Path of the Vampire forum

Title: Cubicle Memories
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Characters: Valerian, Fleur

Valerian must post first, outlining a story on the following theme (feel free to get creative):

Setting: A well lit large office building
Backstory: The group were out (alone or together) enjoying some down time (some or all characters).
Occurance: [character 1] is approached by somebody who claims to have known them from many years ago
Variable: The sun is about to rise.

Participants: 2
ARES: yes
Speed: slow
Chapter: no
Minimum Words Per Post: none
Maximum Words Per Post: none

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This thread was generated via the Roleplay Matchmaking System.

Well, some lovely news had occurred. Valerian had a child. A female. His thrall had survived. A fantastic occurrence! Not only was there a new Jorogomo, but the thrall was all fine. However, his life must go on. Valerian, as a job, was essentially an assassin. He went after targets here and there but he avoided the really big ones, the ones on the bounty boards. If he was stronger, he'd go after them, but he wasn't ready...yet. Valerian was no weakling, and there were few of his kind he truly feared, nor were there many humans. However, among the vampires he knew there were a good number that could best him. Though fortunately, he'd avoided confrontation with them. Some of the Lionelli might be able, but there were some individuals out there, enough to keep him on his toes, but not enough to stop his desire to rid this world of them if he saw the chance.

Today, however, he was mostly just relaxing in the dining area of an office building. In their downstairs they had a food court available. And while the food here wasn't the most exquisite, he figured it'd be a good chance to get the feel for the place. It was early morning, he was hoping to get a head start on the day. Just enjoy himself for a job well done, in a way. The sun was still on its way, not yet at the horizon. Which meant there was still time before vampires went and hid in their decrepit holes wherever those were.

His ease, however, began to sink as he recognized a face. Valerian didn't look perfectly young. He moved like a young man, he in many ways acted like one around women, but he wasn't. He also, however, didn't quite look his age. Around 20 years younger to be more specific. He'd just...stopped aging, or at least, it had slowed considerably. It wasn't uncommon for a Jorogomo to have messed up aging speeds. But for a human. Like the man he just saw enter, it was very wrong. The siren looked down at his meal, not wanting to move to attract the males attention, however it seemed he'd already been noticed.

The eyes turned on him, and he began to approach. Valerian gritted his teeth but put on a confused smile as he looked up at the one approaching him, intentionally pushing any knowledge of him from his mind to try and not accidentally slip up. "Something you need?" he asked.

"Ryan? You...haven't changed at all." The man said, to which the jorogomo just bit his lip as if in thought, "Should I...know you?" he prompted.

The other looked offended, but still confused, or perhaps, angry, "I'm Patrick. You...you took my wife from me." his eyes seemed to twitch, "She just...left. And here you are, unchanged."

There were some faces looking at the two, but at least the man was quiet enough not too many had heard. Valerian shrugged and continued eating, occasionally speaking, "You might be a little bit delusional. I've definitely not stolen anybody's wife."

That was not the right choice of words. It wasn't the first time Valerian had to deal with an angry husband, or boyfriend. This guy was probably about the age that Valerian looked. His wife was also not Valerian's thrall, nor had ever been. It was true he attempted to have her as a mate at the time. Probably, ten to fifteen years before. But her leaving the man was her own choice. The fact he was a Siren was irrelevant, in Valerians eyes at least.

"You know what you did...you're, you're probably one of those vampires too I bet!" He said furiously, now his voice rising. He'd clearly lost his mind when his wife left him. He hadn't tracked Valerian down, no, he must have stumbled upon this by chance, but kept the man in his mind all this time. However, he wouldn't sit for that insult, he stood up abruptly, staring the man dead in the eyes. He was certainly taller than the man, and his looming body seemed as if it would just pounce on the man at a moments notice causing him to step back in surprise.

"Don't insult me by calling me such a creature." He warned. There was a darkness in his eyes, a cold but sharp feeling. And the longer he stood there staring at the man. The more the man felt like he was about to die, until finally he sat back down, "Go away, before you make more of a fool of yourself." The man was silent, and Valerian began to eat again.

