Under the irresistible allure of the moth's toxic pheromones, the mass of mindless patrons threw themselves at the mercy of the Radio Demon. They armed themselves with what ever they could find. Broken bottle, legs of chairs, anything that wasn't nailed down was turned into an improvised weapon. But they were no match for the overwhelming power emitted from Alastor. Not that Valentino expected much from his makeshift hoard.

The men who were standing at the ready clicked off their safeties and unleashed a hail of gun fire aimed squarely at the demon. Though in the mass carnage, it was unavoidable mowing down some of their clientele in the process. The club was smeared in their colors filling the room with the bitter scent of iron. With how things were going, Valentino didn't like his odds. But like hell he was going out like some punk ass bitch.