Post by Richard G. Hale on Sept 7, 2013 19:30:23 GMT -5
Enjoying the feeling of the moist air, and falling drops of water around, Richard trekked onwards silently. He briefly thought over the body and evidence that had been left behind at his old campfire, which was now gone, and the consequences it could possibly hold in the near future. Eventually he would say "You did what you had to do. The townsfolk will find the bodies sometime later, scour the area, and look for anything left behind. Might shoot out an APB for someone with a forty five to the nearest few settlements, so we're going to have to low. Otherwise, don't particularly care."
Richard meant what he said. Other than having to stay out of the next few towns for a while he really didn't care, and he had even been considering shooting the maybe-man-child before he smacked him in the head. It wasn't worth wasting the ammunition, especially since aged British ammunition was already hard to come by in the middle of Siberia. It had been an economical decision on his end to just knock the kid out, but he got the feeling that this woman had access to much more ammunition than he did. And probably money. And come to think of it, everything else that he was lacking in.
"Hope it doesn't come back to haunt anyone. Those things tend to happen every so often." He said a few minutes after his initial stream of statements. His tone was the same as it had been for most of the night, without even the slightest hint of hostility, if anyone was looking for one. Meanwhile, he continued to walk, arms at his side and hands in his pockets, hunched forwards slightly.
Post by Rennia Trayvold on Sept 7, 2013 21:10:43 GMT -5
"Mm, because forty fives aren't all that common right? I imagine that will be an extremely fun case to solve. Even the locals here sometimes pack them. Not the 'best' handgun in the world, but an easy, cheap one that still is extremely reliable and good stopping power... not to mention the abundance of ammo." She chuckled softly as she pulled her coat a little further around herself.
She considered mentioning anything else about the boy but decided against it. He seemed to be alright with the way things had turned out, and she didn't want to push her luck. She blinked slowly, closing her eyelids over those red white, red and black orbs. As she opened them back up a smirk pulled at her lips. "I do wonder what they would think about the shifter... or what's left of her... and the couple scattered fifty casings. Pretty sure they're not going to find any of the actual rounds, one's off in the ozone somewhere, the other is probably a good two dozen or more feet under ground and in a million pieces. Those, while vastly abundant, are a bit more rare to find just laying about, and in such low numbers. Usually you find them in massive quantities... product of the Em two (M2)."
The thought was certainly amusing. They'd utterly wrecked the poor shifter. Whomever had been sent on that particular errand made a horrible career choice and paid for it. Then again she doubted they intended to go up against a reaper with water control, and a heavily armed daemoness who had a few decades experience with USSOCOM. For a moment she almost felt like she might have felt pity for that poor, ignorant soul. Then that would be feeling thing was crushed by the amusement of the scene playing back in her head. It was a pretty sight for her. She doubted the reaper next to her would agree, but that's why she didn't voice that particular opinion.
After a few moments of continuing on their trek in silence, Rennia spoke up once more. "So why Russia? Pardon my intrusion, but you sound very English." She chose English in a very careful sense. She knew there was a possibility he would mistake her as specifying England specifically, but she didn't particularly want to say British... in case the man wasn't British. True she knew there were different accents, but that was a very tricky thing with people from the U.K. She'd heard some from Lower London who almost sounded Scottish at times. It was really annoying.
Post by Richard G. Hale on Sept 8, 2013 5:04:07 GMT -5
Almost speaking up to say that most of the residents of Russia and Siberia actually carried Makarovs and similar local weaponry, Richard thought better and silenced himself. It was true, however. A lot of these people served in the armed forces at one point or another, or had a relative that did, which made the Makarov in particular a very common firearm.
As they walked along the slick grass and permafrost he considered the grizzly sight they had left behind, something that was sure to make the locals sick. He didn't envy the people who had to clean up, though he had helped with what he could with some of his water. Something else that he would need to re-stock on soon. It would be an interesting event though, the autopsy of the body of what he presumed was the "Shifter". He didn't know if they had any drastic differences from normal Human anatomy, but they sure as hell weren't going to find out after what he had done.
Richard remained pretty quiet for most of the walk, though the question on why he was out here did make him raise an eyebrow. He wasn't very used to people asking about him, mostly considering that he usually traveled strictly on his own, and he wasn't entirely sure on how to answer. To be honest, he wasn't entirely sure why he was in Russia either. He had gone from England, to France, to Germany, and then ended up in Russia. Of course, he had circled through each country multiple times up to this point. Rather aimlessly, actually.