Fleur sometimes pretended that the wind carried her along, sweeping her from one place to another, not drifting, certainly not aimless, but guided, as if by a force much larger than herself. Dorothy called her loony, but the girl still followed, even when she had the option of staying at the apartment, the place like a hub for the young girl. Dorothy genuinely liked Fleur, and had remained at her side for about two years, never once broaching the subject of moving on. So many dead flocked to Fleur, most of them searching for a way to move on, but the occasional ghost truly meant her harm. And wasn't it amusing when their attempts failed. Fleur felt closer to ghosts than people, as evidenced by the fact that her only friends were ducks, and the rare bird brave enough to fight the ducks for her bread. That night, she felt odd, to say the least. Something didn't sit right with her, and it began the moment she opened her eyes. Dorothy, still lying on the floor, right next to her bed, happily greeted her with a good evening and a quick rundown of everything she'd missed. Dorothy liked to watch the news, so Fleur left the television on for her. Dorothy had the odd habit of draining anything with batteries and shorting out lights, not that Fleur had to worry about lights. She used candles, and sparingly at that, since light of any source hurt her. Though the injuries weren't as severe as sunburns, she still hated the pain. She likened it to sandpaper running along the area exposed to light.

But yes, something wasn't quite right. Fleur searched the apartment thinking she'd misplaced something, turning around and around in some attempt to jog her memory. Satisfied that the problem wasn't from her apartment, Fleur began a long hunt in the city. It was a time for relaxation, as she'd just returned from a visit to the shadow realm, so she made the hunt interesting by strolling along. With Dorothy keeping out for cops and soldiers, Fleur began overturning rocks and digging through weeds, trying to find something, anything, she might have lost. She found several pill bugs and a wiggly worm, but she hadn't been looking for those things. As the hours passed, as dawn approached, Fleur found a broken mirror and tucked the pieces into her small, leather crossbody bag. She stood at an intersection in Coastside and turned in a small circle, the movement causing the bottom of her pale-pink dress to flow in the light breeze. She'd worn a grey leather jacket, pretending that the chill bothered her. And for once in the past week, she'd worn shoes, her black, t-strap heels picked by her chatty companion, Dorothy. She was all dressed up with nowhere to go.

"Let's get ice cream!"

"I've told you repeatedly that I can't eat human food."

"You don't eat anything. All you do is that freaky, voodoo magic where you're suddenly fed. That's boring. Can we go to the fairgrounds again? You're so good at that mallett game with the bell at the top! Let's do that!"

Dorothy ran around Fleur, her excited tone causing Fleur to ignore the girl. Fleur turned in the direction of the station, but she caught the scent of bacon, the smell taking her back to breakfasts shared with her ex, before he'd lost all of his marbles -- and wasn't it so funny that she'd gone on to lose her own. Fleur followed the smell to an office building. The downstairs was well lit, while only a few of the upstairs lights were on. When someone exited through one of the two revolving doors, Fleur squinted at the man. A quick sniff let her know that he hadn't had bacon. The man didn't seem to like the fact that she'd invaded his personal space, but he was gone before she could scare him with a glimpse of her injured face. She moved her hand away from the white surgical mask and slowly made her way to the entrance. The lights hurt her eyes; even from outside, the light bothered her. Her arms were covered, usually the first to turn red, so she slowly entered into one of the revolving doors.

People congregated in the dining area tucked to the right of the entrance. There were plenty of tables and chairs, some people gathered together, and others alone. She heard a man exclaim the word vampires, so her curiosity moved from bacon to the man causing a stir. Several people had begun to whisper, eyes cutting to a man standing before another man. The office worker had spilled coffee down his front and tried to dab at the growing stain with paper towels.

"Patrick's lost his ******* mind," a woman whispered to her table, all of them turned to spy on the conversation.

"No. No, no, no. We aren't getting involved!" Dorothy hissed the words and Fleur glanced at the livid girl, then changed direction and stole a tray of food from a distracted man. "Well? Tell me what he's saying! I want gossip," Dorothy said, slipping into a chair right next to Fleur.

They had a perfect view as the disgruntled worker dropped into a chair, but the problem became the fact that, one by one, people at Fleur's table began to inch away from her. Fleur watched the man rise from his chair and jab a finger in the other man's face, exclaiming that he wasn't going to be intimated, that he'd waited years to confront the man known as Ryan. Patrick made a move to dump Ryan's tray into his lap, so Fleur leaned in, a small giggle leaving her mouth before she had the thought to contain it. Patrick scowled at her.

