Well now.
I do believe I've recovered an old friend. I'm quite anxious to see what he's been up to.
St. James Cathedral
Like so many of the other churches and cathedrals in New York, this one seems to have planted smack dab in the middle of the city's twenty-four hour bustle, like an ancient, stoic sentinel watching over the younger buildings in its vicinity. St. James seems to be no exception. Built from the traditionally simple stone and mortar, this aged structure obviously has quite a few years of weight resting upon its shoulders, but someone is doing a remarkably good job of upkeep. Inside, the cathedral is dark and vast and somber, the arched ceiling disappearing up into the shadows of the rafters, while across the walls fading murals of scenes from the Bible have been painted. The pews are beginning to fall apart here and there, but the flagstone aisles are neatly swept. Throughout the various alcoves and hallways, the comforting glow of candlelight is ubiquitous, the many votive stands always seeming to have at least one of their charges faithfully a'gleam.
[Exits : [T]o the [R]oof, and [Out]side ]
Walter walks softly in and stands silently at the front of the sanctuary, hands folded before him, gloves reflecting the candlelight off of their lustered black surfaces. He eyes the new arrival with a benevolent glance, before scanning the other individuals in the church. When his gaze meets that of the rodent, he clenches his fists slightly.
Murid is stood at the front of the church, arms folded, striking a pose not unlike the Ninth Doctor, as he looks up at the depiction of Jesus. "I wonder if he was a mutant." he says to no-one in particular, before the new figure walks over and meets his gaze. The mouseboy eyes back evenly, his long tail swishing behind him. "...Problem?"
Stryker glances up to find a normal-looking priest...and a positively disgusting rat-boy. He pockets the rosary, standing suddenly with renewed conviction, and sidesteps into the aisle. "Goodness, it's a talking rodent. Father, did the pesticides prove themselves ineffective again?" He smiles widely. "Murid, so good to see you. That /is/ you under all that fur, friend? It's been so long, you must have hit your puberty by now." Thankfully, no other parishioners are present, so he can be a little more free with his speech than normal.
Walter nods to the man in the aisle. "Yes, Colonel, I'm sorry." He grins to the rat and spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture, though his eyes are cold as ice. "Here, my son. I am sorry, but we do discourage rats, mutants, demons, and other such pestilence from maintaining their presence in the sanctuary. Apparently, you fall into all of those categories."
Murid turns with surprise as he hears a voice that's strangely familiar. He recognises Stryker immediately, of course, and scowls, showing off long incisors that have been filed into points. The scowl isn't full, though; there must be at least a little fear. He does not afford Stryker a reply, instead turning to the minister, the scowl remaining. "I'm neither rat, demon or pestilence. I'm a person same as -you-." the latter word is said grudgingly.
Stryker smirks slightly and inclines his head towards Walter. "Father McAllister, I'll be waiting outside, if you'd care to drive him there. I apologize for the intrusion, and I imagine I'll be seeing you shortly." He turns and smiles at Murid. "So good to see you again, friend. You and the preacher play nice, now, y'hear?" He beams and exits, pulling his coat close as he steps out into the rain, the large wooden door slamming behind him.
Walter cracks his knuckles and splays his fingers, holding spread hands out to his sides. "M'lad. You're not a person, you're an unholy monster, an abomination, and a disgrace to all mankind. You defile the Lord's House with your presence, and as such should be punished." He lowers his left arm, bur raises his right, in a fist, in front of him. His arm swings back, then forward. Long strands of barely perceptible wire stretch from between the fingers of the glove, the candlelight reflecting off of them. They wrap around an unfortunate pillar candle. The Father jerks his wrist, and the candle falls in slices to the floor. Another wrist flick, and the wire returns to the glove.
Murid watches Stryker go, still with that scowl, and "If you think you're gonna control me that easily..." before he turns back to the minister. Following the little show, the mouseboy looks surprised, but stands his ground. "I haven't seen anything in the Bible saying that God wasn't my creator. -You're- the one being unreasonable."
Walter scowls now, brow furrowes in irritation bordering on anger. "On the contrary. Man was created in God's image. You're nothing more than a common sewer rat, and a filthy, oversized one at that." He raises both hands and gestures with his arms. Wire comes from both gloves, this time bound for the rat's arms.
