Pack Struggle [MM]

[Kyrie]

Kyrie was not a lone gunman. Never had been. Yet he ended up alone...a lot. Especially nowadays. So it was comforting to be able to have help, even without knowing who the person helping him was. Somehow, being a vampire had made that a more common thing. People were so more often on one extreme or the other now. Either they hated or feared you, or they were going to help you. Fortunately, this time it was help.

Watching the zombie, befuddled and yet still stubborn, was like waiting for a cracked cup to finally shatter. At any moment it might realize they were there, and then that might require them to kill it, which might cause noise, which might bring in more zombies. Now, they were of relatively little concern normally. They were perhaps stronger than humans, but not than a vampire. And even as a human they had been something he could take down with relative ease. The issue, however, was the lack of blood. Those bullet wounds were rather unpleasant, healable though they may be. The more he was pushed on, the more he was going to wish he had blood.

Kyrie stopped himself from breathing by instinct, even without the necessity to do it he often did it anyway. However, when it came to avoiding being heard he did at least have the awareness to pay attention to it. He heard Henry say they needed to move. He followed close behind, one hand holding the weapon, finger off the trigger as practiced, and the other hand on his stomach as he gritted his teeth with each step. His eyes weren't really focused on the surroundings, more on individuals. Things that moved. And making sure he didn't trip on something.

He wanted to ask to move faster, but he also didn't want to attract attention. Or, for that matter, actually move faster. He wanted to be out faster, but not actually move faster. Or at all.

[Henry Craven]

Stale air and dust pushed out around them as they moved further into the facility, keeping to the walls at a hurried, yet cautious pace. Henry was careful to keep from trodding on the shards of broken glass that remained scattered across the cement floor, his hazel eyes sweeping the room and his ears pricked. Had he ever been so focused? He felt like a hunting wolf; his thoughts slipping back to documentaries he’d watched on his native canid, the Maned Wolf. As the predator eats mainly small rodents, rabbits, and insects, it has to be incredibly alert. Maned wolves rotate their large ears to listen for prey animals. They tap the ground with a front foot to flush out the prey and pounce to catch it, or they may dig after burrowing prey. They may also leap into the air to capture birds and insects. Long legs help them move through and see above the tall grasses through which they regularly hunt. But they’re also solitary hunters, and the wolf never really had to beguile themselves with thoughts of their companion’s survival while they protected their own.

For the first time since meeting Kyrie, the Brazilian was having second thoughts about whether or not he would or should or even could protect them both. Henry wasn’t a coward. As a matter of fact, those who knew him personally could criticise him for being dedicated to a fault. Yet, this world of swords and guns and magic spells was alien to him. He found it a challenge beyond any other he had met in his life to force a part of himself through a gap that he was never meant to push through. He was a square peg being forced through a circular hole and short of cutting off his edges, he didn’t know how else to cope. But he had no choice. Call it tunnel vision, call it ignorance, call it arrogance - whatever it was, Henry Craven was in it for the long haul.

Even Henry’s vision struggled in the low light, but his hearing was pitch-perfect. As they rounded a corner, he froze, slamming his back to a wall and holding his arm out to encourage Kyrie to do the same. At first, the creature was as stolid as a statue and had its back to them; the sliver of moonlight breathing in through the fogged windows glanced dully off of an exposed skull, shoulder bones, and a spine. But then it had heard them. The creature moved with a slight sway, as if the skeletal body was held together with invisible rope. Henry stopped breathing. Through the darkness came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight six feet off the ground. Its nascent roar filled the room like a gust of sour air, speaking straight to Henry’s primal centre. He felt the adrenaline hit at such a fever pitch that he immediately felt nauseous, but mostly confused. The Ancient Zombie advanced on them. They had to act now.

[Storyteller]

==========AUTOMATED RANDOM EVENTS SYSTEM==========

Henry Craven hears some commotion which sounds like a fight coming from nearby.

[Kyrie]

Funny sometimes. Being on the receiving end of the hunt. He was so used to chasing people down, following up leads and asking questions. Taking information and trying to expand on it. In the modern day, there were so many new ways to find people. And many new ways to hide. Right now however, it wasn't a matter of tracking. It was old fashioned. A predator searching for prey.

Kyrie saw Henry's arm come out and his quick movement against the wall, he matched it...slower, but he did it. He swallowed as he watched the creature listen, look. It heard them and they were on the edge of discovery. The zombie approached, and Kyrie felt his muscles tense, which caused him to grunt in pain.

"The creature must fall." The words were said with utter certainty, but the words weren't what was used more. An Allurists gifts were in manipulation. Altering the emotions or minds of others to their advantage or disadvantage. It took some kind of energy at times, he didn't know what exactly, but he could feel some of it used here. Inspire. Intended to strengthen Henry in just about every way. He was the one helping Kyrie here, and Kyrie had no way of healing. So it was better to give as much aid as possible before that could become a problem.

He held his pistol but didn't fire yet, "You're call. I don't feel like thinking for myself presently." he said the words coming through gritted teeth. He had a few tricks he could still use here that weren't as noisy as a gun. But Kyrie really didn't have the strength to think on it right now.