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Denver had known from the start that this was a bad idea. He hadn't wanted to participate at all, but his low rank required him to submit to Bastion's wishes despite his own discomfort. Frowning heavily, the short wolf-dog kept shoving sticks into the hungry mouth of the amphibian. Pale eyes darted back and forth from the small wolf's hands to the turtle, realizing that this guy was actually trying to pull the thing apart. Horrified, Denver could do nothing but stare in distaste as the tail of the creature finally came off with a sickening rip. The red began to seep out, and the mutt let go of the stick, stepping back as Bastion continued to tear into the now assuredly dead creature. It wasn't long before Denver heard a sharp crack, and saw the Arbiter opening the thing up. It's insides were ripped to shreds, too, and now the dark shell of the turtle was even darker with blood. Red stains covered Bastion's hands, too, and Denver made a disgusted sound. "Jesus," he muttered, trying not to gag at the sight of the innards oozing between his superior's fingers. "I told you it wouldn't be fun after that, didn't I?"
The Associate crossed his arms and looked down at Bastion, wondering what he would do with the carcass now. The meat was surely horrible, but the shell could be useful, he supposed. What a bloody mess.
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