Murid continues trying to outwit the minister, "Weren't all creatures created by God?" he gets out, before the wires find his arms. He squeaks in alarm and pulls at his bonds. "Hey! Let go! Right now!" he demands nervously.
Walter smiles. "Precisely. Animals were made to be slaughtered, to provide for man." He flexes his wrists ever so slightly, causing the wire to cut into the rat's flesh. "You should provide me with some entertainment. Care to run?"
Murid squeaks again and cries out as some of the wire breaks the skin not covered by clothing. He steps toward his assailant in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on his arms, to loose the wire slightly. "I'm...I'm not your personal toy..." he grits his teeth, showing some fear now.
Walter smirks and tugs a little more, just to maintain the pressure. "But you are. I could just as easily shred your arms as I did that candle. I don't quite know what's stopping me, but you should consider yourself lucky. I'm in the mood for some fun."
Murid winces as the pain increases again. His breathing becomes slightly disjointed, and he unsuccessfully tries to bite the wire, cutting his gums as he does so. With blood staining his lips, he relents, "...Alright...What do you want me to do...?"
Walter spreads his hands wide and steps backwards, the wire releasing the rodent's arms. "I want you to leave. I find it rather amusing as to how you escape this predicament. I'm here, the Colonel is outside waiting for you, and you only have two ways to run - the front doors, or the roof. I'll give you a twenty-second head start. One, two..."
Murid rubs his bleeding arms as they're released, taking up seven seconds to recover. He spits blood onto the floor, and gives a strange-sounding growl to the Minister before he literally turns tail, moving at speed to the front door, sharp teeth bared.
Stryker opens the large oaken door and raises his tranquilizer pistol just as Murid nears the door. "Wrong way. I'm not giving you the head start, by the way." He fires a shot over Murid's shoulder, then takes closer aim, smirking.
Murid's eyes widen and his mousey ears pin back as the shot flies past. His instinctive reaction is to dive behind one of the pews for cover. The sound of scrabbling is heard as he looks for a means of escape.
Walter walks down the center aisle, not looking to either side but bring his arms down hard to his left and right, sending the wire as a whip down each row of pews. "Time's up. Hope you like rat fillets, Colonel." He continues slowly walking, slicing down each empty row, coming closer to Murid's hiding spot.
Stryker steps quietly to the side, listening alertly for Murid's movements. His pistol comes up and he glances down the side aisle where he can hear Murid's scrabbling. He sights down his arm to aim his pistol, ready to catch the rat if the priest drives him out.
Murid can hear the wire whips getting closer and closer. Surely he doesn't have time to race around each row of pews. He quickly tries to leap and bound over each row, on his way to the exit.
Walter adjusts his angle as he sees Murid scampering. He retracts the wire on his right hand and brings his left arm up, then down hard, trying to catch the rat across the back. "Ah ah ah, since I'm all out of mousetraps, you should stand still so I can finish, my son."
Stryker sidesteps as Walter brings his whip down near the military man. Cursing under his breath, he aims for Murid, fires, misses, and aims once more. "Right, do as he says and stand still, damn you!"
Murid leaps again, but catches the wire whip right across the back. Luckiliy, his leather coat absorbs some of the force, but even that is cut through, leaving a nasty welt that knocks the mouseboy down with a squeal. The strike leaves his eyes watery as he looks up at Stryker with ill-hidden fear.
Walter smirks and reels in his wire, glancing to the Colonel. "Sir, I leave him to you. There are other matters that require my attention, but I'll return as soon as I can."
Stryker raises his tranquilizer and aims it at Murid. Without looking up, he states, "Thank you, Father. I'll see you later, then." He raises his eyebrows and beams at Murid. "We'll get to spend a little more time together, it looks like. Goodnight, Murid." And he unloads two darts, one striking the rat in the upper arm, the other in the neck.
Murid can't answer, save for a loud cry as the darts pierce his skin. The little guy is knocked out in record time, slumping on the floor.
Walter leaves the sanctuary through the rear door, chuckling to himself.
Stryker smirks and gathers Murid up, heading for the rear door with the surprisingly light four-foot rat slung over one shoulder, whistling to himself.
