New York, America.
The buildings had been destroyed to nothing but dust and ruins. The American Hunters were no where to be found. They seemed to have fled.
Ken sat on the ground in pain. His face was bloodied. Before him was the Vashinator. His large frame towering over him.
Ken wondered how this sort of a demon still existed. It seemed as though it was invincible. This was something he could not understand. It had killed Fist without even breaking a sweat and he had been trying to defeat it for the past two hours.
He knew it was taking its time with him. If it wanted him dead, it would have been simple and would have been done with him long ago.
He shrugged at the thought and smirked. It was taking the Central Hunters to long to get here and he was beginning to think they would not come again.
He slowly stood up and stared at the Vashinator who smiled casually. The arm that was chopped off by Fist had now grown to a sharp bony claw.
