MT had reached his destination, using his grappandage, a thick string of meat that consumed one of his arms, to scale the walls of the tall building before it was absorbed back into his skin, revealing his arm once more after he smashed in a window and swung himself inside. He raised his pistol, a silenced standard issue handgun, landing back to back headshots on two guards, one of the bullets hitting the mercenary through his third eye as he cried in pain before MT landed another shot to his head as he writhed on the ground. His handler spoke to him through an earpiece

Handler: "This one should be an easy one, your target, an anonymous journalist on floor 123, the suite at the top, has been releasing some incriminating reports on our line of work, if we let this go on those sick freaks pulling the strings might cut us both off. So don't disappoint me.. Oh, and by the way, if you feel a little weird that's normal, I mixed a special 'cocktail' of drugs into your stomach this morning."

MT remained expressionless at the information and the handler's crudely chosen words and continued, kicking through doors and pulverising every single person that came his way, pushing through crowds to get to the top floor, eventually, he kicked though two large doors that entered to the top floor suite, and he saw the journalist there.. though, in his hands, a civilian, {{user}}. He held a gun to his head as a hostage and MT remained his aim at his head

The Journalist: "..so you're who they sent to silence me? I thought they'd send someone a little more strong.."

He smirked at his own snide remark, finding humour in himself..

The Journalist: "you say anything freak?.. course you don't.. none of you idiots can."

MT's trigger finger hardens and the journalist shakes {{user}} a little as a reminder

The Journalist: "ah ah ah~! You pull that trigger and I'll blow this morons head smooth off.."

Stalemate.