Have You Seen My Sons? (Open)

[lourickbaker]

Lourick stood horrified. Positively horrified. His jaw had unlatched and dropped low, his disbelieving words coming out in incoherent groups of mumbled shock. The harder he worked to voice his utter disillusionment, the harder it became to hold his eyes open, yet he couldn't even bring himself to tear his eyes away from what had once been his son, now only the remnants of red leakage. Luckily for him, however, his focus was shifted when Cory's incessant screaming broke through the boundaries that had nearly enclosed him.

"DADDY! DADDY!" he screamed frantically as he stood and stretched out his arms. "DADDY!" From the look on the little child's face, there was no doubt that he would be scarred for life, much like Ambrose would have been in the chance of his survival. "DADDY!" His sobs came loud and angry, cold and frightened of the creature that had just devoured his big brother.

Lourick didn't even take the time to think, unsheathing the sword from the cane that had kept him on his feet during the search and even now as he stood in horror. The silver caught the deadly gleam of his eyes, silver sheen shining as he made a limp run for his son, sword drawn. For the third time in his lifetime, the werewolf looked positively murderous simply in human form, and as much as he loathed the full moon, he prayed for it as he ran to his wailing, screeching son. He wanted to tear this monster apart, but his remaining family took priority.

"Cory, I'm coming!" he bellowed as loud as he could, madly dashing in and swooping at his youngest. He hoisted the trembling child into his arms, brandishing the blade in front of them as he began backing up rather defensively toward the exit. Even with a limp, Lourick was fast under the influence of adrenalin, but he doubted that they'd get out without being seen. All the while, though, he tried to end the distracted whimpering that his son continued to emit as they moved. "Shh...It's okay, son, I've got you..." Even in his whispers, he sounded disconcerted as he looked at the beast.

Lourick had one more thing to add to his hate list.

[thecrimsonraven]

A low, but powerful growl rippled it's way over the teeth lined lips. Sucking up the puddling drool and blood it stomped it's malformed legs in defiance. The four unblinking eyes mouthed on either side of the body wide mouth each took an actuator to watch. The raw of it's thighs bulged with power; tendons and sinew visibly tightening with intent. As David's servants closed in on the beast, it would not let them have their way. Like a spring under pressure the creature released it's stored energy. By sheer, uninhibited strength; the creature launched itself upwards. The force was enough to send a column of sawdust stretching after it. The pair of actuators attacking the roof had given it a boon. Far too strong to be buried, the beast plowed through the ceiling with out pause and into a short distance into the night's sky; leaving the warehouse ceiling collapsing behind it.

This was all over is seconds; while David's metal limbs still attempted attack; that vicious tongue shot down through the hole in the roof, encircling one of them and holding firm. The creature landed on a rooftop quite a fair distance away, perhaps some long abandoned apartment block, it's windows blacked out and and bare. The effect was very much like a skyward anchor, and after the slack between the actuator and tongue was picked up there was little to whole the human to the earth against the great weight of bone, tooth and meat that tugged at the actuator and attempted to pull him from the ground or threaten to rip the device from his back.

[david]

When David's attempt had clearly failed, the force of the pull was far too much for him to handle. He shouted in alarm when the top left actuator had been grabbed by the impossibly strong tongue as it tried to yank him above the warehouse. "Dammit," he seethed, the force of it jarring his back so hard he must have blacked out long enough that he was now being pulled in the air.

Master...! the top left actuator cried pitifully, the sound of pain in its telepathic message. Pain? How was that possible? Then he felt it, the sudden sting running into him like an electric shock. He was beginning to feel what they were feeling. As if they were now truly, physically, a part of him

The lower actuators didn't bother to grab onto the ground for leverage; they knew what a mistake that would make. With the instability of the warehouse and the fact that David had just now wrecked it even more - it was not safe for Lourick and Cory to be there. David glanced behind him, finally spotting the two. "Get out of here! Head back to the church, now! I'll make sure it doesn't go after you!"

With that, David used the remaining three mechanical limbs to help him steady himself on the breaking rooftop. He saw where the tongue led, and he pulled back with an equal amount of force on it, the three actuators clamping around the fleshy organ to pull back and swing. "Come on, you coward," David whispered hoarsely. "Give me all you got."

