...Yeah, Grog's fancy trick didn't really work out. He had time for five? Maybe six shots? Before falling face-first on the cold, hard concrete floor, breaking his nose as he landed. Fuming with a junkie's fury, he began to half-skitter in an attempt to turn belly-side-up, in order to at least have some sort of clear shot against the-

 Oh, wait. He's dead. Goody. Aztec dude shoved his big rock-sword-thing straight in Head Honcho's skull. In an instant, the majority of frothing fury and adrenaline that had been accumulated inside Grog suddenly vanished, leaving behind a heavily injured idiot, drunk and high out of his mind, but still somewhat pissed off.

 "Alright, gentlemen. That's a wrap. That was pretty brutal, Pravey. Yay, woo-hoo, great success and so forth. Now, can someone please get me the fuck out of here? I think my legs are broke."