[Img] http://i.imgur.com/awzuRbb.jpg[/img]

Sam was sitting on top of the previously won teddy bear, looking around at the battered, bruised group with a mix of concern and annoyance. This wasn’t supposed to be a difficult job, and his fellow sins shouldn’t have had to get injured. What’s worse was that he seemed to be uninjured and that status of being completely unscathed was as infuriating as it was incomprehensible. He had dived into the fight and taken a couple blows. He should have been sore and bruised and instead it looked like he hadn’t been fighting at all!

“Fuck sake. I need a smoke.” 

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew one of the cigarettes and put it into his mouth before he’d even gotten up. He was fiddling with the old zippo as he made his way to the door and had lit the smoke before he closed the front door. Outside was quiet as he took a deep inhale of the smoke, trying to calm his raging nerves. Everything had gone wrong that evening, and he felt at least partially to blame. He should have insisted Sloth leave some of them behind…Should have taken the lead…Should have at least gotten a fucking war-wound or something.

“Tch, god-damnit.” The smoke wasn’t doing enough. He started to pace as his temper boiled over. Everything had been off thus far. The entire fight should have been easy! He could have probably handled it alone, if Sloth had just told him to deal with it alone, without having to worry about Wrath or Lust or Gluttony or the other two…

“God Damnit!” He shouted out, as he slammed his fist as hard as he could into a nearby wall. The sound of a very painful ‘crunch’ rang both inside his ears and outside them. A part of him wanted to scream: the weak part. He didn’t scream out, but he did grunt in pain. The fingers of his right fist were bent at odd angles and the skin on his knuckles was cracked and bloody. The pain was throbbing and…

…The pain had already subsided. Sam looked down at his fist, only to see something bizarre. A strange black mist was floating out of the open skin: sizzling like a hot plate and smoking like a flame. He was worried his hand might catch on fire and felt his cigarette drop out of his mouth, where his jaw hung open. The wound should have hurt, but instead he just felt itchy and hungry.

After about ten seconds of the strange black smog emanating from his fist, the wounds were completely gone: and his fist was completely repaired. Everything seemed whole again, and if it weren’t for the bloody fist imprint on the wall, he’d believe he was hallucinating. 

“Ho-ly-Fuck.”

He reached for his belt and withdrew the unused knife from the fight. It was a keen, curved edge: enough to dice through meat and bone, if enough force was put into it. Curious as to what the fuck was going on, he ran the edge over his knuckle, only to see the black smoke re-emerge: thicker this time. It was closer to sludge and slime and the cut was healed up in a matter of seconds. 

“Holy fuck!”

He pushed his way back into the building, stamping the cigarette as he passed over it. He was eager to get inside, and the group would just notice the sight of Sam rushing inside with a strange smile on his face and a slightly bloodied, drawn knife.

“Guys, you need to fucking see this!” He was shouting: Oddly excited by the arcane display of healing. Just how powerful was it? Maybe he hadn’t hallucinated about breaking his arm after all…

…Only one way to find out.

“Seriously, watch this.” Without any further hesitation, Sam lifted the knife in his left hand and suddenly slammed it into his right palm. He clenched his teeth in agony as his hand became a sheath for the knife: but without letting up, he yanked the blade out. Blood dripped on the floor and, for a second: he thought that he was going crazy. A second of agony was enough to cause doubt to spring up in Sam’s mind. [i]’Am I going mental? Why isn’t this shit healing!?’[/i]

The heated sensation from before suddenly filled his arm, and the black smokey sludge exploded from both sides of the wounded hand: like so much oil. It sizzled audibly and Sam felt a sense of hunger and fill the pit of his stomach. Tiredness filled his limbs as his hand re-knit flesh and did away with pain. Three seconds was all it took for Sam’s hand to be fully repaired, and he clenched it into a fist before looking at the sins, a broad smile on his face. 

“Has anyone got some food? I’m really hungry, all of a sudden.”