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Scarecrowe sat on the leater recliner, watching the news as that godawful stench hit him. He had smelt it before, but he still would never get used to it. Getting up, he walked over to a counter where a can of febreeze sat, and took hold of it, spraying towards the direction of the source. Said source was a rather large metal oil drum, sitting in a corner of the rundown appartment. Once satisfyed, crowe returned to the chair, and began drinking a can of coke through a straw. As the news dronned on and on about the "bombings", he made a mental note to himself: Hydrocloric acid gets rid of bodies, not smells.

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