[lourickbaker]

Louick didn't need to be told twice. As fast as he could, he began run-limping for the exit, grabbing the bottom half of the cane as he went along. As he looked up to see the struggle overhead, his heart was struck with a new fear, namely a deep concern for the man who was still struggling with this magnificent, necrotic creation. He didn't stop moving, though, as he watched, keeping Cory tight in his grip as he approached the exit. It was only a half comfort that he was hanging on to him. Where there should have been four arms, there were only two.

"What's going to happen to you?!" he called up, voice breaking under the strain and pain the weaker leg as he reached a semi-viable exit, starting to push through it. At this point, he wasn't the only one looking up; he liquid eyes of his ward were staring up right along with his father as the toddler clung to the body of his father, cold with sweat, hotblooded with rage. The werewolf's limber arm kept a vice-like grip over the small body against his as he started to run out, looking back. "Are you going to be able to get away?!"

As though overtaken by a strangling force, namely Cory's own strong grip around his neck, Lourick's voice strangled to a halt. Everything in him was ticking backwards and on a new level, maybe even on a new clock. The circuits in his mind were being rewired quickly from the tragedy as various parts of him began to fail and surface simultaneously. It was as if what made Lourick stay sane was slowing seeping through his body and out into an aura-like waste, abandoning the man's body for some distant hope. There was, after all, little of his own remaining, and that barely coursed through the blood as it thinned out in his veins.

[thecrimsonraven]

A sudden tug-o-war was not intended, but the creature still held firm, letting loose a scream like a child in delighted ecstasy, ear shattering and soul destroying. The sort of sound you can only hear in the most horrid places of the night. Bracing it's collection of hands for feet and muscular leg against the balustrade for the edge of the building, it shifted it's great weight to anchor itself down against the attempt to subdue it. David's pull had almost turned it's mouth inside out, but this wouldn't have affected it's motor functions much. The tongue was tightly attached by a threaded mash of wire like stitching and twisted bone. As the actuators seizes the elongated muscle there was a unitarian pulse that ran right through the tendril, right back to it's wicked source. As if in a nature reaction to being grabbed, the sections of tongue grew taunt; large piece of bone and misshapen teeth piecing their way outwards all long the slimy length. The thick phlegm that coated the beast's tongue would make it throughly difficult to maintain a hold of.

As if in response to David's challenge the creature began to thrash from side to side, the dead breath of it's deep snorting casting up clouds of foul mist about it. It's tongue swaying over the alley way between the warehouse and it's neighbor. Broken bones and cartilage shards were spat at every which way in the violent tantrum. As if this wasn't enough; in an unpredictably sly move, the beast slipped out a second tongue, keeping it hidden till it was sure all attention was on the first before launching it with the same unprecedented strength and speed that had brought them top side. Bone flakes and broken teeth bearing down like the tails of whip, projected by layer upon layer of blood filled muscle, it was swung out wide to the right and up and brought diagonally down at David with heavy speed. The surprise tongue was aimed to kill, and looked as if it would cleave a normal man in half.

[david]

David had no time to answer to Lourick’s alarmed calls, and only wished that he and his son got out of there. The hunter had little doubt he was going to make it out of this alive, but he had to last long enough for those two to get away without being seen. Gritting his teeth, he heard the panicked cry of alarm form the top left actuator as the sharp bone pieces came out of the tongue. With the slippery saliva that made it harder to grip, the remaining actuators began losing their hold.

But as one of the actuators lost their grip, a second tongue lashed out towards David. He waited for the impact to come, wishing he had made this last longer; until the recently unoccupied actuator caught it in its vice like grip and shot out its hidden spear from within it, piercing the second fleshy organ mercilessly as it pulled and tore at it. The upper right actuator was giving pay back for catching its twin. David could feel the unexplained hatred from the machine, and the others returned the emotion with angry cries as they began to rip at the tongue still holding the top right actuator.

They were furious, and they wanted this thing dead. The hunter grinned. He wouldn’t have them any other way. Perhaps this would be a drastic change in their relationship. Finally, David had time to answer Lourick’s cry, although rather late.

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry about me!” he shouted loud enough for the two to hear, as he believed them to be farther away now - and he was on top of the nearly destroyed warehouse after all. “You just get yourself and your boy to safety! If I make it, you’ll see me back at the church!” It was a weak lie of a promise, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say without worrying them both.

