I got your killer whale.

Aresenn's thoughts were as muddled as the chaotic scene around him. He barely registered Iscariot's arrival, her timely distraction more of a passing acknowledgment in his mind than anything else. He was too focused on the whale, on the overwhelming feeling of rage pumping through his veins. Aresenn was fighting not only for survival but also for dominance. Over the fucking whale.

The idea of being bested by some blubbery sea beast was laughable, and Aresenn found himself grinning ferociously as he dodged a flailing flipper. The arrival of more Syndicate members spurred him on, each new fighter adding to the chaos that was rapidly tipping in their favor. With splayed jaws he fought for another hold on the sea beast, aware of a grim satisfaction as his teeth sank into the slick, rubbery hide. His grip was firm and resolute, the blood tingeing his teeth a dark shade of crimson. The taste was repugnant, sour, and gelatinous; it reflected the hostility welling within him.

"Aresenn Praetor"