Post by Deleted on Aug 24, 2010 19:17:13 GMT -5
In the end he had decided to vacate the room via the window once more. Coming to the conclusion that it was far better to make his way out in the open, after all from his high vantage point he had spied the walls and plotted his path towards them. Taking a route through the inside of the fortress did not offer him such a luxury as easily recognisable landmarks and a relatively simple to navigate route. No, it would not have done to have gotten lost in the maze like corridors of the place. For just as the prison had been constructed in a highly confusing fashion, so too did he imagine the rest of the place mirrored it. That would be just like these warriors, they knew full well the advantage being on one’s own home terrain offered and they would be sure to exploit such.
Even as he continued to scale his way from window to window, handhold to handhold. Davis noted that below him the night was still chaos. In the distance he had seen Angels moving to and throe, roving patrols and more. Evidently the prisoners held the prison fast. He doubted they would hold it for much longer however. Their position was hopeless and he knew that for the most part they would know this. The surviving rioters being composed of a hardcore of those who had come down on the side of death in battle as opposed to the slow and ignoble death of starvation and those who were far too maddened by torture, Outsider venom and Angelic poisons to care anymore. Their deaths were the price of his freedom and Davis had long since decided it was a price he would gladly have them pay.
He was after all, an entirely unique creature in addition to being one of the greatest military minds ever spawned by the artifice of man. It seemed only fitting that lesser creatures died so very nobly so that he might live to fight another day. The fact that revenging himself upon the Angels in fact also meant avenging their deaths in the same act merely served to give him a spurious sense of purpose and perhaps legitimacy which he would be sure to exploit whenever given the chance. Hand over hand he went pressing himself against the wall when he heard movement either above or below. Quite conscious of the fact that any moment could bring an arrow to the back or a blade to the stomach from one of the many windows he passed.
Architecturally speaking, the fortress was well crafted. Open to the air though, which made a certain amount of sense in a world where one’s soldiers could fly. However in this world, in a world of jet fighters, strategic bombers and helicopter gunships. The Angels would have found this bastion woefully insufficient for their needs. Indeed, Davis imagined that the massed firepower of a fully equipped infantry battalion, much less his own Black Omega tactical unit would have turned this place over and left none alive. For such was the advantage of modern weaponry, even over creatures as powerful as the Angels appeared to be. Even the windows he noted, reflected this, designed as they were by alien minds. Wide enough they were so that they could allow for easy exit for a flying warrior, but slanted enough to make entry more difficult for the same. As such it was quite a curious thing to come across a window that was actually barred to him.
Grasping the metal of the bars, Davis eased himself into the lee of the window and blinked slowly. Giving his enhanced sight a moment to adjust from starlight to the flickering torchlight of the room beyond the bars. Even as his sight changed from the stark black and white tones of his night vision to the sharp contrast of colour and detail his normal mode of vision provided. Davis allowed himself one of those savage displays of teeth he called a smile. For within the room were vast racks of weapons and armour. An arsenal. Sensing a chance for further learning and some meaningful thievery, Davis set himself to the task, hunching himself further into the crevice so that shoulders unburdened by wings in such a closed space, pressed into the manifold of the bars as he began to exert his terrible strength. The walls, his true goal, were just beyond, but Davis felt a little stop over would be more than worth it.
How right he was proven, in the moments after the bars first buckled and then slowly popped from their mountings as Davis moved his hands to grasp the metal fast and prevent it from falling. Having pushed slowly enough not to just throw the thing across the room and alert anyone who might be outside or near as to his presence. Even as he set down the broken grate Davis cast his gaze across the room. Not knowing that the Angels did not use swords, Davis did not question why his own massive blade, rather than being given pride of place as some great trophy, sat propped up in a corner. Sticking out not only due to its oversized proportions but also because it was the only sword in a sea of spears and other more exotic weapons.
Sweeping the thing back up, Davis buckled the straps of the sheaf across his chest so that it rested across his back where it belonged once more before turning his gaze to the rest of the armoury. What drew his eyes next was the not the rows of Angelic armour or weaponry, but rather the pile of human weapons, similarly cast down. Even has he approached, Davis noted a wealth of firearms, knives and other things. Some damaged, others still carrying the scent of blood. No doubt taken from the dead. Some even bore fresh tool marks or lay in pieces. No doubt the inquisitive warriors had attempted to understand their workings and the like. An Angel armed with a machine gun would be a powerful force indeed. Rooting through the pile. Davis dismissed most of it. Cheap pieces of crap barely worthy of the title ‘gun’. There were of course the odd pieces of gold as it were.
A fully loaded uzi was set aside as he emitted a hiss of pleasure. His hand closing over the stylised Black Omega buckle of his own combat webbing packed just as it had been when he had allowed himself to be taken. Which was quite handy really considering its contents would further the mechanism of his escape plan. Quickly Davis checked over his webbing to ensure that he was indeed correct in his initial inventory of equipment before belting it back around his waist, slipping the uzi into the back of his belt. It was a throwaway weapon, something to spray a lot of bullets into an area full of bodies which suited him just fine currently. Having retrieved all his gear but his boots, leaving him barefooted and mournfully so. Davis had after all, quite liked those boots and had owned them for quite some time, the former Black Omega commander padded back towards the window, stopping for a moment when something else, one last prize caught his eye.
