With each step downstairs Hisame feels the pull of her sword like a leash around her neck; called like a dog to the wicked master's service. What power she has to refuse will diminish by the footfalls she takes toward the bloodthirsting brand and it only strengthens when they proceed through the hallway. It becomes strongest when they pass a dark, open room to her left opposite the kitchen; her peripheral catches the eyeless doppelganger in the doorway but she [i]feels[/i] its entry as blood becomes ice and vision fades to black. 

She halts and her face falls but only for a few moments before taking the necessary steps to stand behind Magnixx's sinistral side. How the desire to smile tickles yet expression remains indifferent; however what betrays the lie is the sheer glee glittering her gaze. At last the Nightwalker is free to feed and the only thing left to endure is arrival of the perfect moment.

Now the farmer stands before them with the shotgun raised at the chest of the towering king. Apparently his words disarm them while he lowers the weapon. The fear remains in the reply, thick in Southern accent. "I get by... Just makin' a run from town in mah truck." He glances at both of them. "You guys drifters? The fuck'd ya do to mah property?" He looks them up and down with a smirk. "You just get done fuckin' too?"

Hisame's left hand sneaks abaft and opens to beckon the Fateful Death into its yearning grip from within the unlit room. Her eyes move to Magnixx, carefully gauging his reaction to these subtle movements; she awaits continuing of conversation then commands the weapon to come, feeling its dry, tattered hilt in her hand and keeping its point facing her back. The other hand comes for a transfer of reversed grip. 

These clandestine actions are climaxed with a raising of the razor arc like an overgrown dagger, edge down; then it's driven toward his left lung in an effort to pierce clean through and make him breathless. From there she'll reinforce hold with her left hand and push down with all her weight to cleave through ribs, kidneys and intestines until the sword exits just above the pelvis in a slender carving of the torso. It rests at her side, its once repugnant surface now alive with swirling scarlet luster and drizzling blood onto the floor. 

So is the reaper revealed when Hisame grins with all her teeth and beholds the reaction to what should be a single perfect deathblow.