Eventually he responded with a simple "Oh... I wander from place to place. Been all over Europe, really. Too many memories back home for me to stay there."
Post by Rennia Trayvold on Sept 8, 2013 19:15:40 GMT -5
It hadn't needed to be said that she knew that the majority of the Russian people carried Russian made weapons. He didn't need to tell her that, she was quite well aware, just as she was aware the opposite was true in the States. She'd been to both numerous times and had dealt with many of them. But she was just as aware that like Americans and other allied powers, many had collected other nations weapons, especially side arms, to take back to their families as souvenirs. Russia was no exception. There was also probably a reason she specified sometimes and not many, a lot, the majority, or even most. No, she quite clearly specified, and meant... sometimes. Thankfully these thoughts weren't going through his head, as he decided to keep the thought to himself, though it was likely such an argument would have been made... if he had spoken up.
She trekked along silently in the wake of any conversation, her own thoughts wondering just what they would make of it. Would they assume she was on the same side as the little 'boy' or would they believe the two had fought and there were two sides to the conflict? The amusing part was that there were actually closer to four. While Richard and her had similar interests at the time, she wouldn't have quite considered him to be on the same 'side' as her if she had to place him. Thankfully she didn't. It would be quite the mystery, and it was unlikely it would ever be solved. After all, there had to have been dozens of bodies out here in Siberia that had been dumped by people you just didn't want to fuck with. As a result, some of those simply went without investigation. Perhaps this one would, with the odd choice of weaponry, the .45 and the mighty fifty... but the unusual elements also made it just as likely for them to believe it a cover up. Only time, and close attention to local media, would tell.
She eventually nodded to his answer. It was a strange one, was he running from his past, or just.. didn't care about it? She wasn't quite sure. "Interesting history in Europe. You should have seen those castles in their prime. Some of them were uglier than all hell, but some of them were absolutely gorgeous works of stone. Sure they weren't environmentally friendly, but they were impressive and a wonder to behold. When you get to be my age though, you start running out of places to explore. But I suppose I understand not wanting to go home. Hell, I think it's been a century since I visited my old 'home.' That being said, you can't avoid it forever. Otherwise you just carry it with you."
Post by Richard G. Hale on Sept 13, 2013 20:36:08 GMT -5
He could already feel the weary and mistrusting eyes on him, which would undoubtedly be the case at the next supply stop. As a rule, there was no killing of anyone unless the benefits outweighed the negative consequences, which just so happened to usually include being placed on a watch list when entering a town or village. Richard shivered under his coat as he remembered all the trouble he went through in France, years ago. A terrible mess that was.
Meanwhile, he listened to the talk of castles and homes, which were one and the same depending on who you asked. He had come across many a stronghold and castle in his time wandering, and they each had a certain charm about them. Granted, most of them had been ruins, crumbling and overgrown by now, but it was still a beautiful sight. In any case, it did lead to the question of why he had taken to the wilderness in the first place. It only took a brief moment to remember that he looked almost identical to a skeleton, was quite old by most standards, and that he would likely be attacked or harassed if not worse if he had stayed. He got enough of that as it was in the wilds, he didn't need to take it in a city of some kind.
The Reaper ended his thought with a small sigh, lost in the rain, and a small "Oh, you know what they say... Home is where the heart is..."
Post by Rennia Trayvold on Sept 15, 2013 16:01:08 GMT -5
Rennia's mind found little purchase on what she'd done. Her brain was just wired too differently to have any issue with what she'd done. It wasn't to say she had no moral compass at all. No she quite clearly had her own set of rules, and they weren't entirely alien from that of the normal human, but on the other hand she had no concept of the value of human life. For her, death was inevitable. The only thing they were doing was delaying that. So for her, it was merely a tactical decision. The man proved to be a problem, so she dispatched him. Was it what she would have wanted to do? Probably not. She didn't kill people just for shits and giggles after all. If he had straightened his act up, she would have gladly left him be, but unfortunately he hadn't. Was that guilt? No. It was merely a desire to avoid the situation. But what was done was done, all she could do now was avoid the fallout.