St. James Cathedral
Like so many of the other churches and cathedrals in New York, this one seems to have planted smack dab in the middle of the city's twenty-four hour bustle, like an ancient, stoic sentinel watching over the younger buildings in its vicinity. St. James seems to be no exception. Built from the traditionally simple stone and mortar, this aged structure obviously has quite a few years of weight resting upon its shoulders, but someone is doing a remarkably good job of upkeep. Inside, the cathedral is dark and vast and somber, the arched ceiling disappearing up into the shadows of the rafters, while across the walls fading murals of scenes from the Bible have been painted. The pews are beginning to fall apart here and there, but the flagstone aisles are neatly swept. Throughout the various alcoves and hallways, the comforting glow of candlelight is ubiquitous, the many votive stands always seeming to have at least one of their charges faithfully a'gleam.
[Exits : [T]o the [R]oof, and [Out]side ]
Walter walks softly in and stands silently at the front of the sanctuary, hands folded before him, gloves reflecting the candlelight off of their lustered black surfaces. He eyes the new arrival with a benevolent glance, before scanning the other individuals in the church. When his gaze meets that of the rodent, he clenches his fists slightly.
Murid is stood at the front of the church, arms folded, striking a pose not unlike the Ninth Doctor, as he looks up at the depiction of Jesus. "I wonder if he was a mutant." he says to no-one in particular, before the new figure walks over and meets his gaze. The mouseboy eyes back evenly, his long tail swishing behind him. "...Problem?"
Stryker glances up to find a normal-looking priest...and a positively disgusting rat-boy. He pockets the rosary, standing suddenly with renewed conviction, and sidesteps into the aisle. "Goodness, it's a talking rodent. Father, did the pesticides prove themselves ineffective again?" He smiles widely. "Murid, so good to see you. That /is/ you under all that fur, friend? It's been so long, you must have hit your puberty by now." Thankfully, no other parishioners are present, so he can be a little more free with his speech than normal.
Walter nods to the man in the aisle. "Yes, Colonel, I'm sorry." He grins to the rat and spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture, though his eyes are cold as ice. "Here, my son. I am sorry, but we do discourage rats, mutants, demons, and other such pestilence from maintaining their presence in the sanctuary. Apparently, you fall into all of those categories."
Murid turns with surprise as he hears a voice that's strangely familiar. He recognises Stryker immediately, of course, and scowls, showing off long incisors that have been filed into points. The scowl isn't full, though; there must be at least a little fear. He does not afford Stryker a reply, instead turning to the minister, the scowl remaining. "I'm neither rat, demon or pestilence. I'm a person same as -you-." the latter word is said grudgingly.
Stryker smirks slightly and inclines his head towards Walter. "Father McAllister, I'll be waiting outside, if you'd care to drive him there. I apologize for the intrusion, and I imagine I'll be seeing you shortly." He turns and smiles at Murid. "So good to see you again, friend. You and the preacher play nice, now, y'hear?" He beams and exits, pulling his coat close as he steps out into the rain, the large wooden door slamming behind him.
Walter cracks his knuckles and splays his fingers, holding spread hands out to his sides. "M'lad. You're not a person, you're an unholy monster, an abomination, and a disgrace to all mankind. You defile the Lord's House with your presence, and as such should be punished." He lowers his left arm, bur raises his right, in a fist, in front of him. His arm swings back, then forward. Long strands of barely perceptible wire stretch from between the fingers of the glove, the candlelight reflecting off of them. They wrap around an unfortunate pillar candle. The Father jerks his wrist, and the candle falls in slices to the floor. Another wrist flick, and the wire returns to the glove.
Murid watches Stryker go, still with that scowl, and "If you think you're gonna control me that easily..." before he turns back to the minister. Following the little show, the mouseboy looks surprised, but stands his ground. "I haven't seen anything in the Bible saying that God wasn't my creator. -You're- the one being unreasonable."
Walter scowls now, brow furrowes in irritation bordering on anger. "On the contrary. Man was created in God's image. You're nothing more than a common sewer rat, and a filthy, oversized one at that." He raises both hands and gestures with his arms. Wire comes from both gloves, this time bound for the rat's arms.
