[]Ruined Garage

Scarborough watched idly as Remmy tested out his name. It sounded familiar, although almost distantly so. While he knew instinctively it was his name, he wondered how long it had been since he had heard anyone else say it. He had not the slightest idea how long he had been unconscious, between the life he couldn’t remember but knew he’d had and where he found himself now. Nor did he really care. All the same, he had the feeling that the time he’d lost wasn’t the only reason it felt like he hadn’t introduced himself to anyone for a very long time.

He smiled as Remmy finished getting used to his name. He had the sense he had another part to his name, his first name, he supposed, but he didn’t remember it and didn’t think he would tell it to anyone even if he did. But the sound of Remmy repeating his name brought something unexpectedly to mind, not a memory, per se, just an old tune.

“Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,” He remarked. Funny, he couldn’t remember his first name but he could remember a song.

His expression, however, turned gravely serious as Remmy accidentally revealed the metal device lodged in his wrist, stammered as he floundered for an explanation, and came up with none, resigning at last to holding the offending hand aloft for Scarborough’s examination.

“Hmmm…” Scarborough hummed as he looked over the device, smile quite vanished. It was obviously the same sort of metallic, yet strangely alive substance as the device he had implanted in his chest, though that was covered by his shirt. His wrists were easy enough to see below the edges of his tattered sleeves, but he had no such device in either of his wrists. The one in his chest was larger than the thing in the boy’s wrist, though he didn’t know the significance of either the difference in size or in location. He did not, however, plan to inform the boy of his own device. Not yet, at least.

“Oh dear,” He said, running a finger over the metal surface. First just the fleshy pad, but then he angled it to run what he had of a nail over the substance. He watched Remmy’s down-turned face for a reaction. “This is serious. Not natural at all.” He shook his head, expression remaining stern.

“Yes, something very bad has happened, I’m afraid. Perhaps you don’t remember because you don’t want to remember.” He kept his smile locked inside this time as he looked down at the boy, inhaling deeply through his nose as he felt that scent begin to return. He cared not in the least where he was or what he had forgotten. He was having fun.

Mikhail frowned as he heard the voice behind him. Not that it was noticeable, as his expression had hardly been jovial before, but it was slightly more annoyed now and that’s what mattered. He intended to keep on walking. He knew his objectives, after all, and currently the most important one was to find his way to the roof, and the strange dark-haired man didn’t factor into his plans at all.

Mikhail stopped. He didn’t think about it, he hadn’t wanted to, he just did. On a dime, when the stranger asked him to. For no other reason he could think of. Mikhail’s frown deepened by a few more degrees. He sighed, turning around to face the man again, since everything in his wiring seemed to be physically preventing him from continuing to walk away as he wished to. Entirely frustrating.

“What do you want?” He asked. Right to the point. He didn’t really understand why the man who had introduced himself by tackling Mikhail to the ground was now lecturing him on manners and survival. It seemed a little ironic, actually. Strangely, what the other man said gave him an odd feeling of déjà vu, though it evaporated before he knew what to make of it.

“You’re a funny person to lecture me on manners,” He replied in his rough, drawling voice. “And I am not going where the dogs are. I am going to the roof. The view should be better from there. You can come if you want.” Mikhail turned away from the stranger again, though he did not start walking yet. He was scanning the area for the clearest way to the ramp, which finally seemed accessible at last. Though his tone had been indifferent, however, he had the odd feeling that he wanted the stranger to go with him, even though he had left it up to the other man. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know the person. He didn’t even know his name. But for some unfathomable reason, he didn’t want to keep going by himself. And that went completely against what he could remember of his nature.

Remmy looked mournfully up at Scarborough's serious expression, the boy's eyes pleading with his companion as if silently asking for better news. "Un..unnatural?" he questioned, startled by the sudden change in Scarborough's demeanor. Where was that comforting smile the man had just had, the guardian-like manner in which he had carried himself? Remmy fretted, his eyes catching sight of the thing on his wrist once again. Not natural... The curly-haired teen pursed his lips together and suddenly glared at his left wrist, resenting it as if it had betrayed him of its own conscious accord. You're the unnatural one, he willed to it, eying the metallic device frustratedly. You're the one whose making me feel all messed up. Messing everything up.

But in recent years, not being an individual taken with glaring very often, the boy's angry expression quickly dissipated and was replaced by one of pathetic sorrow, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Being mad, Remmy discovered, was not something he was particularly good at.

What Scarborough said next though, sent an electric shiver right up Remmy's spine, chilling him straight to the bone. “Yes, something very bad has happened, I’m afraid... Perhaps you don’t remember because you don’t want to remember.”

Perhaps you don't remember because you don't want to remember... Remmy's right hand slowly went up to his lips. Terrifying. What an absolutely terrifying notion that was. What could possibly be so...so...terrifying, that his mind absolutely refused to remember it? What was it? What could it be? Was it----no.

Did he even want to know..?

Remmy visibly shivered, hugging his left arm around himself, his right hand still at his mouth. Fingers. Right there. He just waaanted to cheeew them so baaaaadly. No. No. No. Resist. Resist. No matter how freaky a thought that was, no matter how scary it seemed, he had to. Just. Resist.

