The return of evil

The fingers of a man who was thought to be damaged beyond repair twitched slightly, the breath of a man that had been incapacitated for a period of time he could not recall. Today, a man filled with utter venom and hate in his veins had awoken from his slumber. As fate turned out, hell would be denied a particular evil soul. The eyes of the SS-Sturmscharführer slowly open, a predatory animal look in his eyes. Almost instantly, Morphine sat up straight and tore out the wires that were hooked to him since he had been put into a coma by that goddamn paladin. A hand flew to the side, grabbing the nearest medical staff member of Millennium by the throat and forcing them off the ground. The German tightened his grip around the poor mans throat, speaking in a cold tone. "Mein uniform und equipment... vhere... are... zhey?"

"F-First locker on zhe right Sturmscharführer Morphine...!"

The Sargent-major flung the doctor across the room, a sneer coming across his face. Two things are what got the man through the comatose state. Hate and sheer rage. After slipping into the uniform he was accustomed to wearing, the faintest, eerie smirk crept across the German's face. "Ich bin wieder von Hölle..." (I am back from Hell.) A soft chuckle began to rise from personified evil. With any luck, there might be something to do at the hanger. Not even five minutes back and the madman was already ready to release the beast.

<-------- Exit Morphine to Hanger Deck