An ice cream truck was slowly cruising through town. It was a bit late for ice cream, but Roger was no mere peddler of ice cream: He was a street samurai, on patrol. Unlike the others, the samurai known as Destructo had very little online presence. He didn't care about fame or glory: He only cared about raw destructive power. He was hunting: He was looking for an oni to steal the mask of. He had the radio tuned to the Ronin station, and heard about a disturbance not too far from the graveyard, which he was just passing by. Jackpot. He turned the corner, and saw a big, four-armed oni down the street. He floored it, the jingle growing faster and faster as he screeched down the street, not seeming to care if he hit the Orobi, or perhaps trusting him to get out of the way. It looked like he was going to miss the creature. But then, he opened the window, leaning out of it. [color=f7976a]"YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!"[/color] Destructo snarled. Like other Samurai, he wore a helmet. His was a hockey mask. It hid his face, but anyone present could hear the sheer killing intent in his tone. In his hands, he had a baseball bat. Aluminum sprayed bubblegum-pink, with a massive, sharpened rail-spike welded to the smashing surface. He'd constructed it in particular for piercing oni-skulls in drivebys, which was exactly what he was trying to do. If it hit, it would have Roger's considerable strength backed by the ice cream truck he was driving at 60mph. [@Gisk] [@Gingerboi123][@rocketrobie2][@sassy1085]