"Do...do you think that's true Scarborough?", the boy asks softly. "Do you think that's why I can't...remember? Does that...this thing on my wrist---" That strange howling that was echoing off the walls suddenly seemed to grow louder. Remmy jumped, quite positive he heard what sounded like a human scream somewhere amongst the distorted barrage of sound. Startled, Remmy unconsciously ducked his head down and hid behind his companion without even thinking; an almost instinctual move like that of a frightened animal, his eyes wide, deer-like. "Scarborough," Remmy says hoarsely, swallowing. "C-c-can we leave? I want to get---I want us get out of here. I'm scared."

Julya whips around after shoving the final chunk of rubble off, at first afraid and then incredibly relieved. "Oh god, there are more people? Have you seen any others, are you okay?" She makes her way hurriedly across the top of the garage towards the young man, checking him over for obvious injuries as a habit. She was also hoping the people she had seen at ground level could handle themselves now... she was lucky she had been able to buy them any time at all.

She had always been a protective person so she hardly questions how she draws herself closer to the boy, even though her arm twinges almost as if it were reminding her of how wrong things are, now. She felt very, very sick but gritted her teeth against it. Freak out later, freak out later, that was the rule. Freak out when there's a safe place where no one can see you because freaking out tends to be contagious and in a situation like this that is very, very bad.

She withholds her questions. Mostly because she is almost certain this boy won't know the answers either.

Saeth merely smirks (a pleased, self-assured and now slightly more confident sort of smile) when the other stopped walking and did, indeed, turn to face him. Even though he felt the pull to join him yet, but decides to continue to stand his ground. Just for effect, he figures. Might as well try to keep the upper hand in these sorts of situations.

The smirk doesn’t disappear when he speaks, the same sort of snap on his tongue though toned down and the same sort of snark he carried with him like a razor. “Well, sorry for tackling you. But I’ll remember your ideas on manners next time I think I’m in a life-threatening situation. I might have missed some information.”

Saeth looks up – the direction of the roof, of course. He eyes the garage again, trying to further familiar himself with what is now his setting until changes. He doesn’t expect to stay close to this garage for long, not if there are angry sounding animals prowling around it. The roof sounded like a safe bet – get as high as you can. When the stranger turned around he took the few steps to close the distance again, bumping his arm against the stranger’s. Entirely on accident, of course, and not meant to mean anything.

“You wouldn’t want to go by yourself,” Saeth says. He also didn’t want to be alone, which was a win-win situation. Unless the stranger turned out to be entirely unable to fend for himself, in which case he would be most likely screwed. He did speak of having a gun, so that either meant he took care of himself well or relied on fire arms. Saeth starts to head towards the ramp, but passes.

“Oh, where are my manners?” he says, stressing the last word. He extends his hand animatedly, though he had no intention of actually shaking hands. For a second he hesitated on offering his real name (it was all he had of himself) but brushed it away. A name couldn’t hurt anyone. “My name is Saeth.”

Distant thunder rumbles as the sun filters lazily through thick gray clouds, columns of light piercing the canopy of fluff to shine on the lands below. Barking, trumpets and chatter gradually became louder as the thunder turned into the stamping of hooves and the telltale clarion of a hunting party echoed across the horizon. Coming to a halt on a ridge overlooking the thick forests in the valley below, the party dismounted and made to observe the scenery lying before them.

Vines and rose bushes covered the hillside, blooming scarlet in the twilight sun, and crept into the forest of large gnarled trees surrounding the remains of an old decrepit settlement. A few broken-down carriages, buildings and an abandoned cathedral dotted the landscape and provided something for the thorns to grow over. Off in the distance, wolf howls interrupted the long silence.

"Signs of movement in the brush, my Lord." One of the knights remarked, hand above his eyes to offer him protection from the glare.
"The wolves seem feisty. Must be something of interest down there." Another knight commented. He seemed tracked on the movement of shadows passing through the woods.
"Yes," answered Sir Rusty, his armor glinting in the sunlight. "And I've decided to supe on wolves' flesh tonight. Dismount and engage."

The hunting party let out a simultaneous "UR-RAH!" and dismounted together. Two stayed behind, as was customary, and the rest began the long descent down the hill and to the source of the sounds...

Sir Rusty slid down a slope covered in rubble, the remains of the destroyed city parting under the weight of his armored feet. Going down what had once been a skyscraper but had now been turned into an artificial hill, chunks of concrete and construction material flaked off from his path and tumbled down away from him into the many shattered windows that dotted the side of the ancient building. Reaching a large crack in the building and an interruption in his descent, he looked carefully at the side of the slope he was on and began scaling it down. A few minutes later, he stood on firm ground, and the old cathedral towered over him from behind a few rows of low-cut buildings. Clapping his gloves to remove some dust, he began walking carefully towards the source of the snarling, eyes wide and ready for danger...

"Uh--...Y-yeah I'm fine--" He was at a momentary loss for words, a tad bit startled by her lack of suspicion and wondering if that alone should make him suspicious. He shook the thought from his head--he'd much rather take the risk and trust this woman. He was tired and in pain; suspicion wasn't worth the effort right now.

