“You don’t know ShinRa,” Kadaj curtly replied. In matter of seconds the homeless man’s clothes seeped a dark crimson red. He gasped and gurgled, grasping at his throat with wide eyes. Blood poured from the crevices of his fingers as he stumbled to the ground. Kadaj took a step back to avoid the pooling blood. As the man continued to squirm and writhe on the cold, dirty, cement, the teen shook the excess liquid off his weapon.

“Enough blood for you?” He grinned.