[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/cRfcpSC.png[/img]
[b]High-Rise District (just barely across the river from the Eiffel Tower)

On the rooftops across from the Golden Shangri-La Hotel[/b]
[@Crusader Lord][@Unoedipal][/center]

[color=00a99d]"They're touching your stuff."[/color]
Roland had arrived early. Barely just missing the violence, but even a mind altered Berserker knew he was too late. Wait for Angelica. She would need to decide what to do with her castle. Her castle, now ruined by some greedy Saracen. But the men inside were not Saracens. Too old. They shouldn't be there, but they were. They weren't the attacker. He wanted to rip them apart, but he had been told to kill Rinaldo and Saracens, not citizens. And yet, they looked so much like Saracens. 

These men weren't servants. And they weren't masters. Angelica said they weren't an assassin, as an assassin would never have tripped security. Already he was detailing everything he saw. How they mishandled her beloved cups. How they hung around her windows. How they ran their hands through the remains of her home! He could so easily kill them before they had a chance to breath, but miss Angelica would be there soon. She would make the decision. They had to find who did this, rather than just fools who stumbled in. But if they broke a single glass, he'd break them in half. No, not in half! Into tiny pieces. Pieces of pieces he would litter all over the floor! FILTHY! DISGUSTING! UGH! THE WORST! His hand tightened around his sword, and if it were anything less than the perfect blade of Durandal it would have shattered in a moment. 

[color=00a99d]'Miss Angelica. Four of them. Not servants. Not threats. Assassin!? If assassin, coming after! Filthy! COCKROACHES! I SHOULD KILL THEM FOR TOUCHING YOUR FURNITURE!'[/color] It was only her words that stopped him each time. Ordering him down. She loved him after all. He loved her. His love made it easier to think, but it was still so far gone! One of the problems of throwing one's sanity to the moon, it was nearly impossible to retrieve.

But, Miss Angelica had a plan. A good plan! She said it was good! And they would find who did this to her home! THEY WOULD FIND THEM AND KILL THEM! That was the problem. That was the threat! They must be injured, why else would they have destroyed her home!? No body, either burying or seeking help. Two, maybe more? It wasn't his mind that said this, but an instinct. An instinct that seemed to break every problem down. Down into numbers he barely knew, but a feeling he got. A feeling of fighting more than one enemy.

When she told him to, he would hunt down her enemies. And kill each of them for what they did. One enemy at a time. One enemy at a time. One enemy at a time. One enemy at a time.