March walked through the decimated Imagineer camp, avoiding the moaning figures on the ground with disdain. He knew that these rebels wouldn't be able to attack right now, for they were too much in pain to move, let alone fight.
March scanned the grotesque twisted faces of the poisoned Imagineers, searching for his target. But he couldn't find…
And there he was, the rebel leader, curled up on the ground in horrible stomach-wrenching pains.
Seeing March approach, he let out a tortured groan, "No…"
"Oh, yes…" March crouched next to the man with a small smile appearing under his helmet, "You've been causing trouble, haven't you?"
"Mar…" The man started hacking violently.
March drew one of his cleaver with a sigh, "I'm sorry, sir, but orders are orders… You'd have been safer if you hadn't openly rebelled…"
"You… sick… monster…"
Setting his free hand on the man's feverish forehead, March silently put the blade against the man's neck and mumbled, "I'll make it quick."
The man gave one final rasping shudder before March beheaded him.