[lourickbaker]

Having little to do in this time of chaos, Lourick did only what he knew to: obey. As he continued to clasp the still-aghast child close to him, no further away from that emotion himself, he continued on out of the warehouse as fast as he could, trying to once again sheath the blade so that he could once again use his cane as support. His prayers were with the man behind him, but his heart beat dead like his oldest son, his wife, his sisters, his parents and grandparents, everyone he at one time had in this world. There was a pain in his heart from the leaving of this valiant man behind, the guilt of inability shaking him like a leaf in the wind as he cast a final look over his shoulder. He had to say something, anything to this man for his self-enlistment, for his being such a willing party to sacrifice himself for the sake of a strange werewolf and what once been two boys. If he died without his thanks, it would be all the more reason for Lourick to hate himself when the shock wore off.

“Take care of yourself!” he yelled loudly. “And thank you!” He didn’t stay for a reply, though, as he continued his act of deference toward the church, at last managing to click the cane back into place and hit the ground with it. Support now to be had, the lame man began to pick up speed and some amount of agility as he began to weave in and out of different streets, all the while murmuring comforting nothings to his son. Being lifted up over so many buildings had been a disorienting episode, something that had thrown off his compass as he eventually found his way back to the street. Too close to their sanctuary to stop for a breath, though, Lourick slowed to a limping walk as he once more approached the doors, breathlessly pushing them open and walking back in.

Once more, quiet surrounded Lourick as he eyed the vast, consecrated chamber with a weary, loathing expression, but the near-silence was broken when he heard whimpering against his right shoulder. He felt the tears of his son as they seeped through the shirt that stuck to his shoulder, further drenched from perspiring so heavily at the sight of the slaughter. There was no greater urge to stop and comfort his son, but still feeling the need to get the both of them away from the door, he limped to the faithful pew that had held him up after he had fallen, sinking down into it without so much of a sigh as he placed his cane onto it next to him. Free to use both arms, he clutched Cory to his chest and allowed himself to reduce to tears, a soft, low, and mournful cry echoing through the halls and into the coming night.

Ambrose was gone.

[thecrimsonraven]

Black blood and nerve tissue sprayed out after the shine of the metal spike was sent straight through the second tongue. It halted, dead weight in the tight bound metal fist. The wound stank of animal parts and feces, that fresh metallic blood long wasted away. The aroma even overpowered that which the creature itself was emitting, filling the gentle breeze of the now pitch back skies. To join it a howl that would sends by the damned. Screeching and heaving; it seemed the pain had shot right through the beast, ceasing it's ruthless thrashing. For a moment it seemed to go quiet. Those four very human eyes, pasted onto it like a fleshy collage, stared out wide at the limp tongue as if in mourning.

A sudden change came as it monster drew back, letting forth a sound not so uncommon to frat parties. A gagging sort , filling with liquid. It swayed for a second; before leaning forward and letting out so almighty a scream. But with it, it send a rippled pulse of growth running down the second tongue, still held firm by the actuator. In a mixture of dead throngs and paralytic spasms; the tongue lassoed itself around it's captor as the wave of swelling came around it's piercing and continued to the appendage's very tip. Puffing up probably 5 or 6 times it's original size, it looked like it was only going to grow further till finally rips and tears began all over it's length. The same black blood that had squirted from the spike wound sprayed in a fine cloud from the fast growing holes. As the rapid growth still accelerated, the creature seemed intoxicated with it's own action, shaking and vibrating on the spot in some sort of fit; the sickly noise of it's last meal bouncing around within it. The engorged tongue finally broke, and in one stunning display of genius design; the tongue exploded under the creature's own blood pressure. The detonation was grand and uniform; the entire length bursting in a massive bank of the foul blood and splintering minuet bone and teeth between the two buildings like an anaconda hand grenade.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of the massive doors shutting firm drew Hazaar from a desk out back behind the alter, tossing down a blood stained rag he'd been cleaning his hands with. As silence fell again on the church, he slinked out from the offices to the dire weeping of a father and son. He gave himself a sour smile, leaving them to their apportioned time alone to grieve. Instead he went back to the office; scouring the fridge for something kept there that mite prove even a scrap of comfort.

"Ham, no. Beef roast, no. Milk? Do werewolves even drink? Ah, he mite as well start." Hazaar turned his devilish gaze at a bottle of port, standing atop some book shelves. Dragging out the milk bottle and grabbing the port, the sound of the half full bottle jingling as he slowly entered the isles. He gave out a stifled cough to announce his presence to the grieving family, or what remained of it. "I thought perhaps you and the boy needed something after your ordeal..." He placed the two bottles in arms reach, speaking softly and moving with an air of tenderness that had not been present before. Yes, he was a maker of monsters; but not one himself.

