BYOB (Bring your own bucket, cause I got plenty of blood to go around)

The old man brushed his hand in the air signaling the young man to go away. He had no interest in naked young men, he would much rather just read his porn. However he knew this guy would choose to fight. He opened his mouth to say something as he turned the page but then forgot what he was saying as he got to the cover girl of his magazine. What would be revealed to Mat from the dead body was a pitch black heart if the living weapon didn't count as flesh or whatever. If it did then there'd be nothing left.

Mat wasn't thrilled about having to take the life of an old man but honestly what is this old man doing here. The pits was a dangerous place for anyone much less some one like him. Then a thought hit Mat. He must be a master of masters. A man so strong and powerful that he fears no man, beast, devil or god. He must be a man that deserved to be feared and people should flee at his approaching foot steps. He must be a man that had taken thousands of lives. He must have truely been almight. He must have never met an Inakamono. Mat oppened his mouth to speak but instead of words it was more like a green flag dropping. The go sign. Mat moved so quick the butterfly like demons hanging off of him were thrown from the shock of it.

Moving in quickly at full speed, SS-rank, Mat spun the long arm weapon around one time before reaching the old man. Using a single arm in the attack, Mat aimed simply to cleave the old man's head in a single blow. The butterflys did their best trying to keep up as the trailed behind mat, fluttering about as butterflys normally do.

The old man looked up and by a fluke of luck slipped backwards as Mat would cleave at him causing him to flail slightly as his magazine would take his place. "Oi oi oi! my mag!" He rubbed his head slightly at he looked at the boy. "That was my favorite magazine too!" groaning slightly he watched the boy prepared to move if he needed, then again he could always forfeit if he needed too after all his nudie mags were far more important than some child boy. Only question was when he would do it. "Why ar' ya itch'n to fight me boy?"