Valerian continued to eat but kept his eye on the man. Which seemed like it was the right choice. Not yet noticing the very undead he'd been accused of being. As the man continued to try and push Valerians buttons. Then attempted a very poor move as he tried to dump Valerians tray into his lap, he slammed his hands down on the edges of the tray pinning it to the table and causing a crack along one edge and the food to rattle on it. He took in a long deep breath as he stood up again. The impulse to just...break the mans neck was extremely strong right now. But Valerian was not so easily pushed. If he was attacked, the people around him would protect him. Humans were such feeble minded creatures, easily swayed by the powers of a Siren. A few of the humans had unwittingly moved themselves closer to the two already prepared to defend the Jorogomo without even thinking of the why. There was humans who could resist, but that weren't as plentiful as one might imagine.

Patrick scowled at someone laughing, if quietly, to themselves. Valerian took a quick glance, a woman. Pale and...hm. Never-mind. For another time. He looked at Patrick again, normally, any crowd would be on his side unless his opponent was particularly influential themselves. If he prompted the man into attacking him without overdoing it, he wouldn't even have to defend himself. This man was a human as far as he was aware, he didn't have enough power to beat him, and nobody here seemed to really be on his side.

He took in another breath and looked at the man, intentionally avoiding threatening him this time. He picked up his tray, turning his back on the man while whispering ever so quietly, "Why don't you go check yourself into the loony bin and leave me alone." he avoided the smile that wanted to creep on his face as he practically felt the mans already cracking stability slip again as he lunged for Valerian. Valerian heard the thud and felt himself shoved forwards just a bit managing to stop from falling over completely as someone else lunged past him ramming into Patrick. He had to quickly hide the amused smile that flashed his face before he set the tray down and stepped back holding up his hands to say he wanted no part in this as before Patrick realized it he'd gotten a kick or a tackle from almost six or seven people who'd lunged at him.

One of them managed to get a swift kick to the mans head too before they all finally moved off and Valerian looked at the guy, probably injured in several places bad enough he should get to the hospital. He held his head, and his stomach, curled up and shaken. Someone managed to take some pity on him who was a bit aways when it happened and tried to help him up and walk him out. Valerian sat back down cracked his neck, and began to eat again. He had expended relatively little energy, committed no crime, and was left alone. He took another glance at the people around him. He was mostly done with the meal itself, it was breakfast, not much there in the first place.

His eyes glanced occasionally at the woman that had chosen to giggle at the unstable man. And tried to see if he could get a better look at her, without actually staring.

"Whoa! Patrick is really asking for trouble. Five bucks says he gets punched."

"You still owe me five dollars for getting you a teddy bear from the arcade."

"Did that guy crack his tray?" Dorothy squinted, but neither of them had a clear view. Frowning, Dorothy slumped in her chair. Fleur shrugged her shoulders, noticing that a woman had been watching her converse with an empty chair. "Mind your own business, lady! ABC conversation here."

"Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" Fleur smiled, even though the woman couldn't see her expression. The woman, Nancy, or so the employee card clipped to the front of her dress shirt said, opened her mouth to speak, but Dorothy gasped and began chanting Fleur's name. "Nancy is a stupid name, but let's discuss it later," Fleur nodded, turning her attention back to Patrick and Ryan.

Fleur watched Ryan rise and turn away, the words spoken lost beneath the murmurs coming from her table. The oddest thing happened. Patrick lunged for the taller man, and people rose to defend Ryan, going so far as to tackle the crazed, infuriated man. Fleur tipped her head to the side, trying to understand the quick, harsh action. No one had seemed so interested in the conversation, and yet they quickly defended Ryan -- Ryan was also a stupid name, in Fleur's opinion, as she'd known a Ryan and he had been horrible to her. Six people attacked the downed man, punching and kicking and shaking him, even as he apologized and begged them to stop. The reaction was an overreaction, and when the attacks stopped, all of the people immediately backed off, looking unsure of themselves. Nancy got out of her chair and hurried toward Patrick, quickly helping him up, one arm around his waist, helping him to walk away from the scene. One by one, the attackers returned to their meals, seemingly over their desire to hurt the man.

"Don't you think it's odd?" Fleur kept her eyes on the lone man, who seemed fine returning to his meal, unbothered by the injured worker limping from the cafeteria. Dorothy squinted again. "It's kind of like an earthquake that's man made. A power. Like maybe he did that. It sounds absurd. He seems perfectly normal. I must be imagining things. Come. Let's go."

