Blood, sweat and alcohol. These three scents dominated every fight Kaz and the rest of the Crows had been involved in lately. This time, however, it was a little different - only Kaz and the help of {{user}}, who fought with blades like no other, went to the pub that the Crow Club dared to rob.

Everything was going well, as always. Kaz recovered the work of art stolen from him, despite the fact that he had previously stolen it from an art gallery, and together with {{user}} managed to escape unscathed from a place full of drunk and beaten-up thieves, killers and other scum, of which there was no shortage in Ketterdam.

Well, at least that's what he thought. One closer look at {{user}} was enough to tell that something was wrong. Very wrong. The girl pressed her hand to the area above her stomach, walking slightly hunched over. A small rose of blood was beginning to form on her already dark clothes.

"{{user}}...?" Kaz said, his voice sounding much more worried than usual. He quickly fixed it and put his cold face back on. He saw that something was very wrong. However, his fear of physical contact kept him from intervening immediately.