The whole morning in The Crown had been hectic, with the heavy boots of armed men trudging though one office building too the next. Eagerly seeking their quarry, only to find that he was one step ahead of them and on too the next building. This case came to an end after they supposedly cornered him on the roof of the Watercress Hotel, the largest building sitting at the corner of The Crown's square. What ensued was a bloody retelling of nearly every encounter between the Foundations forces and the entity known as Craven for the past eight weeks.
Even if their weapons were not silenced, from this height it would be highly unlikely that someone one the busy street below would even notice. He would tear and rip at their flesh as their weapons discharged, specks of flesh and blood dazzled within the light of brilliant muzzle flashes and one after the other fell before their clip could empty. Though yes, his efforts were met with equal resistance. They would try their toys and new tactics, but as the same before their technology, numbers and attempts could not hold out against his endurance. It did not help their efforts as well that he would take time between their intermittent fights to snack and feast on the gore that remained.
All the time he chased their draining numbers up the stairs and out the roof access door, as he kept them from returning the other way. His cold eyes kept fixated on them as they would square off and fire in their same fashion as before. What started as twelve, ended as five before their time on the roof and soon after that it was three, Huddled together back to back. The watched as Craven quietly walked out from the dark shadows of the roofs confines, a large trail of squirming, switching bodily mass following behind. A writhing, chattering mass of tendrils and claws as its skirted around his body and chased along the floor.
A slow measure of picking out the more experience and their leader alike, Craven yanked the two away from their captain as his shoulder badge spoke so loudly. As Craven advanced slowly and ever closer, the man put his rifle to his chin. Only for the swing of a talon severed enough of his arm to make the attempt mute. His lats ditch effort to spare himself from the indignity of being eaten was a pained leap from the roof, only for his decent to be halted nearly a floor down. A long tendril piercing the flesh of his leg and pulling him back up to meet the monster he had chosen to hunt.
As his body was swung right side up, he was set face to face with a virtual monster. Craven looked on at the struggling soldier, even though he too knew that his attempts were fruitless. The piercing sensation in the mans leg should have given him as much an insight, though it did not stop him from putting up a fight. As he looked on, he shouted and spat his proclamation
"Go ahead.. do it you bastard.. ...Do It!!! Craven looked him over a few times, as if studying a fly that one had caught by the wings.
The captain could see what remained of his squad, still draped across much Craven's face and chest. The engorged arm that held him upright by the shoulder, was painfully digging its claws into his skin.
"Those men had families.. children.."Craven broke him off by speaking against him
"Jessica.. Anthony.. Patricia.. Need I go on?""I even know your name Captain Sampson.. it matters little." The captains eyes wince as he looks back and a grimace run across his lips.
"Why am I still alive?" He ask plainly, which was a good question.
"No reason, I merely felt like playing with my food. The answers to all my questions lye in here..." As he says this, Craven runs a clawed finger over the mans face. Slowly giving him the notion of what was to come, but before he could act on this knowledge Craven grips his neck and wrenches the head from its owner. Barely a sound could even escape from the captured solider before the deed was done and his eyes were stuck staring perpetually into space.
Left cradling the head like a newborn as he sneers slightly at the flailing corpse, already having gorged himself on the foolish tonight. He detaches the dead weight from his hooks and chucks it too the streets below.
The streets below were cool and clear, people walking to and fro as they went about their business. But down comes a spinning mass, careening and flailing as it fell. The distance from which it fell must have been high, because the impact it made in the car waiting to turn at the square was impressive. Sinking its hood and buckling its frame, as it nearly disappeared into a red mist on impact.