[david]

David gagged, the taste of sour in the back of his throat. He tried to swallow it back, keeping himself in control. The smell, and now the blood and pieces that had flown everywhere; and very much so all over him - it was enough for him to empty his stomach automatically, but he held on. David watched as the top right actuator seemed relieved to have been freed, but not so happy with the mess the tongue had left behind. The heart lights that allowed it to see clearly were covered in the horrible blood. Yet, it still commanded authority over the others as they pecked and tore at the remaining tongue that still held onto its screeching, frightened brother.

Something in David snapped, then; the screaming in his mind finally setting him off. A memory came flooding back, to the sound of screaming in his family's home. The fire - killing off those who were left. He had been able to save them too. Like that poor boy. Not this time. He wouldn't lose anything else. He would die first.

The top right actuator let out a whirring scream of anger and power, releasing within it a weapon the ZaneCorp scientists thought would be wise to put in it. In all of them. The scientists truly must have been mad to create such powerful weapons for a human to control. The flamethrowers flickered with blue flame until all three mechanical mouths sent forth the fiery mass at the remaining tongue. The actuators themselves were completely resistant to heat, and the top left actuator captured would feel nothing but a warm caress.

David grinned. Hell hath no fury like a mad hunter with four very, very angry indestructable machines. It was then that Lourick's shouts moments before began to register. He shook his head. Someone had thanked him. How long ago had he heard that phrase? A new hope, a new strength grew within him; and the actuators felt it too. The flames grew hotter, more powerful. Soon, nothing would be left of that fleshy, disgusting organ but a pile of ash.

[lourickbaker]

Lourick was hesitant to even look up at this point, the pain in his eyes unfathomable as the turned them upon Hazaar. There were drying streaks of saline sorrow on his cheeks, as well as his son’s, the traumatized gaze gone from neither of them, even as the young boy hesitantly turned to see who had just spoken to them. There was some sense of entrapment in Lourick’s mind that he was having trouble escaping, and while he didn’t know what exactly had caused it, he did know that it had tied his desire to say anything down to the floor of his mentality. It felt as though he had just been beaten with a stick, both physically and psychologically. Mind-fucked, so to speak: it wasn’t pleasant.

“Thanks…” he murmured, reaching forth and gingerly picking up one of the bottles. Not once did he show signs of letting go of his son as he pried the top off of it, fingers stiff and almost unwillingly sore as he at last worked his magic on it. While he appeared silent as he went about this, his mind wasn’t quite that revering of the tragedy as he spoke telepathically with the child in the crook of his arm. Come on, Cory. You need to drink something… He brought the container to the child’s lips, tiredly concerned with he seemed less than receptive of the offering.

No… The voice in his head was that of someone scarred for life, too deep in mourning to care about his own nourishment at this point. One reason why he still needed his father: if the boy never took care of himself, Lourick would do it for him. He turned his head away and buried it in his father’s shoulder once again, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching bits of the shirt in two small fists. I don’t want it.

Please, Cory…just drink a little of it… Lourick pled, what never came out through the voice coming through with twice the potency through the reddened eyes. Somehow, he was glad that he was in so much better control of his mental voice than the physical one. You don’t need to drink it all right now if you don’t want to…please…just do it for me… Above all, he didn’t need his remaining son depriving himself because of his tears.

Their minds went quiet again, and Cory said nothing, but after several seconds of a painfully pensive wait, the black-haired child at last consented, turning his face back to the open and accepting as his father gave him of the milk to drink. As shallow as the sip was, it was better than nothing, and any good father would be, he was glad that he had managed to change the boy’s mind. “There we go.” His whisper sounded slightly hoarser than earlier as the shrieking at last began taking its toll. The message, however, was heartfelt. “That’s a good boy…”

[thecrimsonraven]

The screeching was merciless against the sudden lashes of flame. It was not from the creature itself, but the skin along the appendage still pinned against the warehouse roof. The dead flesh was nothing in the path of the fire; the hunter's new weapon laying waste to the tendril in seconds of bursting skin. As the fire licked it's way over the tongue it too began to expand, it's surface so hot as to bubble in squealing protest to the merciless attack. The now massive tongue, grow far larger then the other was fast becoming a pressure cooker. The blood that surged through it passing back into the creature; it's unique circulatory system seeming to pass the heat along to the rest of it's body in the speicalized current that allowed it to detonate it;s own limbs. Something of a design flaw; the creatures main body was soon feeling the same unending fire it's tongue was being subjected to over a building away.