"I haven't seen anyone besides you--just heard yelling. And dogs--"


((Ah God short reply is short I'm so sorry I can't think of anything ;___; ))

Bridhe huddled against the car door on the rusted and rotted floorboard. He kicked broken glass away from him with a dirty sneaker, dirty little chunks clinging to the wrinkles of his jeans. The freckled boy shuddered, clinging desperately to that dirty rebar, trying to ignore the stinging ache where the metal bit into his skin, leaving behind rust and dirty scratches.

"Oh God. If you exist. Please. I'll promise not to make fun of Christians anymore..." Bridhe's voice cracked, his shaky pleas rambling out in spite of the lack of any obvious audience. He shook the hair from his eyes, almost relaxing when he head the sound of those... Creatures... Coming closer. His eyes clenched shut, theearlier pseudo-calm he had earlier rapidly disintegrating as he muttered "I am not here, they cannot find me." in low tones under his breath.

Unfortunately, the ginger didn't seem to have the ability to repel danger with words.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the sound of those beasts came closer still, scratching at the broken pavement around his sorry little fortress. He held his breath, opening his eyes slowly... Just in time to watch as a mouth full of teeth and slobber tried to come through the broken window. Bridhe did something any responsible and courageous male would do: He screamed like a girl.

The concrete and rebar came up, catching the toothdog under the chin as he screamed again, somehow scurrying into the front seat away from those gnashing teeth. The dog's head hit the roof, momentarily stunned as Bridhe huddled as far under the dashboard as he could.

"G-go away! Before I call the dog catcher! I-I don't want rabies!"

Scarborough fought down a smile as he watched Remmy glaring at his wrist before anger gave way to despair. Scarborough was so very glad that of all the people he might have run into in that parking structure, he had found Remmy. He was exactly the sort of person who was the most fun to play with. Innocent, insecure, and entirely too trusting. So easily swayed by what Scarborough, or likely anyone who could make themselves seem authoritative, said. Perhaps Scarborough’s mother had told him not to play with his food, in another life, but in his opinion, the food just didn’t taste as good until he’d mashed it up into an unrecognizable, splattered mess.

He licked his lips subtly as he felt the intoxicating scent of fear intensify. He enjoyed the way Remmy was hanging on all of his words now. Yes, he had the boy under his control now, and soon, as soon as he desired, he would…oh, but why would he want to do that to Remmy? Scarborough’s eyes narrowed slightly, surprised he had even had that thought. Why, because it was fun. What greater reason did he need? But when he is dead, the fun will end. Dead things respond to nothing. Of course not, but it was not enough to cause fear without the knowledge, the anticipation of the terrible things he was going to do and those were invariably fatal. Besides, there were always more things to kill. The world was overflowing with living things. He was doing it a favor, really…

But what if there are no others as fun as this one? Not all people are so easily misled and controlled. He is valuable, he is specially entertaining, he is perfect, and it would be such a shame to kill him now, when there is so much more fun to be had. Mm, well Scarborough supposed he – if it really was himself he was arguing with, it would hardly surprise him and did not bother him, as he had long since been deemed insane anyway – had a point. Perhaps it would do to keep Remmy around for longer. He would always kill him later, if he ever ceased to be fun. Scarborough turned his attention back to Remmy, sighing deeply and knowingly.

“Of course it is true. If they had not committed unimaginable horrors upon you, surely you would remember why you were here. Naturally it must be connected with the thing on your wrist. There could very well be more things like it beneath your skin and you wouldn’t even know about it, would you? Perhaps that piece is just the tip of the iceberg.”

Scarborough let the grin slide across his face as Remmy hid behind him from the awful combination of sounds. It was no Chopin, but it was music to his ears all the same. A single scream carried more emotional charge than any music could ever hope to capture.

“Of course you are,” Scarborough purred, glancing idly around the parking garage. “It’s a scary world.” He turned, however, extending his hand to Remmy as he let the other see his smile. “Yes, we should leave now. I will protect you, if you come with me.”

Good, she nods to him when he says he's fine. "The dogs..." She glanced over her shoulder and back to Caddie. "Those aren't dogs, honey. I just got a couple that were chasing people down on ground level. We're in trouble if they come up here, so we'd better find someplace safe. Or some weapons. I don't know what they are, but they're hungry or rabid or something." There's nothing besides concrete chips around, and that won't do them any good. She starts walking towards the ramp that leads downward. "C'mon, we need to start looking. Better to stick together."

That's how it always worked when there was trouble. Stick together, don't go out alone. She was very grateful for her training about now.

The knight in Shining Armor reaches the bottom of the thorn bushes, which opens onto valley and forests. The sound of growling grows ever closer, and is suddenly punctuated by notes of prayer:
"O father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
If ever you were to grant me the protection to survive this ordeal, I would never question those of faith again.
Shield me from the eyes of those who would harm me,
and make me hidden to those who would seek to hurt me.
Amen."

