Lay Of The Land

[dargan]

Why.... Why do I have to be here right now? I'm not a pawn for you... I'm not just a tool you can use to fight your battles from your high rise apartment building, sleeping in your comfortable bed. You don't get your hands dirty, you don't work yourself to a bloody pulp for what you believe is right... Why should I? All I get is locked up in that room when I go back.. I'll fight your battles for you, but in return I want to be free to do whatever I want. Release me from these chains.

Those words trickled through the Odyssian's mind like a slow running stream. He wasn't usually that articulate, but words seemed to be the only way he could get through to them. Pain resulted in nothing but more isolation. Fighting was useless. Their beliefs, they were theirs, not his. Sure he'd grown accustomed to having it beaten into his skull every day, but why should he believe in anything they've ever told him?

In return for his willing participation in these so called 'missions' he'd get a few hours free time to do as he pleased, as long as he arrived at the right spot on time, and did what he had to do. This would continue to happen, as long as he obeyed orders.

Green eyes narrowed and a snarl pulled at his muzzle. He gritted his teeth and glared through the train window. The car was empty except for a few stragglers at the back, who seemed to be staying well away from Samael. Then again, he didn't blame them much. Why would anyone want to get close to a seven foot monstrosity like him? He was a killer after all, or at least he'd been taught to be. It didn't matter really, to him it was just another chance to watch someone bleed.

He placed a paw on the window, feeling the vibrations from the train, and listening intently to the echoes that the express made as it passed through a tunnel. Souds from all over resonated, whispers, voices, radio music from the streets. He could hear it all. He could smell them, their putrid mixed scents stinging his nostrils. Especially the train itself. So many had been here, had left their scents imbedded in the seats and rubber mats, in the dull metal... It was disgusting. At the same time though, it gave him critical information about what was going on around him. Things he'd been missing.

Lock anyone up in a cage for so long, and they'd be just as violent as him. Feed them drugs and chemicals, shoot them up with who the hell knows what, implant things in them.. Like a fucking lab rat. They'd be just as mentally disturbed as Sam right? Not that he really minded being stronger than just about everyone else. He could pick up a car and throw it if he had to. Crush bones with one hit. Smell a target from over a mile away and track them for ever. All of that was nice and all, but why did they have to do this to him? He'd never asked to be born a freak.

The train came to a stop back at the station, the final stop for the night. He'd been for hours, getting a good layout of the city. He had a good idea already from the maps he'd been shown, but it was better to know landmarks by sight.

Sam got up from his seat, stretching a little, and placing his sunglasses back on. His shoulders hunched up as he slipped through the door and out into the express station, looking around agitatedly. They'd been here looking for him, he could smell it. What? Didn't they trust him to do what he was supposed to do? Probably not. Oh well, if they wanted to spend their time looking for him, that was their problem. He had better things to do.

He pushed the doors open, walking out and down the station stairs and down the street, heading towards the infamous Gates.

[wastelandwheelman]

A figure watched unseen from the rooftops, icy eyes watching the Dresden intently. He stood still, the wind playfully tugging at his suit jacket. Issaic, a Odyssian of the Baker family, was to watch the dangerous Samael, and, if necessary, take "appropriate measures" if the Dresden slipped up.

He did not know much about him, only what he heard from stories and rumors. Personally, he did not judge people off of what others, but the shoe seemed to fit in this instance. Issaic hoped he would not have to intervene this evening...

Issaic sniffed once and continued along the roof, following, keeping his eyes on the street, but just enough to not be seen from below. Chances were that Samael aleady knew he was being followed...

[dargan]

It wasn't like he didn't know, he knew from the start that they were watching him. It was sickening. It wasn't like he didn't come back every time. A low growl left his throat. He stopped at the corner, looking through the meshing of streets and alleyways in all directions. If they wanted to send another brat to follow him then he'd make it worth the effort. His eyes narrowed and he adjusted his sunglasses.

No one could have judged from his actions, what was going through his head as he stepped down off of the sidewalk and into the street. One, he mouthed as someone passed him, two, another person passed. Three, his muscles lurched as he took off, pushing himself forward with powerfully built legs, his mane flushing back in a wave of dark brown and gray, his muzzle curled into a vicious snarl. Everything was a blur around him, sounds, smells passing so fast that he didn't have time to pick them out. He turned, the claws on his foot paws raking across the ground and catching traction again as he pushed past a couple of trash cans in the alleyway, slipping between a few dumpsters and leaping over a six foot chain link fence. He landed on the other side just long enough to take a look up at the skyline and take off again, squeezing through a tight space between two buildings.

[wastelandwheelman]

His target's sudden explosive takeoff surprised Issaic, costing him a few precious seconds. He swore under his breath for hesitating and took off after him. Fortunately, he made an effort to scout out the city in his spare time, looking for any hiding places or shortcuts. It shouldn't be too hard to find him... could it?