An odd glint, something familiar he had seen before but the once. Reaching down to grasp the hilt of a jagged blade, Davis cocked his head for a moment, images coming back to him as he relieved moments from his past. A shimmering dome of light, another great blade wedged into the earth as two leaders fought, duelled even. That blade of odd metal, how it had parted the flesh of the old monster, Davis remembered now, exactly where he had seen such a glint before. It even felt the same, even through the senses of his superhuman self; Davis had perceived the promise of death the odd metal held. The knife was crude, savage some would say. But that suited him just fine. Even as he slipped it through his belt, he knew to hide it, to secret it away until he truly needed it. If ever such a day were to come.
Coming to the window once more. Davis turned back to look upon the armoury of the Angels as he reached down and opened one of the pouches, drawing forth what looked like a black hockey puck before depressing a small lump set into the centre of the disc and sliding it across the floor of the vast chamber towards the door before quickly exiting the way he had entered. Moments later the compact incendiary device, previously used for destroying the evidence of the activities of his Black Omega and Delta White soldiers, began first to smoke, the to sputter before a concentrated and intense fireball engulfed a small portion of the room. Setting a blaze that would quickly be noted and would spread through the wooden racks of the arming chambers and the like if left unattended.
All of which suited Davis fine as he edged along towards his goal. Either the Angels would ignore the blaze and their weapons would burn or they would send enough manpower into that area to put the fire down quickly and save their armoury, thusly allowing him to further his escape. The walls were high and for the most part, well attended. The Angels being well drilled enough not to leave the front door unlocked while they cleaned house as it were. But a fire was not something that could easily be ignored and thusly soon a fresh wave of horns and cries drew attention exactly where he wanted it.
Away from himself.
For all he had done, all the artful chaos he had caused in the furtherance of his escape. It had to be said that the final portion of his run was neither particularly elaborate or graceful. But given that it went unseen and thusly would not be making it into the history books as it were, Davis felt he could excuse himself. Given that the last phase of his escape ended when he promptly threw himself over the wall to land in a heap upon the still warm sand outside the walls. The fall costing him a dislocated shoulder, numerous bruises, what felt like some cracked ribs and a chunk of flesh from his right cheek where his teeth had snapped shut with the jarring impact with the ground.
None of that mattered now though, he would heal and in time he would return here to do battle on a more open footing. With that in mind, Davis hobbled off into the night and made good upon his distraction while he could.
Soon he would be running.
(OOC: Exit)
Even as he continued to scale his way from window to window, handhold to handhold. Davis noted that below him the night was still chaos. In the distance he had seen Angels moving to and throe, roving patrols and more. Evidently the prisoners held the prison fast. He doubted they would hold it for much longer however. Their position was hopeless and he knew that for the most part they would know this. The surviving rioters being composed of a hardcore of those who had come down on the side of death in battle as opposed to the slow and ignoble death of starvation and those who were far too maddened by torture, Outsider venom and Angelic poisons to care anymore. Their deaths were the price of his freedom and Davis had long since decided it was a price he would gladly have them pay.
He was after all, an entirely unique creature in addition to being one of the greatest military minds ever spawned by the artifice of man. It seemed only fitting that lesser creatures died so very nobly so that he might live to fight another day. The fact that revenging himself upon the Angels in fact also meant avenging their deaths in the same act merely served to give him a spurious sense of purpose and perhaps legitimacy which he would be sure to exploit whenever given the chance. Hand over hand he went pressing himself against the wall when he heard movement either above or below. Quite conscious of the fact that any moment could bring an arrow to the back or a blade to the stomach from one of the many windows he passed.
Architecturally speaking, the fortress was well crafted. Open to the air though, which made a certain amount of sense in a world where one’s soldiers could fly. However in this world, in a world of jet fighters, strategic bombers and helicopter gunships. The Angels would have found this bastion woefully insufficient for their needs. Indeed, Davis imagined that the massed firepower of a fully equipped infantry battalion, much less his own Black Omega tactical unit would have turned this place over and left none alive. For such was the advantage of modern weaponry, even over creatures as powerful as the Angels appeared to be. Even the windows he noted, reflected this, designed as they were by alien minds. Wide enough they were so that they could allow for easy exit for a flying warrior, but slanted enough to make entry more difficult for the same. As such it was quite a curious thing to come across a window that was actually barred to him.
