multiversallogs | don't look for me. I'm still here.

Who: Youko and Rodolphus
What: I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS EVEN GOING ON but seriously they're on Hellsing business
Where: the Spatters, on the border with Howl Barrow
When: backdated to some time last week
Notes: hi
Warnings: probable eldritch horrors

The anonymous transmissions have stirred up enough trouble for the Militia that the fringe areas of Baedal, particular the Spatters, are going with even less protection than usual. It's a prime time for independent troublemakers to step up their activities, and Hellsing's response is to increase their drive through patrols. With much of their regular staff busy, even less competent field operatives like Rodolphus are seeing their share of action; and it's no coincidence he's been paired with Youko, despite their lack of familiarity with each other. Rodolphus accepted the pairing and orders without complaint. Work is one of two things he shows interest in, and he appreciates quiet people just as much as he appreciates lively ones. It's possible he doesn't care if he's injured or killed. He hasn't bothered to think about it.

The location they've been directed to is disturbingly near the fog, but neither he nor Youko are the type to show any discomfort. Their target is supposed to be holed up somewhere in the vicinity of these mostly abandoned buildings, which lie opposite a semi-abandoned amusement park. If Rodolphus cared, he might wonder about the geography of Baedal, whether years ago, the fog was not so dangerously close, or whether someone was just demented and rich enough to build it here. But he doesn't. He simply follows Youko, wand in gloved hand, alert in a mindless fashion. The briefing had indicated that some kind of magic user was creating or altering misshapen creatures, some of which were escaping the Spatters to the general populace.

Somewhere in the nearest building, it sounds like two cats are mewing — not in a way which suggests they're fighting or mating, but as if they are having an unpleasant conversation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The possibility of being injured or killed is one Youko is aware of, and it is less that she doesn't care but that she is used to it as a part of her life's work - and she will do her best to prevent it happening, to either her or her assigned partner for this mission, but monsters suck and she has enough scars to show she isn't perfect at avoiding harm. That only serves to make her more cautious in her approach to the distinctly eerie abandoned buildings, the fog close enough to be an oppressive presence filling the edge of her vision with grey. The things that lurk in the fog are not what they're here to hunt down, however - she's been paired with Rodolphus since they're on the trail of a magic user, someone misusing their powers to twist creatures, either natural or supernatural to begin with. And whilst Youko is not afraid to face someone wielding magic with only her sword and what techniques she has to deal with those mages of her own world, it's... almost nice to have someone who is more familiar with the intricate workings of magic itself at her back.

And someone appreciably quiet, too. They've barely spoken beyond necessities so far, and she can't say she minds that. The cats they can hear are probably talking more.

While she doubts that any cats would stay around being conversational if one of the altered creatures were close, she heads in their direction anyway - it's the only sound noticeable immediately, and if there are any creatures around, they may be drawn to the obvious prey, and then she and Rodolphus can hopefully track them back to their creator's lair. (There's always a lair.)

Derelict as it is, the battered lobby betrays signs of constant passage, albeit perhaps not wholly of the bipedal kind. There are wider, sweeping marks in the dust and debris, like the dragging of a tail. Graffiti marks the walls in a haphazard, defiant fashion, more there for show than any true claiming of territory.

But somebody does claim this place as their own: Rodolphus makes a low monosyllable of warning, its meaning slightly obscure but probably identifiable as 'stop'. He gestures with the wand, and immediately a strange mark over the stairwell, the size of a dinner plate, glows. Somewhere in the floors above them, the cat wailing dies off for about two seconds, then renews with the same lack of intensity as before.

He gestures again and the mark fades slowly.

"Disarmed," is all he says of it.

don't look for me. I'm still here.

let's see if I can manage this one tag a day thing then /slams into gently

no subject