[If he wasn't too exhausted to sigh, he would. Isn't it bad enough he died once at already a home? He has to die again in a game of murder, then RELIVE it later in another game of murder?

It's fucked up.]

...No. There was a group of them. They were called the Generals. About seven or so, I think. Two of them would hunt every night. Just happened to be my night. They thought I was the Gunsmith, or the Fox.