She sighed faintly as she started remembering her time in those ancient keeps. They were still marvelous today, but nothing like they had been. Back then they were truly marvels to behold. What she wouldn't have given for a camera back then to take pictures. Sure she remembered them in her mind, but projecting their splendor to the world today was... damn near impossible. She would have to suffice with her memories, they were good enough for her anyway.
She gave a soft chuckle as the reaper stated the cliche line. "So they say. Though that would have interesting notions for myself. I'm not quite sure where mine is. Though ironically I also care little for material goods.... " She gave a shrug. With that she marched on, thinking about that very statement.
Post by Richard G. Hale on Sept 21, 2013 18:21:16 GMT -5
Finding the idle conversation as they moved across the rainy tundra and odd but not necessarily bad change, Richard responded with "Material goods are for people who need to spend money, as opposed to those who need money to spend. As such, I also tend to travel lightly. Though it would be relatively difficult to carry a suitcase on the person through the Siberian tundra, the plains of France, and the forests of Germany."
The Reaper would be relatively silent for the rest of the night, unless he was responding or pointing something out. Physical or verbal. He merely enjoyed the much needed rainfall, and practiced his skills of manipulating water with the drops that impacted on his coat. a few drops would bounce off as if repelled by some unseen force, which they were, others would stop and zip around for a while before falling, and still others would just reverse direction and fly upwards, only to impact with another drop until they formed a small ball, and then lobbed away.
Post by Rennia Trayvold on Oct 1, 2013 21:37:43 GMT -5
"Heh, I can imagine." She gave a little lift of that bag she was toting behind her. "It's bad enough carrying this around. I can imagine taking it on an...extended trip would get tiring after some point. A suitcase would be downright impractical. Suppose that's what vehicles are for though."
Rennia went silent herself after that, for now she kept walking. She had intended to take the night off, however the daemon's antics had prevented that from being a sound strategy. With the inevitable discovery of the man's corpse at some point or another, the more distance they put between them and it the better. However, when the sun showed signs of drawing near to the horizon, she steered towards a gathering of trees. "I think we're going to want to hunker down for now. If they decide to do a manhunt, they might take to the air. Being out in the open is the last place we want to be then."
Regardless of his decision to follow her advice or not, Rennia would park herself just on the edge of the gathering and drop her bag off. She took a look around and tilted her head as she noticed something. "Someone's been through here recently..." The woman suddenly stated. She'd been talking half to herself, and half to anyone who bothered to listen. Her eyes would eventually wander towards the trees. "Another guest perhaps..."
Post by Richard G. Hale on Oct 1, 2013 23:46:11 GMT -5
Richard continued to trudge along quietly after he spoke, still enjoying the feel of the air, the moist fog, and the cloudy skies. They were all pleasant feelings on his old bones. Meanwhile, the exposed skies started to turn a slightly purple hue, marking the time of morning when the sun would soon rise. A strikingly beautiful time, and one that he vowed he would never grow tired of lest he be blinded to his senses.
Slowly coming to a stop with the rain, the Reaper would look up to the clouds, and then to the slowly changing horizon. The few damp spots on his clothing popped into little bursts and bubbles of steam as he did so, and then all at once the spots migrated upwards into the clouds. The figure himself stared ahead at the atmosphere, the bandages over his head offering no glimpse of what emotions, and no clues as to what features lie beneath. If one thing were clear, it was that he was enjoying the scenery. For he took a deep, relaxed breath, and then continued on his way.
Reaching the woman just as she made her remark about the treeline, taking a good look at the evidence on display himself before making a verdict. "Whoever it was, they didn't do a very good job of hiding their tracks... They look hurried, maybe panicked. Careless errors scattered around a lightless camp. Must have heard the commotion from last night, friend of yours?"
With that, Richard casually let a hand pull his weathered jacket aside, draping over the grip of his Webley shortly thereafter. The action caused the shirt underneath his jacket to stretch taut against his bony figure, framing the skeleton-like shell beneath it. The belt around his waist was tightened to a great degree, which supported the loose pants beneath it, which the shirt was tucked into. He looked around the area carefully, scanning for anything else out of the ordinary. Eventually he would say "Looks recent." and then go quiet once more.
Post by Rennia Trayvold on Oct 1, 2013 23:56:06 GMT -5
Rennia plucked her rifle off the other shoulder and took it in both hands. She reached up and pulled the bolt back just enough to make sure a round was still chambered before letting it slide back forward. Afterward the daemoness would snap the safety off and look towards the treeline. "A friend? I think I've got a friend or two out here." The way she said it might make someone wonder if she really did indeed mean friend, but then again she doubted he had meant it as well.
