The arrow smashed into his shoulder, ripping through it and out the back.  Wrath's angry voice echoed in his head.  --Let me out!  Let me kill her!--  Greed sighed and grabbed the base of the arrow, shoving it through and out the back of his shoulder.  The bone and muscle would heal eventually.  His eyes looked at the bow with new respect.  "I'm impressed."<br/>--You want it.  I know that tone of voice.--<br/>"Alright, fine.  Never let it be said Greed doesn't honor his contracts."  He looked over at the whimpering Moka.  "And if I didn't have the world's greatest whimp chattering away in my head, I'd show you all just<em>what</em>shooting 100 arrows would do."  He gave a nasty grin, which faded as a myriad of scars and tattoos erupted out of his body.  The wound vanished, and his eyes darkened.  His body seemed to tremble.<br/>Jude tested his arm.  "Well, at least you didn't kill him."  His face was emotionless, like an executioner's mask.  Stripping was easy, since all he had was his hastily-grabbed shirt, pants, and sneakers.  He did it simply, without any wasted motion, his breathing as slow and even as if he were a meditating Buddhist.  "See?  No weapons.  And I wouldn't know what to do with one if I did."  Even the way he raised his arms was different from Greed-- they went forwards, palms up.  There was a small, brightly-colored book held in his left fist:<em>Baby's First Grimoire</em>, by Haman.  One of the Amazons took it.  He twitched, but she casually flipped it open with one hand, laughed out loud, and said she'd return it when they untied him.