Murid continues trying to outwit the minister, "Weren't all creatures created by God?" he gets out, before the wires find his arms. He squeaks in alarm and pulls at his bonds. "Hey! Let go! Right now!" he demands nervously.
Walter smiles. "Precisely. Animals were made to be slaughtered, to provide for man." He flexes his wrists ever so slightly, causing the wire to cut into the rat's flesh. "You should provide me with some entertainment. Care to run?"
Murid squeaks again and cries out as some of the wire breaks the skin not covered by clothing. He steps toward his assailant in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on his arms, to loose the wire slightly. "I'm...I'm not your personal toy..." he grits his teeth, showing some fear now.
Walter smirks and tugs a little more, just to maintain the pressure. "But you are. I could just as easily shred your arms as I did that candle. I don't quite know what's stopping me, but you should consider yourself lucky. I'm in the mood for some fun."
Murid winces as the pain increases again. His breathing becomes slightly disjointed, and he unsuccessfully tries to bite the wire, cutting his gums as he does so. With blood staining his lips, he relents, "...Alright...What do you want me to do...?"
Walter spreads his hands wide and steps backwards, the wire releasing the rodent's arms. "I want you to leave. I find it rather amusing as to how you escape this predicament. I'm here, the Colonel is outside waiting for you, and you only have two ways to run - the front doors, or the roof. I'll give you a twenty-second head start. One, two..."
Murid rubs his bleeding arms as they're released, taking up seven seconds to recover. He spits blood onto the floor, and gives a strange-sounding growl to the Minister before he literally turns tail, moving at speed to the front door, sharp teeth bared.
Stryker opens the large oaken door and raises his tranquilizer pistol just as Murid nears the door. "Wrong way. I'm not giving you the head start, by the way." He fires a shot over Murid's shoulder, then takes closer aim, smirking.
Murid's eyes widen and his mousey ears pin back as the shot flies past. His instinctive reaction is to dive behind one of the pews for cover. The sound of scrabbling is heard as he looks for a means of escape.
Walter walks down the center aisle, not looking to either side but bring his arms down hard to his left and right, sending the wire as a whip down each row of pews. "Time's up. Hope you like rat fillets, Colonel." He continues slowly walking, slicing down each empty row, coming closer to Murid's hiding spot.
Stryker steps quietly to the side, listening alertly for Murid's movements. His pistol comes up and he glances down the side aisle where he can hear Murid's scrabbling. He sights down his arm to aim his pistol, ready to catch the rat if the priest drives him out.
Murid can hear the wire whips getting closer and closer. Surely he doesn't have time to race around each row of pews. He quickly tries to leap and bound over each row, on his way to the exit.
Walter adjusts his angle as he sees Murid scampering. He retracts the wire on his right hand and brings his left arm up, then down hard, trying to catch the rat across the back. "Ah ah ah, since I'm all out of mousetraps, you should stand still so I can finish, my son."
Stryker sidesteps as Walter brings his whip down near the military man. Cursing under his breath, he aims for Murid, fires, misses, and aims once more. "Right, do as he says and stand still, damn you!"
Murid leaps again, but catches the wire whip right across the back. Luckiliy, his leather coat absorbs some of the force, but even that is cut through, leaving a nasty welt that knocks the mouseboy down with a squeal. The strike leaves his eyes watery as he looks up at Stryker with ill-hidden fear.
Walter smirks and reels in his wire, glancing to the Colonel. "Sir, I leave him to you. There are other matters that require my attention, but I'll return as soon as I can."
Stryker raises his tranquilizer and aims it at Murid. Without looking up, he states, "Thank you, Father. I'll see you later, then." He raises his eyebrows and beams at Murid. "We'll get to spend a little more time together, it looks like. Goodnight, Murid." And he unloads two darts, one striking the rat in the upper arm, the other in the neck.
Murid can't answer, save for a loud cry as the darts pierce his skin. The little guy is knocked out in record time, slumping on the floor.
Walter leaves the sanctuary through the rear door, chuckling to himself.
Stryker smirks and gathers Murid up, heading for the rear door with the surprisingly light four-foot rat slung over one shoulder, whistling to himself.