Chapitre 116: The Vigilante's Story II

Drawing a leg back, Ragnar busted down the entrance of the kidnappers' lair, both doors making contact with one of the many traffickers inside with a stifled scream. Were they dead? Either way, Ragnar didn't care. No room for scum like them on this already ruined Earth.

"Who the fuck are you!?" shouted the man who was supposedly the ringleader. Tattoos, Caucasian, bald. About 5'11, seemingly somewhat well built. The jewelry on him indicated some strong profits at some point in the past.

"Ooh," replied Ragnar, following up with a gravely chuckle that made his adversaries raise their guns. Ten to one, handguns rather than automatics. He liked his odds. "I'm what you might call a nice, cold can of beat-your-fucking-ass like a drum at a rock concert."