[center][img=http://i.imgur.com/BbAAZAg.jpg][/center] [b][u]11:00 PM (Three and a half hours earlier)[/b][/u] Sloth was seated atop her throne, smoking and drinking away what her little slave Ash had brought her. Once the boy departed from her side, Angel reached out to catch his attention (hoping to score a beer himself), but went completely ignored. He only shrugged at this. Their leader went on and on, rambling something about some fight with the other gangs. Joining the Damned's side was particularly what stood out to Angel, as many of them, including their leader's right-hand man, were his own patrons for at least sometime before he joined with Sloth's crew. Seeing them again would be something interesting. Surely his presence there would help both gangs to establish some working connections. And then Sloth dozed off. Just like that. That chick had quite some talent. Angel leaned back in his chair, propping his legs up on the table and bouncing his feet to some rhythm. He thought he'd catch some z's too while they killed time, since both of the girls in their team already seemed preoccupied with something else. --- [b][u]1:15 (two hours later)[/b][/u] Seeing as Angel was inept at fighting, he charged in last after the others, scanning the entire area warily. Though Sloth had promised to teach him her fighting prowess, and Harry with at least some knowledge of how to hold guns, he still found himself almost useless with both. If this fight was nothing big, he would have hung back and watched (probably mimicking) Sam's moves; the cockyass lived up to his name of Pride, and Angel would have loved to share it. Rather than sit around or intrude on the others' battles however, he skulked around the back, push daggers in hand. Waiting to knock out an unwary thug, the dirty way. Another man stalked the shadows, ready to ambush one of the Sinners from behind. Angel was lightfooted however, and crept behind him without notice. "Sorry, buddy." He extended his arms out around the other man and jabbed his double push daggers into his chest, burying them deep. The man collapsed to the floor. Angel ducked after him. As the rest of his team fought amongst the other fourteen thugs among them, Angel instead took to looting the one he had taken out. After all, it was only fair game. He rose with a new wallet and pocket watch shoved inside his inner suit's pocket, and a smug across his face. Like Gluttony, Greed too bore a suit wherever he went, his outfit distinguished by a white top instead of full on black - but he wasn't afraid to pop himself in disgraceful positions. Sloth then ushered them into the compound, but any further plans were cut short. The arena rumbled. An explosion sounded off, and a caustic gas seeped into the room. Naturally Angel would have sniffed out whatever components made this strange caustic gas - it was nothing like smoke plumes from usual fires and explosions, at least from what he had experienced. But the impact alone had sent him careening into a wall. He was knocked out instantly, back propped against the wall and head hanging low. --- [b][u]2:30 AM (Present time)[/b][/u] [i]"...the fuck out of here. NOW!"[/i] Angel's head lolled in response to the sudden screaming, disturbed from his sleep. His head pounded with pain. "Not so loud..." Slowly he rolled and rose to his feet before Sloth could get to him, flicking his wrist as she approached. Pride groaned from nearby, catching Sloth's attention to him, while Angel's own turned to someone else: a girl with pinkish hair, having been knocked to the floor face first. He strode to her at a leisure pace, feeling for the mask behind his head as he walked. The thing was ceramic - he found himself awake against the wall though, knocked out before he could have even realized what had happened. But feeling along its surface alone disturbed him. The artifact appeared to be completely intact, unscathed even. It should have shattered upon impact, another reason why he was not much a fighter. "Emmy, hey, wake up." Angel gripped her cute little shoulders, nudging her gently but enough to earn a response with one hand. His other clutched the side of his own head. "You all right? We need to get out of here." Once everyone's lives were secure, Sloth quickly escorted them to their headquarters. Almost sluggishly Angel took to the chair he sat upon earlier, but couldn't even bother to place his feet on the desk before him. He leaned his head back this time, lolling it and blocking out Sloth's indignation. It was... painful, whatever the hell this came from. He hadn't gotten shot, nor was the area on fire when he had awoken. No one else seemed to have a clue either. As the others uttered amongst themselves, Angel rose back to his feet and stumbled towards the kitchen. He was sure to snag Joni's backpack with him. After running his hands through the contents, he plucked out a wallet with the kid's stash of money (probably not much), stuffed it in his pocket, and chucked the bag behind him. Though he didn't live there with Sloth, Angel still had his own mini chemistry wares - glasses, beakers, raw materials, and all - nestled in a corner on the countertop. Whether Sloth cared about where he left it never occurred to him. Especially not now, when his head buzzed with pain worse than any hangover he had felt. He pulled open a drawer and sifted through packs of ziplock bags, filled with multicolored powders. "Anyone want some ibuprofen?"