Fraser let out a low hum, loud enough to sound like a buzz in the air. “Anyhow. What am I?” His fangs widened into a grin. “A shapeshifter, same as all the others you’ve killed.”

       His eyes flickered slightly at the word “killed”. There was a personal aspect to that word. For while Fraser may have been a murderer himself, at least he had probable cause. Whether a monster or not, he still had a motive. 

       Fraser took a second to adjust his leather jacket with a brown hand. “Isn’t that what your kind does? I doubt I’m your first savage to deal with.” His head tilted a little toward Grant, who stared almost traumatized. He hummed slightly, his tongue clucking between his teeth. “Your little D.A.W.N or D.W.N or whatever monsters have decided to call themselves these days.”

      Grant looked mildly offended. Fraser wasn’t very surprised. He might be offended too if someone called his kind monsters. He could laugh at that actually. Because that is what someone called his kind. Because in simplicity, his kind were monsters.

       “Your organization hasn’t disbanded in the last month, has it? I mean, that’d be a serious shock to us,” Fraser threw a look to Mirage who narrowed her eyes at him in question. “Considering how many of you we’ve slaughtered in the past fifty days.”

        Grant suddenly looked more angry, thrashing at the ropes with his wrists. Fraser couldn’t help but smirk slightly. He’d always liked getting under people’s skin.

         “I mean you’re hardly our first.” He laughed slightly. “So don’t feel too special.” He suddenly stopped, realizing the topic he needed to pay more attention to. “Anyways. What am I? That was the question, wasn’t it? What am I? You would know.” His eyes narrowed into black slits. “Seeing’s how you kill one every day.”