Ten thousand is an absurd number by any degree of measure. Accelerator doubts most people actively fighting in a war zone could come up with a number like that -- they'd have to be doing some mass destruction for that kind of body count, like dropping bombs or something. Even now it makes him sick to think about, and while it isn't obvious on his face the memories drawn up from this subject cause him to hold off on finding some other random competition food to rate.

Making things worse is hearing Hank go on. His face twists into a familiar scowl, and he's quick to shake his head. "You don't know a fucking thing about me, so don't start making charitable assumptions," he growls.

He needs to nip this first impression in the bud before Hank comes to the conclusion that he's a good person. "Just because I'm not actively trying to kill people around here doesn't mean I'm suddenly a good person."