Ron pointed out a man running around in a black-and-yellow outfit to his new friend. "Hey, Keith . . . who the hell is that?" The man was leaping across rooftops above them, and he realized that was the way he avoided most of the Reapers. So it was little wonder he had never seen him before, considering he was ordered on ground patrol with Keith.
A growling sound came from the black abyss underneath the red hood. "That bastard has been frying our gang for a few days now with his own lightning powers. The guy's freaking psychotic! He ambushes us when we're on our breaks!"
Ron shivered at the thought of such a terrible person. "Geez, what kind of guy just runs around and kills people without a thought?" Gripping his gun tightly, he then asked, "Should we shoot him?"
"No!" Keith grabbed the conduit's arm warningly. "That man'll hunt us down and crush us with cars before we can say "oh shit"! It's better to let the mad bombers take care of him; it's not like they have much to live for, anyways."
"Yeah, you're probably right." He remembered the first time he had met a mad bomber; the man had been staring at a wall for half an hour before suddenly cackling in a way that chilled his mutated soul. He hated those Reapers and tried to avoid them as much as possible, although that was hard to do when walking around the streets. "Those crazy bastards don't have any intelligence, anyways."
Little did he know that a mad bomber, appropriately named Spazz, had overheard their conversation, and he sat fuming against the wall before beginning to plot. Soon, he cooed his raging black heart, Spazz will have his day. Yes, he will! Giggling quietly before stifling it to remain hidden, he slinked off down the alleyway to locate some disgusting food for himself.
