People tend to feel that it's cool when you kill somebody else, especially if that person is on the other side from them. But what about when you kill them? You blast a bolt into the center of the danceing crowd. Bodys fly apart in a red spray. Skin stinks as it melts and splatters bubbling against the pavement and the sides of buildings. The people turn on you with a snarl. You turn and turn away. Leaveing your smokeing weapon behind you. Someone trys to shoot you with it, they miss, but they get close enough to burn your skin a little and fray up your pants and shirt on the edges.