[Giovanni's voice comes smooth and cool over the sound of rapid gunfire as he levels both pistols at the UNA soldiers, scatters them with a shower of bullets. He whirls and twists out of their way, ducks behind the opposite wall, means to wait for them to fully emerge before making his next move.
What he wants is to converge on them with nails and teeth to rip and tear and rend, to punch right through their armored bodies, to yank out their hearts and hold them - red and glistening - in the palm of his hand.
But that isn't possible, not any more. Instead they'll have to play a different game.]
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[Giovanni's voice comes smooth and cool over the sound of rapid gunfire as he levels both pistols at the UNA soldiers, scatters them with a shower of bullets. He whirls and twists out of their way, ducks behind the opposite wall, means to wait for them to fully emerge before making his next move.
What he wants is to converge on them with nails and teeth to rip and tear and rend, to punch right through their armored bodies, to yank out their hearts and hold them - red and glistening - in the palm of his hand.
But that isn't possible, not any more. Instead they'll have to play a different game.]