courage to peek his head outside and go looking.<br/><br/>That was always a big decision. All Elias had was a crowbar, which was nothing compared to the rifles the Maneaters had. Not to mention Elias didn't exactly have the physique to last very long in a close quarters conflict.<br/><br/>It also meant he had to pass the huge bloodstain near the door and check-out counter. He imaged whomever had worked the register had been killed on the job or something, or someone had fled in here like he had and died messily before being dragged back outside. He preferred the first thought, as it had far fewer parallels to his situation and his potential fate. The only upside to the grisly marker Elias found was that it dissuaded Maneaters from coming in a bit more - probably because it suggested all that there was to eat here had been done so.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>"Pathetic," Demyan commented to another Maneater as he patrolled around the Stadium slowly, his AK-47 swinging about lazily on it's sling, looking incredibly beaten up and dated next to his comrade's G3K. Demyan didn't care - it flung bullets, and it did so hard enough to kill most targets in a handful of shots if not less, which suited his purposes just fine. It wasn't like he bothered to waste ammo on the unarmed or those attempting to fend him off with melee weapons. It was<span style="font-style: italic">far</span>too fun to play with prey like that in a nice brawl to resist running in close and battering them around for a while before eating them. "They let themselves be rounded up like<span style="font-style: italic">cattle</span>. It almost takes all the fun out of eating them,<span style="font-style: italic">almost</span>."<br/><br/>His friend laughed and nodded in agreement.