The voice was young and fair, it's tone innocent and afraid. Rounding a particularly high boulder, the group fell onto a scene of horror. Wolves had attacked a carriage, brutally slaughtered the driver and another passenger who must have been riding on the driver's bench. The cabin's windows were mostly intact save for one through which a wolf was attempting to attack the inside passengers. Unsheathing their swords, the knights charged into battle as the wolves turned to face them...

Sir Rusty immediately unsheathed his sword and unslung his shield, the familiar weight of the v-shaped metal following every movement of his arm. He spun his sword using his wrist once, tilted his neck to each side until the satisfying *pop* of cartilage was achieved, and ran towards the tooth-dogs at full tilt.

The armor clanged as his tassets bounced against his cuisse, his pauldrons clanged against his gorget and his sabatons dug into the rubble underneath his feet. His helmet, still open until that point, closed over his face as his entire body tilted forwards 45 degrees into the run. His sword was pointed forwards, with the handle held next to him, arm extended.

The first wolf snarled as it leapt into the airs, legs forwards as it intended to dig into what it thought to be another fleshy victim. The knight ran straight at it, meeting the animal head on.

CRUNCH

Rusty's shield went right through the tooth-dog's face as the pointed end of the V carved into the back of the animal's throat. It let out a pained gurgle as the force of the impact first cut through soft flesh, severed ligaments and tendons, crushed both the windpipe then the bone at the back of the creature's neck. The animal's top jaw fell to the floor as it was brutally cleft from the rest of it's body and the fresh crimson of blood splashed to the ground. Shifting the weight to the side, Sir Rusty unceremoniously shoved the shocked tooth-dog to the side and kept on sprinting to the carriage.

The rest of the pack quickly backed away as it saw how it's member had been bested. The only creature that remained was the alpha, head still greedily snarling through the broken glass. The knight continued running towards it, bringing up his sword in a two-handed grip as he dropped his shield.

Dropping the sword in a single powerful stroke, Sir Rusty cut through all twelve inches of the beast's gruesome neck, beheading it cleanly enough so that the head fell forwards into the cabin instead of back outside with the swing. Flicking the blood from his blade, Sir Rusty watched as the tooth-dog's beheaded corpse fell sideways to the ground and lay there, twitching. A long breath escaped from his lungs and he stared at the cloudy sky a little, as the beams of sunlight pierced through in columns of diffused yellow glow.

"M...m...mmmmmore? Beneath my..." The boy blinked and holds up his wrist, staring blankly at the metallic thing infused there. "Beneath.....my......" Remmy's fragile mind reeled at the very thought of such a horror; strange metal devices covering his entire body, only, only---he couldn't see them he couldn't see ANY OF THEM but they were there THEY WERE THERE OH GOD but they ran all through him, in his stomach, his brain, sending chills up his spine, under his fingers his fingers his hands oh god oh god what if I chew too hard WHAT IF I BITE ONE, TASTE METALLIC UNDER MY FINGERNAILS but I can't see them, if I can't see them they're not there they're still there as long as I just don't think, no, no, no...

"...No," Remmy whispered softly, letting his hand fall back down limply at his side. His dark green eyes stared blindly forward, seeming almost blank, distant. The boy's expression was bland, zombie-like. He blinked once, not really focusing his gaze at anything in particular. "Bad Things. That is..that idea. That thought. Happening. Yeah, that's definitely a Bad Thing. That is...definitely a Bad Thing, Scarborough." Remmy's green eyes suddenly flick upwards, finally refocusing on something; his companion. "When....Bad Things happen and you think about them or see them or live them, you have to collect them... You put them all together in one big pile, and then you put them away. You take them and you hide them away in your brain and you don't think about them. You pretend they don't exist. If you don't think about Bad Things they go away. They keep hiding. If you don't think about Bad Things----" Remmy held up his hands again, turning them over and looking at all the gnaw marks and scabs and bites he had there. "---you don't feel so sick that you have to chew your fingers over them." Remmy shivered slightly however, perhaps not fully convinced of his own brand of odd logic.

"...I'm pretty sure," the boy said softly, wrapping his arms around himself as if chilled. "That I've hidden lots and lots of Bad Things away in lots of corners..." Without thinking too deeply on the matter, Remmy pondered this notion, and his expression slowly seemed to wilt to one of melancholy.

This would be different though. Oh yes, that's right. It would. Remmy hadn't the foggiest idea where he was, and it was as if he barely even knew who he himself was. But it was going to be okay. He wasn't alone like before-before, long time ago maybe he was in elementary school, middle school. No, he had a friend. A friend and guardian. He had Scarborough with him after all. Scarborough promised to protect him. Scarborough promised to watch over him. Scarborough promised to keep him safe. Scarborough, Scarborough, Scarborough...

"Scarborough, Scarborough, Scarborough," Remmy repeated aloud, lightly. He liked the man's name. It rolled off his tongue. Like a song. It had lots of letters and three syllables. It was a different name. A nice name. The hint of a smile came back to Remmy's face as he peered through his curly bangs up at a man whom he, as of right now, couldn't fathom as having any wicked intentions. The mysterious, raucous howling started up again, assailing Remmy's ears, causing him to flinch again, and he immediately grabbed Scarborough's outstretched hand in sudden fear of the sound. After pausing for a moment to catch his breath, Remmy looks back up at his guardian and offers him a quiet, nervous squeak of a giggle.

