Quinten Jameson
Quinten cursed in pain as the claws raked down his arm, leaving large oozes of purple in their wake. He spat angrily and turned, grabbing the clawed hand by the wrist and twisting it, holding the knife out towards him. “You should never have challenged me.” He growled angrily, eyes flashing dangerously. He heard a siren in the distance and felt a stab of pain in his forehead. He left go of the arm and drew a breath sharply. The knife fell from his hand as he arm went limp and his eyes rolled back into his head, leaving them white. His mouth gaped open for a moment. The wounds on his arms began to close over fast. He dropped to the ground and was covered by a dark purple force field. It was soul collection time.
His soul broke from his body and exited the forcefield. It was dark grey and made no sound as it moved. It was cloaked in a hooded robe, akin to some kind of grim reaper. He looked at Armin for a moment, cracked a grotesque smile and shot up into the air, leaving his body behind. It was pay up time for one of his deals. He wondered which one.