Grasping the metal of the bars, Davis eased himself into the lee of the window and blinked slowly. Giving his enhanced sight a moment to adjust from starlight to the flickering torchlight of the room beyond the bars. Even as his sight changed from the stark black and white tones of his night vision to the sharp contrast of colour and detail his normal mode of vision provided. Davis allowed himself one of those savage displays of teeth he called a smile. For within the room were vast racks of weapons and armour. An arsenal. Sensing a chance for further learning and some meaningful thievery, Davis set himself to the task, hunching himself further into the crevice so that shoulders unburdened by wings in such a closed space, pressed into the manifold of the bars as he began to exert his terrible strength. The walls, his true goal, were just beyond, but Davis felt a little stop over would be more than worth it.
How right he was proven, in the moments after the bars first buckled and then slowly popped from their mountings as Davis moved his hands to grasp the metal fast and prevent it from falling. Having pushed slowly enough not to just throw the thing across the room and alert anyone who might be outside or near as to his presence. Even as he set down the broken grate Davis cast his gaze across the room. Not knowing that the Angels did not use swords, Davis did not question why his own massive blade, rather than being given pride of place as some great trophy, sat propped up in a corner. Sticking out not only due to its oversized proportions but also because it was the only sword in a sea of spears and other more exotic weapons.
Sweeping the thing back up, Davis buckled the straps of the sheaf across his chest so that it rested across his back where it belonged once more before turning his gaze to the rest of the armoury. What drew his eyes next was the not the rows of Angelic armour or weaponry, but rather the pile of human weapons, similarly cast down. Even has he approached, Davis noted a wealth of firearms, knives and other things. Some damaged, others still carrying the scent of blood. No doubt taken from the dead. Some even bore fresh tool marks or lay in pieces. No doubt the inquisitive warriors had attempted to understand their workings and the like. An Angel armed with a machine gun would be a powerful force indeed. Rooting through the pile. Davis dismissed most of it. Cheap pieces of crap barely worthy of the title ‘gun’. There were of course the odd pieces of gold as it were.
A fully loaded uzi was set aside as he emitted a hiss of pleasure. His hand closing over the stylised Black Omega buckle of his own combat webbing packed just as it had been when he had allowed himself to be taken. Which was quite handy really considering its contents would further the mechanism of his escape plan. Quickly Davis checked over his webbing to ensure that he was indeed correct in his initial inventory of equipment before belting it back around his waist, slipping the uzi into the back of his belt. It was a throwaway weapon, something to spray a lot of bullets into an area full of bodies which suited him just fine currently. Having retrieved all his gear but his boots, leaving him barefooted and mournfully so. Davis had after all, quite liked those boots and had owned them for quite some time, the former Black Omega commander padded back towards the window, stopping for a moment when something else, one last prize caught his eye.
An odd glint, something familiar he had seen before but the once. Reaching down to grasp the hilt of a jagged blade, Davis cocked his head for a moment, images coming back to him as he relieved moments from his past. A shimmering dome of light, another great blade wedged into the earth as two leaders fought, duelled even. That blade of odd metal, how it had parted the flesh of the old monster, Davis remembered now, exactly where he had seen such a glint before. It even felt the same, even through the senses of his superhuman self; Davis had perceived the promise of death the odd metal held. The knife was crude, savage some would say. But that suited him just fine. Even as he slipped it through his belt, he knew to hide it, to secret it away until he truly needed it. If ever such a day were to come.
Coming to the window once more. Davis turned back to look upon the armoury of the Angels as he reached down and opened one of the pouches, drawing forth what looked like a black hockey puck before depressing a small lump set into the centre of the disc and sliding it across the floor of the vast chamber towards the door before quickly exiting the way he had entered. Moments later the compact incendiary device, previously used for destroying the evidence of the activities of his Black Omega and Delta White soldiers, began first to smoke, the to sputter before a concentrated and intense fireball engulfed a small portion of the room. Setting a blaze that would quickly be noted and would spread through the wooden racks of the arming chambers and the like if left unattended.
All of which suited Davis fine as he edged along towards his goal. Either the Angels would ignore the blaze and their weapons would burn or they would send enough manpower into that area to put the fire down quickly and save their armoury, thusly allowing him to further his escape. The walls were high and for the most part, well attended. The Angels being well drilled enough not to leave the front door unlocked while they cleaned house as it were. But a fire was not something that could easily be ignored and thusly soon a fresh wave of horns and cries drew attention exactly where he wanted it.
Away from himself.
For all he had done, all the artful chaos he had caused in the furtherance of his escape. It had to be said that the final portion of his run was neither particularly elaborate or graceful. But given that it went unseen and thusly would not be making it into the history books as it were, Davis felt he could excuse himself. Given that the last phase of his escape ended when he promptly threw himself over the wall to land in a heap upon the still warm sand outside the walls. The fall costing him a dislocated shoulder, numerous bruises, what felt like some cracked ribs and a chunk of flesh from his right cheek where his teeth had snapped shut with the jarring impact with the ground.
None of that mattered now though, he would heal and in time he would return here to do battle on a more open footing. With that in mind, Davis hobbled off into the night and made good upon his distraction while he could.
Soon he would be running.
(OOC: Exit)