He bounded across the rooftops, peering down into the alleys and streets, trying to catch sight of Samael. He growled in frustration, dropping down into an alley. His glowing eyes scanned the alleyway. Somebody was here. His hand ventured to his pocket, and slowly crept into the alley. He sniffed the dank air, stale with the scent of refuse and decay, but somewhere in there, he could smell feline. 'Where are you?' he thought.

[dargan]

Sam ducked down as far as he could, digging his claws into the brick and looking back over his shoulder, nostrils flaring and catching the scent of canine. His lips pulled back and a sickened grimace tugged open his muzzle, his tongue arched in his mouth and he pulled the scents in, over the glands in the roof of his mouth. Most of it was garbage, rotting fruit, meat, rain soaked paper and junk to far gone to distinguish, but the mixed smells of wolf, hyena, and drugs stuck out over them. His ears twitched and listened hard. Footsteps, the babbling of others out on the street, a heartbeat, pounding blood not his own, the skittering of a rat weaving its way through the alleyway and sniffing for food.

The other Odyssian was about fifteen feet away, not yet within view of the passage between buildings. He smiled, growling loudly and thrusting himself upwards, half climbing, half leaping his way up the open space and out onto the roof, landing with silent paws on the rooftop, taking off again.

He was toying with him, of coarse. Why else would he have alerted him of his hiding space?

[wastelandwheelman]

[ OOC All over the city, aren't they? ]

Issaic heard the scraping of nails on the brick walls ahead. Less than a second passed before he was at the alcove, catching a glimpse of his quarry's tail disappearing onto the roof. He let out a frustrated growl, bounding up the wall after him.
It was times like this he was glad he was a wolf/hyena hybrid, otherwise he might have given up a long time ago, wore out from the chase. Eventually, he would catch up to Samael.

To be honest, he wondered why Samael was running from him. His motives were starting to bother Issaic. What were his intentions? Would he kill him if he caught up to him, then say that some thug on the street got the drop on him? Unlikely, but not out of the question...

Issaic had an idea. It seemed like a bad one at first glance, but what the hell? It might work. He glanced off to the side, seeing the elevated rail speeding along side. He quickly changed course and used his momentum to launch himself across onto the train. A knowing smirk creeped up his muzzle. Where does one go to cut loose? He knew...

[dargan]

Sam came to a stop, skidding across a rooftop and ducking in behind a coolant system motor housing and pressing his back against it, listening for chasing footsteps. They only lasted a few seconds before they disappeared along the sound of a passing train.

He waited for a few seconds, listening intently and sniffing the air, an un-amused expression washing over his face. He wasn't being chased anymore, had they given up so easily? What a shame... He peaked out from behind the coolant housing and narrowed his eyes, pulling off his sunglasses. "Well damn..." He muttered, tucking them away in his trench pocket. "I guess the game's over then...Just when it was gettin' good..."

He turned around and walked to the edge of the building, leaping over the gap and landing on another, walking along the edge and back to the alley, jumping down and landing quietly on the other side of the chain link fence. With a sigh he turned the street corner and back out onto the sidewalk, heading again in the direction of the gates, and the bar where he could have a nice drink. His eyes traveled to a flashing banner, the time in bold numbers at the lower left corner. He had plenty of time to kill before he had to be at the assigned location.

[wastelandwheelman]

"Odd weather for this time of year, don't you think?" a voice said next to him. An eerily familiar scent hit Samael's nose: that of his pursuer. He got ahead of him? Issaic pulled back a sleeve, checking the time and comparing it to the banner's.

Issaic walked along side the Dresden casually. No need to be rash, especially since there were so many furres about. Phase one was complete, and now came the moment of truth.
"I assure you, sir, there is no need to run." He adjusted his dark shades, a standard issue in lieu of the contact lenses. "You put up quite the chase."

[dargan]

Sam's ear twitched. Wonderful timing, again.. Why was it that they did this again? Keeping track of him seemed like such a hassle to have to put up with. "Please.. Don't give me that bullshit. I was toying with you. If I wanted to run from you, you'd never find me." He hissed in a low tone, glancing sideways at the canine. "Why were you following me in the first place? Orders?" He asked, continuing to walk towards the bar.

It was funny though, as much as they had to put up with, they always managed to waste their time sending new people to spy on him. Most ended up back at the base either dead or badly wounded and scared shitless. Samael had one hell of a reputation, even among his own kind. That was probably why they kept tabs on him every time they let him out, but still, he didn't like it any, always having someone on his tail. Pathetic maggots who couldn't show that they had a mind of their own.

Sam stopped and turned to the canine, staring at him for a long moment. "Why don't you go now, save yourself a lot of pain."

[wastelandwheelman]

Issaic stopped, seeming to think about it. An icy eye peered out from behind the dark shades. A smile formed on his muzzle. A paw slid into his jacket and produced a flask. "You know, I think you and I are a lot alike," he takes a drink from the flask.

" You believe in breaking the mold that we are centralized around. The Council does'nt trust you, so you resent them for it. Am I right?" He restrained a cough, and offered the flask to Samael.

[OOC sorry for the short reply. a bit tired now...]