"Yeah...yeah...I'll go with you Scarborough." He grinned up at him, trying to suppress how scared he felt at the sound of the noises---and the thought that they might even end up passing very near the source of them. He hugged Scarborough's hand close to him for safety, the man's massive beastly hand almost engulfing Remmy's small scarred ones. Safe. Scarborough would keep him safe. Almost like...like... Remmy paused, thinking. Oh. Parents. A father, how nice, but a real dad not like his dad, a real father dad daddy dad

As the odd pair of them, a monstrous murderer with a sugary smile partnered with a sweet but delightfully deranged escapist took their first tentative steps away from the wreckage of the car that Remmy had first been found in, the boy looked up at the older man, almost beaming despite their situation.

"Thank-you," he says suddenly. Remmy vaguely listens to his old sneakers stepping against the grizzled pavement. Echo, echo. Adding to the whirlwind. The sound. He could hear Scarborough's feet too; the man's steps were larger, heavier than his own. Sounds. "...I can't remember.. and I don't know if I'm a useful or good person; but I guess I don't want really want to die," Remmy says matter-of-factly, putting his free hand to his mouth and nibbling gently on his pointer finger. "So...thank-you. For..." The boy's green eyes seem to smile at his companion. "Thanks for finding me. If any Bad Things want to find me, they have two of us now." Scarborough will keep me safe, Remmy thought. It was like a mantra. A promise. Happiness. Hope. A light, something that made sense in the weirdness, the darkness, the confusion.

Little did he know, how fragile it all was.

All Bridhe could taste was bile. Hot and burning as he vomited on the seat of the car he was wedged in front of. The sounds of his sick faded as he shuddered, watching as that bleeding headless body sloughed out of the window onto the ground in a limp pile. The head had bounced off the rotted floor, one creey eye still open and staring at him as it slowly glassed over, as malicious as it had been during life. It frightened him, it was the sort of introduction that scared people away for good, only Bridhe had the feeling that he really had a long way to go before actually leaving.

Bridhe wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, recoiling as he spat out some blood in a panic before actually looking at his arm. Apparently the splatter from the sudden decapitation of the dog-thing that attacked him had splattered on him, leaving him mottled with quickly drying crimson.

"Ugh..." Was all he managed, fighting the urge to vomit again as he opened that decaying door before hesitantly unfolding himself off of that floor. He only glanced around once, the twitching bodies of some of the beasts catching his eye before he felt that familiar feeling of vertigo. He leaned against the car, only to kick the body of the "canine" that had attacked him. "Oh, fuck. Fuck. fuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCK."

His voice cracked again as he screamed, kicking that body before recoiling, his food hiting heavy flesh and bone. Even through his sneaker that hurt. He hugged himself, fighting back the desperate urge to cry (fuck, he wasn't going to cry, what was he, three?) before finally glancing up at the man in armor. His face wilted a little, as if he seemed to be fighting some battle and losing.

"U-uhm." Shit, this guy was wearing armor, and covered and blood, and CARRYING A SWORD. "Thank you?"

As Bridhe stepped away from the car he glanced down, looking dumbfoundedly at his own "weapon" before letting the heavy, dangerous thing drop to the ground with a loud clatter. When he looked back at the stranger he felt the strangest sensations, like something clinging to the edges of his consciousness (these weren't his, he knew that much at least). Combined with the fuzzy, tingling, somewhat ticklish sensation crawling up the arm with that silver thing (Maybe that didn't belong there, afterall?), the red-head was unsure if he wanted to move forward or not.

"Where are we?"

The man in tattered armor had been looking almost directly upwards, as if looking for a sun that was only hinted at from behind the roiling grey cloudscape above. The noise the young ginger had been making snapped him from his almost dreamlike haze as his helmet turned to look at the boy stumbling out of the car. He would have to make this quick, he only had few moments of sanity before he reverted to his more.... enthusiastic self.

"Where are we?", asked the boy. Great... a new batch. Petulant perverts. I'll skin from them their hides, one day.
"We're in a closed environment. A very large one inside of which there is nothing but destroyed city, mutant monsters and the occasional lab rat that gets dropped in here to see how long they survive." The two tooth-dog corpses continued to bleed out. The pools of crimson now covered a few square feet of space.

He flicked his sword, getting most of the blood off the blade before wiping both sides of it against the hem of a cloth hanging from his waist. Sheathing it, he made sure the satisfying click was achieved before picking his shield back up. Raising his visor, his weary green eyes stared bright from inside the shade his helmet provided.

"We're the lab rats. And unless you want to wait for the group of-" *hurnh*

The look in the man's eye's was more feral, now, less tired and focused past the ginger's head, as if he were looking at something that wasn't really there.

