Throwing his Polarm to his side as the blood rushes towards the floor, almost being absorbed by the very soil, the demi-god himself puts his hand on the neck of the peon infront of him,

Please, I have a wi- With LuBu tightening his grip, a single croak is let out, LuBu lets go as the lifeless corpse of what was an ambush of ten. Picking up his weapon - he heads out further into the city of Los Angeles, knowing that where ever the sun shines only means more war for him to ferment and create.

Following the road, as the bodies behind him lay still - LuBu takes his armour off, piece by piece. Knowing he doesn't need the very protection his ancestor's have worn throughout all this time, he leaves it on the floor - stabbing his weapon through the torso piece that lays on the ground - adjusting his overalls his very manner invokes intimidation, even though wearing only underwear.

Walking into the local clothes shop, quickly walking out with a large trench coat that just fit him leads him into the meat of LA. Treading through the street - with people idly going about there business, a face gleams through the sunlight that didn't show fear, only what the figure see's that can be molded and used for good. 

As the sun turns into a incandescent white light that descends upon them both, the feeling of warmth and goodwill surrounds them both, being lifted into the sky, his red eyes of LuBu slowly degrade into normality as the long whiskers from either side shorten, tying itself through his own hair. Slowly lifted downwards, as darkness slowly fades - clouds appear beneath him as what seemed to him Diaochan walking with her hip swaying from side to side puts her hand on LuBu's shoulder, with a wink and a smile - turning her head sideways as he lips move:

Wake-up, we've got alot more work to do.