Thrashing and screaming, the beast could not escape; no longer was it holding the actuator in place but it's flesh has melted to the steel, the bare metal acting like the hot plate to a child's curious hand. What foul blood air remain was soon gone, now washed way by the scent of burning flesh and hair. The rolling clouds, filled with ash and agony, blanketed the warehouse and the sky above. Blood and internal fluids boiling, the creature was panic stricken. It's own body was swelling, it's skin popping under the redirected heat. In one pain maddened move, the monster draw upon what strength it had left. Still it's powerful legs surged with the heated blood, it's skin immediately steaming as it's muscles pulsed beneath the thin, grey skin. One final thrust sent the great maw half hurdling towards the hunter. It's bursting tongue ripped apart in flaming streams, a wall of broken bones and teeth now bore down upon the man and his machines. The potent fires were careless and spreading quickly across an already rickety warehouse roof top, and dripping down into the tinder ladened room below. The oncoming mass meant to kill the hunter in one final lash of feral violence, but even of it failed; it's impact on the building seemed posed to finish the job.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hazaar was little accustomed to grieving. Most of his experience with it came only before he dung up the recently buried loved ones. So he couldn't really be blamed for a slight sense of desensitization. His work called for it, and that seemed to be put above such things. In this, perhaps the werewolf and his son were more human then Hazaar was anymore, or ever was for that matter. Even as his own parents were slain so many years ago he cared little for the event and more for the circumstance around it. If anything it intensified his occult fascinations. Every tragic event in his long life, he turned into opportunity. It was his nature as a necromancer and a scientist. He did, however, respect the needs of those still in touch with their more tender emotions.

"I'll...go and check if your friend needs any assistance." He let his words trail off; turning from the reduced family before finishing his sentence, as if not wanting to disturb their mourning any more then he had done. His heavy boots however took a much more purposeful tone as they picked up speed against the wood panel floor and, striding through the church doors and into the darkened streets, against cobble stone and tar. The stench of burnt flesh and the amber glow of the hunter's battle was as obvious in the early evening as fireworks. with one hand keeping his hat against his head, Hazaar picked up his speed; ducking through alleyways and over dumpsters in an effort to reach the by now full fed blaze.

[david]

A grim smile formed on the lips of the hunter, the release of the top left actuator giving him the time to recover long enough for the flames to die down. As he watched the destructive monster screech in pain and agony, he saw it launch himself at him.

Perfect. It was just how he wanted it. With it closing in, he cared less of the stench, the smoke and heat barreling down on him and what was waiting for him bellow. The four actuators went into action, putting all their strength in grabbing the beast and allowing their master to reach his hand to his side and retrieve his miniature Gatling gun of his own design.

"That's right," he laughed darkly, launching the weapon and readying to fire as many shots as he could get into that wretched child grinding mouth. If anything, he would take this bloody thing with him. He could already feel the weight bearing down at him, and with a loud yell from both him and his actuators as they gave their all, David made one last comment before he crashed bellow. "I'll see you in hell, you bastard." And he fired, closing his eyes for impact; his finger never left the trigger, not until he was sure the damned thing was dead.

His only regret was that he couldn't keep his half-hearted promise to Lourick. At least he had saved one son and the father from this wretched creature. Maybe it was best that he would not see them again; it was more than he deserved.

[thecrimsonraven]

Gun barrel flash and bullet shine lit up in deep orange and reds against the whirls of pitch black smoke. That roaring maw met with every David had; his gun half way down it's gullet before it full ceases independed function. The great creature's movement through the smoke cloud had carved a tunnel and crisp night air that washed over the hunter in the final moments, taking away the stench of rot and black powder in a moment of calm before the crackle of flames and gravity finally took back time. The force of the bullets ripping through it's already unstable mass had stopped the beast short of it's target. Teeth and bone shards exploding against hot steel, the monster slammed into the fast falling apart rooftop directly at the hunter's feet, aged wood finally giving way to the fire storm below. The whole building finally started to fall in upon itself.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hazaar had heard the shrieking as he entered the alleyways around the blazing warehouse. His eye widened at the painfully familiar sound. He forced his eyes up at the glowing source of the foul smelling smoke. He watched the necromantic construct as it launched itself at the shining arms still spewing fire and napalm. He knew full well that at the end of them was the human hunter, and as the gun fire began; Hazaar thrust one hand into his pocket and another into the velvet pouch at his side. Pulling out a pocket watch with some deep etched magic circle on it's surface and a handful of clay, he pressed the watch cover against the clay and set the piece of earth loose into the burning building and the roof collapsed, the flames bursting with growth as they were opened to the air, Hazaar had to throw himself behind a dumpster just to avoid the blast of heat.