She gazed around at the tracks. Indeed they'd been recent. Rennia wondered if the figure had noticed they were being advanced on and had made a run for it. In their panicked state it didn't much matter. They had left a trail big enough for a blind, deaf moron to follow. Rennia tilted her head back to gaze at Richard and gave a shrug before she brought her gun up to her shoulder. Then she'd slowly gaze back towards the tree line.
The woman slowly advanced into the trees, carefully keeping the rifle out in front of her and gazing to either side occasionally to make sure she wasn't caught off guard. In the thickening trees it would shorten her range, but even a glancing shot with the .50 was no joke. If worse came to worse she could also whip out her sidearm and deal with them that way. There was of course Richard as well, whom she at least hoped would be interested in his own safety enough to at least offer assistance if nothing else. With her rifle at the ready she slowly crept further and further into those ever thickening trees, following the markings of the frightened man.
Post by Richard G. Hale on Oct 2, 2013 22:38:46 GMT -5
Of all possible choices, Richard decided to play the role of the follower this time. He would hang back, his hand ready on his trusted weapon of choice. His head was on a constant swivel, his eyes moving cautiously among the flora, though part of him still focused on the poorly hidden trail of broken twigs, scuff marks, and disturbed underbrush.
It was curious, really, how much trust he placed in this stranger. They had only met a few short hours ago, and yet here he was, trudging along behind her in the wilderness of Siberia. Neither of them knew the other's name, nor did anyone have a clue about the other's past, but both of them seemed to trust the other a great deal. At least, so it would appear. Interesting how things work out sometimes.
While thinking of one thing and adding a hundred others to that list, and while walking along behind the woman with a hand on his Webley, Richard wondered to himself. He wondered what the day would be like later, if it would warm up or maybe snow a little more. He wondered if anyone in the area would shell out for a helicopter , or if they would just keep a watch out, and maybe increase road patrols. But most importantly, Richard wondered what the hell he was going to do for food later. He didn't have any bones left, those had all gone with the bird last night. The bird itself wouldn't sustain him, and unless they came across a fairly large animal, he was going to have to do some digging later. As distasteful as he thought of it, and as much as he hated it, it might be necessary.
Post by Rennia Trayvold on Oct 3, 2013 18:51:18 GMT -5
Rennia scanned the woods out in front of her. For now she didn't have time to consider trusting the man behind her or not. She had labeled him to be practical and she would hold him to that assessment. It might have been a faint sense of arrogance, but she pegged herself to be a pretty good judge of character, which was amusing given her own was not so great, at least in certain aspects. He seemed like he gave some consideration to what was in his own best interests, and she had hoped that getting what he wanted was in at least part of those interests. Aside from that, he was either slightly dependable... or they'd both be dead soon anyway... so it didn't matter. Either he shot her and she died followed shortly after by him (As far as she figured) or he didn't shoot her... in which case they stood a chance of surviving.
Suddenly she came to a stop midstep. Her foot slowly lifted back up and she backed it off and set it back down. Once more her head shifted side to side as she scanned the area. Content that anyone there was too well hidden to spot, or simply there wasn't anyone there at all, Rennia lowered her rifle slightly, aiming the barrel off to the side as she tilted her head down to get a better look at something in front of her. That downward gaze would continue, first off to her right, then the left. After a good few moments of silence, she finally spoke up, stating one word, and one word only. "Mines."
As she waited for his reaction, her mind began working. Her first thought had been that they had probably been lured into a trap. The man's 'panicked' flight now seemed entirely too convenient. There would have been no way he would have made it through this field at a run... at least without knowing how to navigate this field. That told her that either he had been there for a considerable amount of time, or set it up himself. Then the question was, was it a panicked flight, or a staged trap? Her thoughts soon turned to the mines themselves and how to get around them. They undoubtedly would have slowed him down, but they also made to slow his pursuers down as well.
Right now, the rest of the day would have to wait for the daemoness. She was much too concerned with getting through the here and now first. Once they made it though the situation she was concerned about living through, then she could worry about food. Hell, she would be perfectly fine going without food if that was the consequence for not preparing for it now. It was far better than the alternative. She let out a faint 'hrm' as her grip tightened on the rifle, the daemoness deeply troubled about how to proceed.