"Mmk! Wait. Why are we walking towards him? My dad told me not to start fights. This seems like a fight, Flower," Dorothy followed Fleur, hands trying and failing to grab Fleur's jacket. "If it gets bad, it's okay to run away."

"You shouldn't start fights you can't finish. That's the saying. I only want to talk." Fleur still had her stolen breakfast tray, so she sat it down on the table and claimed the seat across from him. The man, Patrick, had called him Ryan. Yes, that was right, she didn't like that name. She cleared her throat and spoke in a low tone. "There's something wrong with you, isn't there?"

The lights were bothering her eyes, and the skin beneath her jacket had warmed, as if knowing there were harsh lights on her. Necromancers looked like cadavers, and she had a feeling that people watched her because she was extremely pale. If it weren't for her hair and eyes, she might have passed as albino. In the chair beside Fleur, Dorothy watched the man with a harsh look in her eyes, the expression speaking of hostility. Fleur poked at the eggs on her plate with a fork, moving them around on the stoneware.

"It's unfortunate that your friend was attacked. It was funny though. He was so upset, wasn't he, Ryan?" Fleur stared at him, unblinking.

Valerian could mostly ignore the man now. Being taken away as he was. Hopefully he would know better than to attack him next time. Or even confront him. Or perhaps Valerian would kill him in an alleyway. The man was clearly crazy after all. And this was Harper Rock. Would anyone really be surprised if he turned up dead? And with his meal close to done, his interests would soon lead elsewhere. Which included the mask wearing pale woman. She started walking towards him and he lifted his gaze sitting more upright in his chair and offering a slight smile.

There was...something wrong with her. It wasn't just her appearance that was just...wrong. There was an aura of something being incorrect. Something which had apparently pushed others away from her. Three signs. She was hiding her mouth, she was pale, she was off putting for more than just the mask she wore. Not enough to make anything definitive. But the Jorogomo was on his guard. He was too old to not notice such blatant similarities. Still, he knew those signs were not exclusive to her. Theoretically some other humans could have it. But...they were the first signs nevertheless.

He raised his eyebrows at her first two sentences. The inflection and choice of wording. It sounded very accusatory. Sirens were all generally better at people than most. Harpy's with their voices especially. The Jorogomo tended to be best with the motions. The physical actions. But he was sitting. This thing was less easily noticed. He let out a sigh and looked at the door the man had been taken out, "Yeah, unfortunate." he said. Although he was quite cold about it. The man didn't really matter to Valerian. He was nothing more than an irritation. He showed however a seeming amount of disdain for being interupted, which was mostly fake. At least, more so than he actually had. "Not sure how he got my name right. Well...sort of right. I'm Valerian. Sometimes people just call me Ryan instead, makes things simpler. Harper Rock's not exactly big though. Not much I can do about it. The guy had clearly lost his mind."

He stared her back in the eyes, maintaining the unblinking stare, then seemingly jokingly, adding in, "Worried about Corvid 19 are you?" and gestured to the mask. His eyes stayed perfectly still on hers even though he had a slight friendly smile. His motions were smooth, not those of a person in even the slightest bit of distress. Like a practiced action of a dance, if that action could ever have even been in a dance.

She told herself there was nothing wrong with him, not that she could tell, not that was obvious with his disarming smile. For a moment, she forgot that they could be faked. Her hack psychic powers told her nothing; there were no foreboding omens, just the smell of bacon and the quiet conversations resuming around them. Fleur swung her legs back and forth in her chair, eyes moving from the man's eyes to his lips. He'd seemed a little annoyed at the man who had interrupted his lunch, and she found that to be normal as well. What was the deeper story? Perhaps it had been a coincidence. Beside her, Dorothy remained dead silent, which was unusual for the talkative girl. Unfortunate, he'd said, speaking nothing but the truth. Well, it was unfortunate.

Valerian sounded more believable than Ryan, and she decided that mere seconds after he'd shared his name. Valerian, a different name, but somehow fitting. She liked making friends, but something told her that Valerian wouldn't make the best kind of friend, wouldn't even meet her low standards. He might have had nothing wrong with him, but he'd seemed rather intimidating when faced with Patrick. That wasn't her kind of person. For a moment, she considered leaving. He had nothing to offer her, and sunrise approached. She would immediately burn, and then she would spend hours upon hours healing. The whole process was tedious at best, and Dorothy would fret, and George would make fun of her. Fleur looked over her shoulder to see out one of the cafeteria windows. The blinds were half drawn, but she saw the way the darkness had lightened. She had more than minutes, at least, but not by much. Within the hour, she'd be in trouble, and the thought of spending the day locked in a broom closet wasn't appealing, at least not right then. Perhaps another time.