The walls were finally coming down, long placed wood panels crashed into the inferno, the plume of smoke rising high into the nights sky as the sounds of sirens quickly filled the air and dumped the roar of the flames. The creature would be completely devoured by the heat. Hazaar peeked out from his hiding place to see the rather large, humanoid form standing in the alley way against the flickers of chimney red and Halloween orange. Cradled in it's muscular arms was the hunter, some how unscathed by the flames and pulled from the wreckage by Hazaar's summoned Wright. "Ah...right then. That worked out swimmingly. I think..." he gave the evidently unconscious hunter a curiously look before look up at his minion. "Ok...lets get him back to that church then. I'm sure they all have some cry to get to or whatever." He walked ahead of the Wright, leading it out of the maze of alleyways with some speed considering the droves of human mortals and others that were probably being drawn to the scene.

The illustrative church doors were finally broken open, letting blow the breeze of the night that had just started to blow away the scent of fried flesh from the city streets. Hazaar held the door while his minion lumbered in and placed David on benches at the back of the hall. "Go get some water. I'll stay here in case he comes around." His instruction was taken with out question and the Wright slumped off with little concern to the back rooms and the semi-office kitchen Hazaar had discovered earlier. Steadying David upright on the bench, he looked to see f the other human fellow and his son were still in sight. "Ah, hello? Some help would be lovely....just a suggestion."

[lourickbaker]

While the werewolf and his son were still present, whether or not they were in sight was another matter entirely. Having at last relented to the overall strain of what had happened, Lourick had at last taken to a form of repose upon the pew in the front, lying in a half-conscious state with his son fast asleep upon his chest. He heard Hazaar's words, yes, but his will and ability to move was totally contingent upon whether or not he could sit up without waking up his son, let alone putting him down. Swiping a hand back through his damp hair, he refrained from letting out a painful groan as he carefully eased himself up off of his back, rising into view as he carefully got to his feet with the help of the faithful weapon that had been at his side since the beginning of this mess. Lourick was far less than alert, as was made obvious by the weary sigh in his voice as he got up and walked slowly back to where the speech had led him, body leaning heavily on his support as he continued to try not to jar Cory awake - he needed the sleep.

Unfortunately as he began walking, the werewolf soon discovered that his head wasn't the only part of him that seemed to weigh a ton, the concrete footfall making him feel as though he was about to fall right through the floor as he stood. He had to be careful as he put one leaded foot in front of the other, afraid that he would trip out of his own drowsed sense of clumsiness. The further he moved, the more dazed he seemed about the entire ordeal and the further angry his body became with him for moving around so much. Lourick, however, didn't stop until he made his way to the pew. One look in his eyes revealed that his leg was throbbing viciously, his expression barely remniscient of one that was pained.

"What do you need?" he asked, eyes swollen and heavy as he tried to focus them blearily on David and his alleged rescuer. "...What happened?"

[david]

David stirred, waking up with the need to cough violently; which he did as he forcibly rolled himself over to his side. Blood dripped from his mouth, but not unusual. More dead blood. The hunter had yet to open his eyes, and when he did, he immediately shut them. The little light within the church was enough to burn his sensitive eyes. During the fall, he must have lost his protective lenses. Now gulping air before he felt the urge to purge himself of the memory that what was left of the monster was all over him.

David really didn't want to think about it and swallowed unhappily to keep himself together. As the actuators rebooted themselves at the hunter's revived state, they allowed him to see through them; heart lights flicking on as a steady hiss left them. All three were directed at the top left actuator most damaged and began picking off the dead, welded on skin of the beast that had stuck to it. It gratefully allowed them as David sat up.

Pain ran up his spine, which in turn racked through the rest of his body. He held in the will to cry out and only thought it wise to not move much more. "Can you...turn out the lights? ...please?" he asked this weakly, rubbing at his still burning eyes weakly.

Through the link with the actuators he saw that Lourick and his son were there; but his question was directed to the stranger. The one he still felt was wrong. He had to resist the actuators that pleaded with him; they wanted him to allow them to destroy this fake man. He didn't blame them, but he couldn't bare to fight anymore after what had happened.

After all, David wasn't dead, and that only upset him further.