"Your thanks are unneeded, young lad. I am Sir Rusty, Dragonslayer and member of the Order of Fifteen Cardinal Directions. Defending those in need is only natural for a knight errant such as I, and for one who professed so sincerely to the Lord I can be counted on to be a staunch ally. But now is nary a time to banter, boy, for the pack of wolves is sure to return in order to avenge their brethren, and I can hear many more in need of our assistance at the besieged cathedral!

What say ye, follow me as we defend the innocent together? Or will you attempt to find sanctuary in the surrounding woods?"

P.S. There are no trees in sight.

Bridhe looked at the stranger blankly, the shock of what he had seen still settling on his brain like a haze as he stepped a little closer to the taller male. His mouth was open a little as he tried to absorb what was being said, but the words did little more than buzz around his ears.

"Lab... Rats..."

He managed to hear those two words, a shiver going down his spine as their sunk into his dazed consciousness. Lab Rats. Rats from a lab. They were part of an experiment. Did that mean there had been life before this? Of course, he wasn't just born beside a broken-down car yesterday. Of course, this explained quite a bit, but also managed to open an entirely new avenue of questions.

"The group of what? W--" Bridhe stepped back, hands clenching uselessly at his sides as he watched the face of that taller stranger with another shiver. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting like that? Bridhe shuddered, covering his mouth as he hunched over, trying to figure out just what he felt. No, this wasn't his own... Was it? What was going on?

He looked up as the man started talking abruptly, biting his lip almost viciously as the man's personality did an almost complete 180.

"What?" Professed so sincerely to the lord? Was this some sort of cosmic joke played at his expense? Bridhe's brows furrowed before he closed his eyes, rubbing his temples a little before looking outside. "W-woods?! What are you talking about? We're in a city, there are no trees anywhere near here."

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking steadily at "Sir Rusty" before glancing outside once more.

"You know what, you're batshit, but you also just saved my ass. Fine. Let's go. I'll do what I can to help you, but I don't guarantee that will be much anything at all."

"Batshit?"

The armored man's eyes narrowed. He took two steps towards the boy before pointing his sword arm's index finger accusingly at the new arrival.

"Listen well, churl. In this kingdom the most dangerous thing is one's mouth. Not the wolves, not the giant rocs and not the abominations who wander the countryside. Not every person you encounter is going to be as charitable or forgiving as myself, and I have seen good men slain before my eyes for implying less than perhaps doubtful sanity.

Free will is a terrible thing, young man, and in this purgatory where we are reborn without name or memory the only way to judge oneself is by your actions. That said, you must have recently departed your last life - you would not have survived another day with as weak an attitude as that."

Sir Rusty's finger lowered, his eyes returned to their previous feral gaze and he reached to his belt and undid the loop for a short mace the length of a forearm. He dropped the heavy blunt weapon at the Ginger's feet, cracking several small stones as the ridged mace's weight crushed them. The weapon looked like a short stick with a slightly larger cylinder at the end and was crowned by ridged metal "wings".

Rusty leaned in closer to Bridhe as he said this, clenching his fist and shaking it in front of his chest in an intense manner:
"That said, I am willing to forgive your lack of respect due to the disorientation each new soul experiences upon entering this world. Your potential as a young man is great, and it would be a waste to see you rush to an early doom. Prove your worth to me, young man. Pick up the mace, and I will make it one of my duties to protect you, to see to it that one day you too can be a proud knight of this kingdom!"

Bridhe actually took a step back as that finger was pointed at him, looking briefly like he was about to run for it. It was sheer will that seemed to overpower that "fight or flight" instinct, those hazel eyes moving up to look Rusty in the eye as the man spoke. The ginger-haired boy physically bit his tongue to stay his errant jaw, his hands twitching a little as they were forced to stay by his side.

He looked away briefly, catching sight of the corpses that littered the scarred and broken pavement like so much trash before closing his eyes. Bridhe listened, there was too much insult in the air. Too much anger and irritation. That wasn't his, he knew it wasn't his, there was no logical reason for him to be reacting in such a way.

These emotions, reactions, belonged to Rusty, this strange man who just happened to be there to keep him from being dogchow. It was almost strong enough to trigger that sense of vertigo again, boiling over him like waves until he took a step back. Bridhe looked up at him, glaring a little as the knight commented on his weak attitude. He looked almost childish for a moment, but that may have been because of his small stature and the unknowing jut of his bottom lip in a pout.

When the knight moved the smaller of the two watched curiously, physically jumping back as that mace hit the pavement, cracking cement before falling over with a loud, metallic clatter.

"W-what?" His voice cracked again before he looked down at the weapon, obviously hesitating out of sheer pride and fear. Bridhe didn't seem to notice that his face was an open book, broadcasting his thoughts through expression unintentionally. He glanced away once more, briefly going through what limited options he had before leaning down to pick the heavy object up. It seemed "early doom" hit a little too close to home for his tastes. "Uhm. Sorry. It's... A little much for me to... You know, absorb... I don't even know where I'm at."

He picked up that mace, feeling the weight (a little too heavy, but he didn't know if that was good or not) before slowly letting it lower once more. A mental note was added to "Not insult the crazy guy with a sword", advice he probably should have taken before he opened his big mouth.

