Checking the new scorch mark on his right hand, Luft stepped in to the backyard separating him from the home of a civilian prosecutor. In the night, he could see two guard-dogs near the backdoors. Before they could bark, he threw over a few cheeseburgers he'd picked up on the way over.

That this trick so often worked had amused him at one time, but now, he figured most humans were just good enough at their job to not get fired; apparently this applied to animals too. Careful to avoid any sight from the windows, he made his way to a side-door of the house, and Sleight-of-Hand's skeleton key formed in his hand; something that Houdini might've used, he figured.

Pressing it gently in to the lock, he unlocked it and opened the door -

- three flaming Boudoir-bullets entered his chest; he staggered to the side -

- as the next volley erupted out of the door, bullets & scarabs flying out of the door in swarms; he reached his hand over to the door -

- but pulled it back as another 30 bullets burst out of the door; he heard the dogs barking now.

"Reload!" shouted Mia's voice inside, and he put his hand out again -

- and a Boudoir-bullet went through his palm; he managed to slam the door shut before the next volley came, shouting for Sleight-of-Hand as it closed -

- and he reappeared within one of the hall's doorways, but two walls of ice surrounded him. Flabbergasted, he stared at the wall of ice blocking him from the closed door ahead before putting his fist through it. Shards of ice slit his wrist, but he opened the door and slammed it shut again -

- reappearing outside of the front door. No time to waste, he turned and rushed away as fast as he could, dodging underneath another swarm of fire bullets that nearly took his head off.

"C-Clever little fuckin' dykes." he muttered, relevantly.

Taking another cheeseburger out of his pocket, he threw it back and grunted as he fled a few blocks over. He knew they wouldn't chase him; frustrated, he looked back at the prosecutor's home and began stomping back towards it, stopping himself a few feet in.

'Get your fucking head straight.' he thought and grunted, turning back to walk away again. Sleight-of-Hand's mask disappeared from his face, and he realized that the illusion who should've appeared when he slammed the door hadn't triggered. This was bad, he thought: they must've known it disappeared if a Revenant touched it, like Worldwide's ice.

As it was with many failures in his life, determination & frustration were mixing in him. He knew the other five's deaths wouldn't reflect well on him: he needed something to endear himself to the family. He remembered a few nights ago, when one of his men had found out the hotel the other two students were staying at, and their room. Night attacks against students were discouraged, as knocking down the door usually woke up someone who'd blast their guts across the hall before they could step inside.

Still, his wounds were beginning to clot, and there was a family doctor he would visit tomorrow. Sleight-of-Hand's mask forming, he made his way over to their hotel, and up to the stairs, outside, to their hotel room. It seemed an unlucky fact to him that students usually stayed at places like these without key-card locks, and one fortunate for him.

Sleight's skeleton key appeared in his right hand. Pressing it gently in to the lock, he glanced to his left before pressing the door open, annoyed at how it creaked. No light was inside, but he heard the woman in the bed furthest from the door start stirring; Sleight-of-Hand's serrated deck of cards formed in his right hand, and as he threw a four-of-a-kind in to the nearest bed -

- he knew even in the dark he had hit four targets, and in the next instant -

- one Manufacture rod hit his stomach and he folded like a chair, and before the second hit his spine -

- he swept back outside and slammed the door shut -

- reappearing in another hotel room a few doors down; he unlocked it, opened it, closed it and reappeared in another room a few doors down. He didn't hear whatever the woman's reaction was before he was off the hotel's lot, and Sleight-of-Hand's mask disappeared as he walked around the corner.

Looking down at the scorch mark on his right hand, he was annoyed that he hadn't been able to touch that kid with it. Determination & frustration again.

Still, he was grateful for some success. He knew how Sleight-of-Hand changed his face meant that he was, mostly, unidentifiable, but he wondered how he would deal with the three others left. He knew that he would likely have to deal with three at once, and while he would eventually need to recruit more soldiers, he was not a man who enjoyed asking for help.

He stopped at a nearby gas station, washed up in the bathroom, and went back to his bar for a spare change of clothes. On his way back home, he decided to buy some chocolates to apologize for coming home late.

When he got back to his house, his girlfriend was sitting on the couch walking television. Hiding the flowers behind his back, he walked over to her, and as he crouched over to kiss her, realized he still had a Boudoir-bullet in his side. Turning his wound away, he offered her the chocolates and was flabbergasted when she pushed them away.

"Where have you been?" she said.

He crouched a bit to hide his wound. "Where have I been? I thought I told you I was staying late." He noticed the news was talking about a dead student, and tried to conceal his lips turning slightly upwards. That, at least, had gone well tonight.

"What are you looking at?" she said, glancing back. "Oh. Yeah, someone up and killed one of those students that were here. C'mon, you gonna take a seat or what? Why were you out so late?"

"Baby, I just got home, I need to wash up." he said. "I'll… tell you after. It was hectic, real hectic."

"So hectic you weren't even there?" she said and he paused. "Yeah, I called them up, at your bar. They said you weren't even in."

Of all the women he could've dated, it had fallen upon Luft for one like this. "I was out. Alright? I was--"

-- she stood up and went over to him, and his hand went over his wound. Her eyes traveled down to the blood seeping from it; whether she realized this he did not know.

"…are you in to something?" she said. "You know, you never did tell me how you ever got that bar in the first place."

"I gotta explain everything I do to you?" he said. "Baby, I told you you're a questioner, you'd be more comfortable if--"

"--I've been with too many men like you who think they don't have to explain anything to me, like I'm just some coat rack you can come home to. Luft, I swear, all I'm asking for is a bit of honesty. Christ, I've been so fucking stressed lately and you show up like this, and…"

As she continued, he looked off to the side, and thought of how too many people were only happy playing a part determined by someone else. This acceptance of the self led to superiority, so he had no desire to play as a criminal boyfriend. He walked out.