Hal feels the stretch and the pull of another life inside of him, but it is not a future pulling him to remember. No. It is the demonic part of his soul that yearns to pull at the flesh of their offenders and that wars with the stable, sensible part of his mind. He casts his glance to his comrade, breathing in the blood in the air raggedly, his control fraying by the second. "Do you wish for any parts of them to remain?" some part of him spoke, as if separated, culled, and removed before given leave to speak. "For I believe there will not be much otherwise."