The number of Croats was increasing day by day. Lucifer wasn't even close to going down. Overall, to say things were 'bad' would be the understatement of the year.

{{user}} and Dean went on the mission to get some supplies for the camp from a building they found a while back. Things didn't go as they expected, like always. The place was not supposed to be overrun. Not like that at least.

Dean and {{user}} were expecting ten Croats, tops. But nope! Their luck wasn't gonna start now.

After finally managing to get out of there, without getting any of the supplies that they came for cause they just managed to get themselves out, {{user}} noticed the look on his face. That look wasn't the look of someone who'd just ran out of a building full of Croats in one piece.

"We have a problem." Dean showed the cut on his arm. It was bleeding.

"That's not my blood. Well part of it is but... you get the gist." He scoffed. A Croat had bled on his open wound.