"Uhm, I'm Bridhe."

Wraith has been very, very careful about avoiding all the other people he's seen around. Because large groups are good targets and a good target is most definitely what he does not want to be right now. So he's rushed right on by other pairs, ignored the dying, ignored the dead. Wraith's a bleeding heart, he'll admit that to himself, but he knows that trying to fight these dogs off for other people is only going to add him to the body count too. Sure, he'd like to be a hero, but he knows he's not.

So it's his own survival first. As usual. As always.

There's been a couple dogs that have attempted to come his way. He's mostly managed to get away by calling up some of his hastier visualizations (great big screechy malformed things, their shrieks echoing terribly loudly, bouncing off the concrete walls). Honestly, he's not sure if the dogs are scared or just extremely confused by the sights and the sounds, but no matter -- they were all distracted enough for him to get the hell out of there.

He's far away from where he started now and things are a little quieter here. Though he's fairly certain he'll have dogs after him eventually, one way or another. For now, he wants to see where this garage is going to take him. He's made it all the way to the top level, and there's nowhere to go now but out.

More broken pillars. The ceiling's caved in bad here. But that means he can escape by climbing up the debris and getting to the rooftop... and then take a good hard look at his surroundings to figure out where the hell he is, anyway.

Wraith grins and pulls his hat tighter on over his head as he strides towards the chunks of concrete that were once part of the ceiling. He hasn't a clue where he is or what the dogs are or how he even got here. But he's damn interested in finding out.

Wraith clambers over the debris with little trouble, although there's a brief moment of panic when a foothold gives out underneath him and the crash as the concrete hits the floor makes him wince. Still, nothing terrible happens and he makes it to the roof of the garage fully intact.

He pauses in order to adjust his hat again, looking around. He can see the cathedral nearby, can hear chaos from within, and pays it no mind. Besides that... well, it's a city. It's a rather dilapidated looking city (and that makes him a little uneasy -- what happened here? The last thing he remembers is falling asleep in the back of a pickup truck, he'd been hitchhiking, he doesn't think he'd been hitchhiking to here).

There's a fire escape ladder at the edge and Wraith wanders over, out of curiosity more than anything. He's fairly certain he hears dogs in the streets so he's quite content to stay as high as he can but--

Wraith reaches the edge, crouches, leans over, and finds himself staring straight at a girl scrambling up the ladder.

(Something clicks in his head. Sudden fear and worry, not for himself but for her, and he doesn't even know her name.)

He blinks and finds himself flat on his stomach, one hand gripping the edge of the roof. The other outstretched to snatch the girl by her arm (and part of him still has the time to notice that she, like himself and everyone else he's seen, has that weird metallic thing in her wrist).

Also, those damn dogs are now trying to pull the whole ladder down.

Wraith clenches his teeth together and yanks back on the girl's arm before the structure can give way completely. "Okay, c'mon, up!"

While she doesn’t exactly rip her arm from Wraiths’ helping hand, there is an involuntary retractive twitch when he grabs her, pressing against the metal lodged in her wrist bone. (She doesn’t want to trust her life to this stranger, but there is a sinking feeling in her stomach that says to go along with his rescue attempt.)

The groaning remains of the metal fasteners sang out one final, high-pitched note before falling away from the brick wall and leaving the girl suspended but for her caped saviour and her own hand holding fast to the edge of the building. The metal staircase caved into the alley causing even more ruckus from the dogs. Being cheated of their meal, the animals instead focused on scampering along the metal and barking loudly at the two.


As carefully as possible, she pulled herself up (with more than a little of Wraith’s help) onto the roof. The adrenaline and panic kept her from tears, or speaking, or much of anything but strained panting and small quivers. While staring at her shaking hands, she realised she could feel her heartbeat against the dead metal in her wrist...


She stoped her diagnosis short, distracted by a sudden howl from below and a quick observation of the alley proveed that the dogs have finally realised that they cannot reach their prey from below- but rather the rest of the pack can.


“Oh no, oh no oh nonononono-” She chanted through painful gasps. There was no time to thank the strange man in the poncho, hopefully he can fend for hims-


(Only half a dozen steps from the edge of the building, and already her knees give way. The sky and the ground blur into kaleidoscope colours for those two seconds that feel like forever it takes for her to fall to her knees.)

The armored man's face now gently eased into a smile. His gaze was less aggressive but still just as intense. The two sides of his smile curled just high enough above the bottom lip of his helmet to reveal his now cheerful disposition.

"Bridhe, a good name for one with as fiery a mane as yours!"

His head suddenly turned as echoes of snarls and howls came past the corner, helmet clanging shut with the screeching of dirty metal. Drawing his sword immediately, he seemed to be speaking and motioning to someone that his young partner obviously couldn't see.

"Two men are to head down the alley and secure a fallback route. The rest of you are to head to the cathedral immediately. I will take care of the beasts around here best as I can and rendezvous with you at the altar. Make haste. I can almost smell them."