COVID-19 was a real threat, but a perfect cover. She hadn't been able to lie in years, not that she minded, as she was happy being blunt, maybe even rude. The smile he showed her had a small smile forming beneath the mask. Was she worried about the virus? "Yes, I am worried about the virus. It's unfortunate," she said, using the term he'd used for the previous situation. "I don't want people to suffer or die, but there isn't much we can do about it, is there?"

"See? Perfectly normal. Let's go, Flower." Dorothy got to her feet and motioned toward the exit. Fleur took a quick glance at Dorothy, trying to make it seem as if she were looking around at other people, most of them following the six-foot guideline. "What kind of weirdo smiles like that. They don't."

"Aren't you worried about the virus?" Her guess was that he would say yes and she would simply excuse herself and head home, where she would give in to the urge to sleep, where George would grumble that she was cutting it close, or maybe that she was stupid, as usual. She'd thought she would pick up on a vampiric aura, but she'd been wrong. What else was there to do? Fleur focused on Valerian again, trying to feel for an aura that just screamed vampire, but she gave up when she couldn't find any hint of anything that said vampire. Fleur squinted at him, the expression gone a second later.

Valerian nodded thoughtfully at her response. Didn't really seem to concerned about herself. Perhaps just transmitting it. She mentioned there not being much she could do about that. Which, he immediately looked up at her in clear disagreement, though not aggressively so, "Of course we can. And should. Avoid touching people too much. Wash your hands. Cough in your sleeve. Be sanitary. Even if you don't get it yourself you can carry it." Well, maybe humans would. He wasn't expecting that he would get it himself. And vampires were probably immune entirely.

She prompted him about the virus, he leaned back in his chair, "Well, for others yeah. I'm pretty healthy though." he said chuckling, "For my age." he said kiddingly. He shoveled the last of his food into his mouth, what little there was. And finishing it with the remainder of his drink. Preparing to bring that to the bins where they belonged.

"Well, I have a day to get to. Have a good day Miss..." he paused promptingly to see if she would fill it in, or not. After that he'd just repeat her name and give a nod before preparing to leave. Waving over his shoulder, "No handshakes during the plague!" he added again in a half warning joke.

With that he'd set away his things for food and head out. He had his suspicions of her still. Ones he would look into, another time. However for now, he had somewhere to go. Westwall station, go north, and go underground near the river. She might or might not be one of the undead. No way to know for sure right now. But there were some under there, and he intended to slaughter them. He'd gone down there before, many times. Killed and killed and killed them. He was growing stronger all the time. And those filth in the sewers were just another step to greater power for him. Not only was he making himself greater, but in turn he was killing those wicked beings called vampires. He'd bring weapons with him of course, as anyone should when facing the monstrosities. Valerian may be kind around people kind to him. He might even be kinder than most of his own. But he was a Jorogomo. There is little mercy when a Jorogomo finds you an enemy.

She smiled behind her mask, amused by the facts humans constantly repeated, the warnings about social distancing and handwashing. Yes, she was concerned about the virus, and she didn't want humans to die, but she had nothing to worry about in terms of herself. He seemed to have a sense of humor that she enjoyed, and for the thousandth time, she wondered if she was missing something about the man. Beside her, Dorothy had begun to hum, completely over the conversation. She nudged Fleur's arm and pointed at one of the windows, silently reminding her of the passing of time and the rising sun. Fleur hummed in response, then watched Valerian finish the rest of his meal, eating food that most vampires couldn't tolerate, herself included. Of course he could have mastered the ability to eat, but she doubted it.

"He's eating. He's not throwing up. Happy?" Dorothy leaned in to look at the man's empty plate and Fleur sighed to herself, shoulders slumping. "Whelp, time to go. Let's go, Flower." Dorothy's words almost drowned out Valerian's parting words. He waited for her to fill in the blank, to provide her name, and names held such power. "Lie and tell him you're me."

"Fleur," she replied, receiving a nod in return. Jokingly, he called over his shoulder about handshakes in the plague.

