Raice flopped his head.  They'd get the bitch.  They would.  But why?  He wouldn't promise SHIT if Merelli died, and he voiced it.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>Arget suddenly found himself on the ceiling, vertigo horrible.  The weight in his stomach, HORRIBLE.  That move had saved his life for an instant.  It had also made him sick as fuck.  With a choke, still in hangtime, the foxboy hurled, regurgitating the patient.  The half-digested patient, thanks to the drugs speeding effect - most of his flesh removed - screaming now - and knocking the bitch flat under his weight.  Arget saw his chance - not to run, but to end this to some degree.  He darted forward from the ceiling with his last instant of hangtime and fired as the guards looked up - one bulled leaving an exit wound the size of a baseball out one gards throat via his mouth.<br/><br/>"BANZAAAIII!" He grinned manaically, kicking off the dying, falling guard to attack, wrench in the offhand swinging as though it were a mere twig.<br/><br/>((I would like to postscript that as a result of his hasty actions, Arget now has a dislocated jaw and two broken ribs, left side.  His strength is not what it could be at the moment as well.))