07-04-2014, 09:26 PM
Some people had such a blinding aversion to authority that they would not even accept protection like a more rational person. The woman who had been lurking about the fire made a snide remark as he and Ivan moved past her, but he didn't spare her a glance. His work afforded her the opportunity to voice such opinions, after all.
Ivan seemed capable enough to get a grip on any discomfort he had, and even after being confronted by the creature he stepped forward, ready to do his job. The man was capable of things Drayson could not understand or fathom; and the simple fact that he stepped forward to face the creature spoke volumes for what kind of fellow he was. He would do well in Drayson's new task force.
Ahead, the woman's efforts against the creature seemed to find a sudden surge of determination; their arrival seemed almost an insult to her, but she was finally caught by one of it's blows. Or should have been. It was suddenly sent reeling back, seeming to struggle against unseen bonds, and the woman recovered quickly and lunged upon it, removing it's head from it's shoulders. A torrent of blood rushed forth, cascading across the tired sword-woman's body.
He eyed her for a moment as she dropped to her knees. He had met a professional monster hunter once before. An Atharim, the man had claimed to be. That man had killed a good friend of Drayson's, a good detective, and had claimed the man had been possessed by something called a Wefuke. And then the man had tried to kill Drayson, to keep his secret.
Whether she was one of those so-called Atharim was yet to be seen, but he suspected she was. And if that were the case, then she was just as likely to be acting, lulling them into a false sense of security such that she too could try to dispose of any witnesses.
"Very well done, Mr Sarkozy. Check on Mr Mikhailov and that wounded man, if you please. We will bag and tag this...monster."
He would very much like to see it delivered to a lab for study; they needed to start learning more of what was really beneath the city. He stepped closer to the sword-woman, although stayed well outside the reach of her blades; the woman had proven to be quit adept with them, after all. His pistol was lowered, the laser deactivated, although he did not holster the weapon. Or put the safety back on.
He studied Aria for a moment; he was calm, reserved. A man of few emotions, and most dulled by a long life of strife. A pleasant man, one who somehow still held some trace of hope for the world and for people, despite how regularly he had been proven wrong. Everyone deserved a chance, and he would offer no matter how many times that offered hand was bitten.
He had some understanding of the motivation of the Atharim; the priest he had met all those years ago in London had told him some about their beliefs and goal. They had been in existence for a very long time; perhaps predating recorded history, if he were to believe what the man had told him. And they had worked tirelessly to keep mankind safe from creatures like what she had slain. And had done a good job of it, as it was 2045 and those creatures were still thought of as little more then scary stories and folklore.
"You've done well, lass. Are you hurt?"
He would render assistance if he thought he could trust her not to try and kill him; perhaps better put as 'not to kill him.' He was no slouch when it came to a bout of fisticuffs, or with a gun, but if she got close, she'd likely have him cut down to size with those swords of hers without much trouble.
He would trust Ivan and Mr Mikhailov to tend to the wounded man and the girl; both were in need of assistance, and more importantly couldn't be allowed to simply wander off just yet. He needed to be certain neither knew anything of the creature. If they were illegal immigrants, neither could be taken to a hospital for treatment; that would likely result in a basic patch job and deportation. But something could be arranged; he intended to have a team down there as soon as possible to secure the creature's remains, and that team would include medics, who could tend to the wounded man.
He could not officially acknowledge the existence of the people that lived below Moscow, nor could he officially help them, but he knew ways to work outside of official channels, and the task force he had assembled was built of like-minded individuals. Those cops that had seen things like that headless brute, and had managed to keep the truth bottled up and keep their jobs and sanity.
Ivan seemed capable enough to get a grip on any discomfort he had, and even after being confronted by the creature he stepped forward, ready to do his job. The man was capable of things Drayson could not understand or fathom; and the simple fact that he stepped forward to face the creature spoke volumes for what kind of fellow he was. He would do well in Drayson's new task force.
Ahead, the woman's efforts against the creature seemed to find a sudden surge of determination; their arrival seemed almost an insult to her, but she was finally caught by one of it's blows. Or should have been. It was suddenly sent reeling back, seeming to struggle against unseen bonds, and the woman recovered quickly and lunged upon it, removing it's head from it's shoulders. A torrent of blood rushed forth, cascading across the tired sword-woman's body.
He eyed her for a moment as she dropped to her knees. He had met a professional monster hunter once before. An Atharim, the man had claimed to be. That man had killed a good friend of Drayson's, a good detective, and had claimed the man had been possessed by something called a Wefuke. And then the man had tried to kill Drayson, to keep his secret.
Whether she was one of those so-called Atharim was yet to be seen, but he suspected she was. And if that were the case, then she was just as likely to be acting, lulling them into a false sense of security such that she too could try to dispose of any witnesses.
"Very well done, Mr Sarkozy. Check on Mr Mikhailov and that wounded man, if you please. We will bag and tag this...monster."
He would very much like to see it delivered to a lab for study; they needed to start learning more of what was really beneath the city. He stepped closer to the sword-woman, although stayed well outside the reach of her blades; the woman had proven to be quit adept with them, after all. His pistol was lowered, the laser deactivated, although he did not holster the weapon. Or put the safety back on.
He studied Aria for a moment; he was calm, reserved. A man of few emotions, and most dulled by a long life of strife. A pleasant man, one who somehow still held some trace of hope for the world and for people, despite how regularly he had been proven wrong. Everyone deserved a chance, and he would offer no matter how many times that offered hand was bitten.
He had some understanding of the motivation of the Atharim; the priest he had met all those years ago in London had told him some about their beliefs and goal. They had been in existence for a very long time; perhaps predating recorded history, if he were to believe what the man had told him. And they had worked tirelessly to keep mankind safe from creatures like what she had slain. And had done a good job of it, as it was 2045 and those creatures were still thought of as little more then scary stories and folklore.
"You've done well, lass. Are you hurt?"
He would render assistance if he thought he could trust her not to try and kill him; perhaps better put as 'not to kill him.' He was no slouch when it came to a bout of fisticuffs, or with a gun, but if she got close, she'd likely have him cut down to size with those swords of hers without much trouble.
He would trust Ivan and Mr Mikhailov to tend to the wounded man and the girl; both were in need of assistance, and more importantly couldn't be allowed to simply wander off just yet. He needed to be certain neither knew anything of the creature. If they were illegal immigrants, neither could be taken to a hospital for treatment; that would likely result in a basic patch job and deportation. But something could be arranged; he intended to have a team down there as soon as possible to secure the creature's remains, and that team would include medics, who could tend to the wounded man.
He could not officially acknowledge the existence of the people that lived below Moscow, nor could he officially help them, but he knew ways to work outside of official channels, and the task force he had assembled was built of like-minded individuals. Those cops that had seen things like that headless brute, and had managed to keep the truth bottled up and keep their jobs and sanity.