In Locke's eyes, the mobsters did not deserve a single ounce of pity.
He did not care whether or not they were under the ketchup's influence. After all, if they were truly out to get more ketchup from Armstrong, they would not have attacked the houses and stores nearby.
They were only using their addiction as an excuse to carry out their sinful desires.
Locke refused to forgive them.
In just a few minutes, Locke had sent most of the mobsters back to meet their maker.
The two survivors' legs buckled. Their bodies slumped backward, and the coins they had stolen earlier was scattered across the ground.
Locke was like the Grim Reaper to them, and it scared them out of their wits.
"This is the money I just robbed, it's all yours! Don't hurt me!"
"Please, we just want to eat ketchup! We didn't do this on purpose!"
Hiss... !