I'd very rather not be Lukewarm (we have stuff about that too) but I guess I'll just do nothing.
You don't want to be a fairy? Come the hell on Whizz.
IC:
Thomas stood beside some rather short fellow, named Ronald. Honestly he didn't like the stupid black look of his eyes, and wasn't too certain he liked this whole killing the angels business. Mark had told him so much BORING stuff about angels, demons, blah blah blah. His father had always been a steadfast believer in God and angels, his mother the same. He believed. Of course, he wondered if God helped his dad, the abusive son of a- Ronald dug a knife into his ribs.
"Just because I can heal doesn't mean I want a wound all the time."
Ronald took a machete and hacked at Thomas's head, at which Thomas blocked, (at the loss of a few fingers) and punched Ronald with his other hand, the muscles in his arm altering so much that it snapped Ronald's neck at the punch.
Thomas picked up his three fingers off the floor. Ronald had stepped on one. Thomas sighed and stuck them back on, the skin regrowing over it.
He heard a clap to his left.