It was like stealing candy from a baby. All the humans that remained were easy pickings—stubborn idiots that thought they were better than everyone else, thought they possessed some kind of sense that protected them from what was going on. Or maybe they legitimately thought nothing was going on and everyone else was crazy.
They were so wrong.
They were wrong as the wave of supes descended on the city, they were wrong as Casimiro broke into their homes and slaughtered them without a second thought.
Men, women, children—it mattered not to him anymore. All that mattered was that call, that voice in the back of his head.
And kill he did.