The coppery stink of blood hits his nostrils a few seconds later, though a quick glance around the room reveals not<em>all</em>of them are his kills, as many are punctured by bullets in various ways. Still, the man with his head grotesquely leaking out of a hunk of metal, or the man impaled on metal wires, still weakly struggling, give testament to what, exactly, he can do.<br/><br/>The angel continues to stalk nearby, snarling at him. "I ought to finish you, myself, right now for what you've done."