He then turned to the young ginger, the narrow slits of his faceplate revealing furrowed brows and something akin to fury in his eyes.
"The wicked beasts approach, Bridhe. If they are to get past me, swing for their nose. The scent of their own blood will cloud their senses and blind them long enough to deliver a finishing blow. We must now make our way to the besieged cathedral, where closed quarters will provide us with-"

*CLANG*

The loud clang of metal was extremely loud, definitely close, and the snarling and barking that accompanied it was definitely right across the corner. Some yelling could be heard, people were definitely nearby and possibly in need of assistance.

"NOW, Bridhe! There are some who require our help!"

Sir Rusty ran from next to the destroyed car to the other side of an open doorway.... right into a group of about 5 snarling animals that had been attempting to climb up a ladder. The first dog barked at him, to which he reacted by letting out an ever louder yell.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The wolves continued to look at the knight in shining armor, unsure what to make of this thing that smelt of blood and metal before them. Knowing his chances to be less than good if he were to be swarmed, the knight continued to make as much noise as he could in an attempt to intimidate the beasts.

He began to bang his sword against his shield, producing a loud metallic clanging that only seemed to anger the animals more. Their ears flattened against their heads as their snouts curled in agony at the sound, and they began to back away from the source of the pain, snarling and barking at the one who had interrupted their hunt.

Finally, one of the animals could not bear the noise any longer, it barked loudly, saliva dribbling from it's viciously curved teeth, and ran right at the man before it. Jumping directly at him, it came claws extended, teeth bared and entirely filled with ill intentions.

Rusty immediately stopped his strategy as the situation turned sour. The first beast was easy to dispatch as it lunged straight at him, impaling itself through the roof of it's chest-mouth on his extended sword, but the strength of the lunge was enough for it to slam against him and force him to the ground. The rest of the dogs immediately saw the opportunity, and Rusty could only watch while the four of them began running right at him, dead tooth-dog a heavy weight on his chest...

The yelling, clamor, screaming was increasing, and Julya was quick to notice the noises echoing directly from around the half-smashed remains of what must have been where the elevator down to street level or the neighboring mall. "You can wait here if your leg is messed up. I'll be right back, just watch that ramp and yell if you see any of those... dog... things, okay?" She couldn't wait for the conformation, she trusted the young man enough to be able to handle the task, especially if they depended on it.

She clambered bare-foot over the mess of concrete, careful to avoid the pieces of rusted metal and splinters of glass. How long ago had this been crushed? The question was quick in passing, because she felt a bit uneasy the further from the boy she got. A bit sick.

Sure enough though, there were other people, and she arrived quick enough to see the woman fall to her knees. She calls and waves to them, though it feels a bit of a stretch and it becomes harder to walk she pushes forward.

"You! Hey! Are you two okay at all...? Hey! Don't worry there's more people, it's safer up here too." She kept her voice even, tried to wave to direct them away from the edge and hoped that they would trust her despite the confusion. If she had her uniform, it would be easier. Uniforms for rescue officials made sure people knew they could trust you, emblazoned with symbols that stated their capability clearly.

There was clearly no such thing as that in such a chaotic environment.

Bridhe wondered just who the hell this guy was talking to, watching him give directions to thin air with a rather hopeless and pitiful smile of his own.

Oh shit.

He was fucked.

The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand up again, his gaze fearfully going to Rusty's covered face before looking in the direction of the noises. Bridhe's stomach clenched, the mace in his hand shifting as he clenched it tighter. There was no way he could outrun these things, so it seemed the best option was to try and help out Rusty.

"Augh. I'm too fucking young to be turned into dog chow. S-swing for the nose. Right. Nose." He jumped at the sound of the metal, rising above the snarling and barking. Maybe some of Rusty's confidence (or insanity, it was hard to tell which) rubbed off on Bridhe, because as the man took off the smaller male took off after him. Nasty sneakers slapped against pavement unheard over the dogs as he skid into the doorway, a brief thrill running through his spine as Rusty uttered his warcry.

"Fuck. AUUUUGH!" His own attempt was less than intimidating, his mind blocking out the sight of the sword going through the canine on Rusty's chest. He gave another scream, matching his terrified shriek earlier as he slung that mace haphazardly, somehow managing to snag a dog's nose with a crack. The weapon shuttered as he jerked that weight back, ignoring the tearing pain in his shoulders as he caught the same mutt in the skull. Bones breaking, bones breaking, bones breaking Idon'tseethebloodandbrains.

"FUCK. FUCKITY FUCK. Motherfucking fuck." He couldn't seem to get his mouth to say anything else as he trembled, swinging at the next dog as obscenities poured from his mouth. "GODDAMNIT WHERE'S A FUCKING SHOTGUN WHEN YOU NEED ONE?!"

His voice cracked again as he screamed that last statement, panting as he tried to keep his wits about him enough to try and track the dogs. The red-head obviously wasn't used to fighting, reacting in a frenzied panic as a dog decided he looked as tasty as the metal-clad man on the floor. He managed to to little more than knock it away before he swung at another one blindly.

"I don't know how to use this thing! It you die here, guy, I swear I will do something completely OBSCENE AND ILLEGAL WITH YOUR CORPSE. DO YOU HEAR ME?"