She sat there and watched him leave, then she took her tray of food and walked it over to a trash bin. She slid her tray into the opening and tilted it, dumping the paper plate and bowls into the trash. Bacon, eggs, fruit, and applesauce fell into the trash, then she pulled the dirty tray out and stacked it atop the other trays, making a nice, neat stack of tan trays. Dorothy jogged ahead of her, walking backwards so that they could look at one another. Dorothy rambled about the weather channel, telling her about a warm front approaching, where it would meet a western cold front and bring severe weather. Fleur didn't mind storms, so she nodded along, all the while watching Valerian's retreating form. They went to the same station, except they boarded different trains. She'd missed the train to Wickbridge by several minutes, but she matched the man's train to Westwall. And what was in Westwall? Many things. Many places.

She really wanted her sword, but the gun hidden beneath her jacket would have to work. She never spent much time in the sewers, in the past, but she had been staying there lately. She had time before the sunrise, and if she had to find a cool, dry place in the abandoned sewers to nap, then she would. She didn't mind at all. She trusted Dorothy to have her back, despite the girl being a ghost.

They boarded the train to Westwall and they took seats on the side, right by the windows, so they watched the train bypass more office buildings and factories. At some point, she would need to practice her hand at breaking and entering, but not yet. She didn't have any skills with lock picking and she wasn't good enough with people to try and talk her way out of sticky situations. The light in the train hurt Fleur's eyes and brought a slight rosy hue to her cheeks, where the light had begun to hurt her. Dorothy, impatient to get off the train, paced next to the doors until the train came to a stop in Westwall, then she circled around Fleur.

"Finally!" Dorothy grinned, both of them standing in the abandoned sewers. Fleur looked around, seeing other vampires like herself, then she drew her handgun and began a hunt for prey. "I wish I could shoot too!"

"Even if you weren't a ghost, you're ten. You don't need a gun, stupid girl," Fleur said, smirking in her direction. Dorothy huffed at her, cheeks expanding like a chipmunk. "Oh," Fleur said, catching the glimpse of someone out of the corner of her eye. "Hm."

"That looks kinda like that guy."

"Valerian."

"Let's follow him!"

Fleur slowly turned to look at Dorothy, then into the shadows where she thought she saw the man. She could have been mistaken. She wasn't a tracker, and she'd read no omens, felt no stirring in her gut. She took her first steps after the man, Dorothy easily darting ahead.

"Fluer" was the name she gave. Was it real? Heck if he knew. But that wasn't the point. As long as it was consistent. He'd remember it, and investigate later. Following her then just wouldn't be wise. He'd attract too much attention. He looked through the sewers, his face of absolute neutrality, as he held his firearm at the ready. Although he didn't know yet who was following him, he did make regular checks around each side looking for potential ambushes, she'd have to take care to avoid his line of sight.

However, even if he wasn't looking for her, he would find a vampire soon enough. The creatures that walked here were more obvious, he'd gone against some of the lionelli too, they were a gang however. You should avoid the overlord, but everyone else was fair game. Easy pickings in his mind, but you wanted to avoid over-doing it or you might get them on your back, if they had enough of one to chase someone down who'd killed them so many times. These people however were less organized. But on an individual basis, sometimes more powerful.

The first one he saw was a Disciple Necromancer. For awhile now, the only ones of those down here who stood a chance against him were the Prophets. This particular one apparently recognized him, and Valerian in turn. There was barely a moment of pause before the sound of gunfire could be heard from Valerian. The Necromancer in turn tried to fire back, but in their rush missed wildly while they were hit in the shoulder. Valerian ducked behind cover, breathing in, and then rushing out of cover and firing several precise shots hitting the vampire who tried to close the distance before getting hit. Another few shots from the Jorogomo before the vampire managed to attempt to, out of their rush, use rigormortis on the Jorogomo. A naturally poor attempt, even if the vampire wasn't so weak. Valerian emptied an entire clip into the vampire before immediately sticking in another going over to the body and pulling out anything important her found glancing around.

He looked at his rifle and nodded silently, he had a blunt weapon at his side, a short weapon kind of akin to a club. He patted it just to make sure, though, he wasn't so sure he'd even need the thing. He had been able to down one so far with little effort. His face showed no remorse, nor a sense of joy, till he muttered out a few words, stepping over what was left and further down the sewers as he glanced around him, "Plague of the earth."