Post by Richard G. Hale on Oct 5, 2013 1:46:59 GMT -5
Richard rapidly took in the surroundings as soon as the woman stopped herself, assuming that something was wrong. His hunch was confirmed with the revealing of the little metal object on the ground, and with the woman's pointing of it out. Actually, there were dozens of the little pests. They were all over the damn place. He could make out the glinting of one about a foot away from his right shoe, hastily hidden under some of the underbrush.
Mildly annoyed that someone had gone through the effort to blow another up, especially out in the woods in Siberia of all places, rather than face them with honor. Of course, the two of them made quite for quite a deadly duo already, so it kinda made sense. But honestly, mines? Richard sighed to himself as he quietly gathered in his surroundings, a thin film of water slowly started to bubble down the sides of his jacket and pants, and over the ground.
The water flowed from the Reaper smoothly, and quite quietly. It spread out along the ground in a wide circle around him, bubbling every so often and exploding with a burst of super heated steam. The point was to locate as many of the mines as he was able, and from there, to divert any electricity into the supply of water, or to remove the functionality by burning the components with steam, and flooding them.
Post by Rennia Trayvold on Oct 5, 2013 14:48:19 GMT -5
The field appeared to be made of several different types of mines, regular antipersonnel, bouncing Bettys, even some Claymore mines. Rennia looked back as she noticed the water seeping out. The woman took in a deep breath and gazed back forward. Since he seemed to be taking care of the mines she started to scan about. Something wasn't right here... The area was too still, too quiet. Siberia wasn't exactly a noisy place, but something made it almost deafeningly silent. The only sound now was the crunch beneath their feet and his water.
That's when she noticed the flash, but by then it was too late. She leaned to the right as there was a sharp crack at the report of a rifle. By sheer luck the round exploded through her left arm instead of her chest, where it should have. She growled as the pain shot up her arm and, despite her injury, managed to bring her own rifle up and let off a shot in that direction. There was the sound of a man cursing as the round exploded after passing by the already fleeing man by a centimeter. She furrowed her brow in disapproval as she tried once more to take aim. Getting the rifle on target was difficult with the pain exploding in the muscle of her left arm. The rifle swayed a bit as she tried to stabilize it, but it would not stay steady in her current condition.
The man seemed to notice she was still aiming at him as he took several pot shots off in their direction. Most of the rounds went wild, but another struck the daemoness. Unfortunately for the man, his rifle wasn't extremely high powered, and his next round struck her in the lower abdomen. It fought it's way through the trench coat, but was stopped by the vest underneath. Most of the energy was dissipated by coat and vest, and thus the only thing the round served to do was give her a light punch in the stomach, which only irritated her further. It did however momentarily throw her aiming off as she both got hit and tried to dodge any further rounds. With her new injury, Rennia knew that this would have to be the moment they struck. If she gave him a chance to set up again, they would likely both be toast. Thus the daemoness danced impatiently as she waited for the mines to be dealt with.
Post by Richard G. Hale on Oct 8, 2013 1:17:33 GMT -5
The all too familiar atmosphere of nearly paralyzing fear, and breath-taking pressure flooded the immediate area almost simultaneously as the first shot was fired. The pressure released almost leaving a physical mark on the world around the three entities, a tidal wave of energy releasing in less time than it took for it to expand. A rapid clicking followed the uncoiling energy, the sound of a button snapping off, and then the distinctive cocking of an old revolver.
Richard saw the muzzle flash before the slug found it's way home, his instincts taking over from that point forward. His hand had found it's mark in a single moment, and his finger had squeezed off a rapid succession of four shots. Each slug, upon encountering a surface, exploded with a rapid release of water, super heated to a point at which it was no longer possible for it to retain a liquid form. If one of the bursts was close enough to strike on human skin, it would be hot enough to boil it, or cause severe burns. Similarly, if embedded in rock or wood, the rapid expansion of gas would cause the material to expand, and then explode outward with great force.
By this time the ground-water released by the Reaper would have done it's job for the most part, having flooded or otherwise disabled any explosive device it encountered so far. The rapid clicking slowed and sped up at various degrees, seemingly at random all the while. If one looked closely enough, they would be able to see the bottom half of the bandages covering the skeletal man's face to be vibrating, staking him as the source of the clicking. An old habit of his, developed during the Blitz in England, when Richard 'grew up'.
