But we were damn hungry. Our stomach wasn't grumbling. It was screaming. like an Arcani beast who hasn't eaten for 3 weeks, tasered, stunned, attacked, and chased after by a group of Arcani hunters for 5 days, then have her daughter kidnapped, sold, cooked, and eaten.

Anyways, it was 7 a.m.. The shop was still closed, and there were 3 Tikbalangs running around in each of our stomachs, throwing tamper tantrums, waiting to be fed.

"Lance, you know what you need to do.", Whisper signaled.

"Just as they do in the drills Whisper?"

"You don't need me to reconfirm that with me Lance. It's basic protocol for us Arcani hunters! Now go do as our protocol instructs!" Whisper

commanded impatiently.

I took the Fostech Origin Shotgun, the Fostech Next Generation Rifle, the Fostech Baby Boomers Machine Gun, and the Fostech Gen X, Y, Z Sniper series along with the little Fostech Millenial Telescope attached on top of all the other Fostech generations like a leech.

I then arranged all the Fostech babies in a neat row and simultaneously fired all of them at the shop windows'

"BOO YEAH!!! NICE JOB LANCE!!!", Whisper cheered in delight.

The windows shattered into pieces, all the shop owners and bystanders cowered in fear, and we marched inside with a look of victory on our faces as we take whatever food we wanted to take and Whisper grabbed a Draft beer and emptied it in one gulp as she remarked, "Wow... It sure pays off to be an Arcani Hunter. Free foods, respect, power, fame,