"All of them?" Brandon asked with a raised eyebrow. "Sure I'm new at this and maybe this is a naive question but how do we know that every one of these things deserves to die? And the club is a business, people work there. I doubt they're all monsters. We'll be putting them out of jobs. And who's to say the owner is even one of these things? I want to help Mary get her daughter back, not become a mass murderer."
Oh god, that reminds me of my college days when I stopped by www.doomworld.com on a daily basis. Doom 1/2 were getting awesome mods and total conversions out the ass at the time and I spent more time playing Doom than anything else. So I got a ban and a talking to (one of many) from the school web admin when I mistyped the url and left out an O. Let me just say that domworld is not about computer gaming...
Brandon nodded thoughtfully. "Yea that could probably work, we play there tomorrow night as a matter of fact. But I don't know about the whole scorched Earth policy for the club," he addressed this part towards Zach, "We play there a lot, it could end up hurting my band if the place goes under."
Growing up I knew a guy who had shot out of the windshield of his car and slid down a gravel road on his ass. His whole ass was pretty much scar tissue and it was possible to poke him with a pin and have him not notice.