Slade Wilson

Well, it's time to head towards the epicenter of this. This should be interesting.

Shit.

+Looks around for @NoirYamaki in the hangar.+ Hm.

These suicidal, shiny and chrome brats are a real pain in the ass.

+Dog barks+ I know. I know. I said no guns. +Barks again and mumbles under his breath.+

+The cars were kicking up so much dirt it created a hell of a sandstorm behind them. Slade catches up to the lead car and drives next to it+

+Drives straight for the sound. There was a black two door speeding away from a fleet of tricked out junkyard cars.+

-truck and drives down the rocky path of the cliff. The engines were getting louder as they got closer. Puts the pedal to the metal.+

Passenger seat, panting softly as it looked at its master.+ Ready to go to work, boy? +The dog barks back in response. Slade enters the -

+He sees a cloud of smoke and the distant roar of engines. This was a cue. Slade turned to his truck which had a grey Wolfdog sitting in the

+Stands on the top of a rockface looking out at the vast desert below. Using high-tech binoculars, Slade scans the horizon waiting.+

+Disables alarms. Disarms and knocks out guards silently leading to the almost impossible security holding cell of one @NoirYamaki.+

Helluva Trump Card.

My words exactly. +Slade whispers as he exits the lobby and presses the detonator. The penthouse explodes and glass and debris rains down.+

-what was underneath the card.+ "Putting my face on a card is suppose to scare me? You're a hack! You're fired!"