Miles Riverbend
Miles released a small huff of approval as his sword dug satisfyingly deep into the therian’s chest. Not enough to be an instant kill, but the therian had completely lost function of his right arm in the process. Sacrificing it was a desperate ploy to alter the trajectory of his blade, and a well calculated one given the limb was already damaged, but not for much longer. The two of them stood still in the drenching rain for a moment, breaths steaming. Staring down at his opponent, Miles pulled his blade back and prepared for the finishing blow, but therian intercepted and took hold of it. Crimson liquid welled between the cutting edge and where his fingers had taken their grip, but Miles could not retrieve his sword. Screw the scientist’s orders to take in therians alive, he was going to do this the quick and efficient way. The right way. Miles reached down to his belt to purposefully withdraw his combat knife.
Abruptly, boot steps splashed in the mud behind him. Miles kept his attention on the therian, but realized one of Jaeger Guard had returned from the forests. Something heavier splurged against the dirt, followed by the soft groan of a woman.
“Where’s the other one of you?” Miles asked.
The Jaeger Guard stood to attention, like a hound presenting its prize. In front of him lay April, down on her knees and severely injured. The most telling factors were the giant bruise coating her left cheek and a miniscule bullet wound in her left thigh. A second hole bore into her waist. Trickles of blood ran from her wounds only to be diluted then washed away by persistent drizzle. Though mostly covered by a slick film of hair, April’s face was a mask of barely contained agony and shame.
“We caught this one sir! She killed Sanchez before I could subdue her,” the man reported.
“A fighter, eh? Well that’s not too surprising, you’re average therian is far better equipped than your average huma-”
“She’s human, sir,” the Jaeger Guard interjected. “Ex-military.”
The correction managed to turn Miles’ gaze ever so slightly as he allowed the surprise to show on his features. Humans travelling with therians were essentially unheard of in Altheim. The social backlash alone of assisting the aliens was often enough to dissuade even the kindest of Samaritans. Why then was a former military soldier associating themselves with this therian?
“Proof?” Miles queried, raising an eyebrow as he turned around briefly, even as his sword was held in the grasps of the therian.
The Jaeger Guard held up a crossbow before chucking it to Miles. Snatching it from the air with his free arm, Miles turned back to the therian as he switched between inspecting the weapon and watching Touya. The crossbow was of a standard issue army design, even despite a few personal modifications. An army seal was the missing component, but Miles could see evidence in the metal work that the insignia had been scratched off recently.
“A sympathizer,” he frowned as he tossed the crossbow away casually. The question now was how many of these spies currently resided within their own ranks? How far up the ranks had they infiltrated the chain of command? “Take her to Glendale prison.”
At that point the knife came forwards, a flash of steel aiming for the therian’s jugular.
Dean ‘Havoc’ Reginald
It was Damea alright. Recognizing the man from his clothes, Reginald stepped into the jail cell and walked forwards to the lethargic mercenary wearing a frown. His disheveled appearance conjured a multitude of questions, but Reginald reminded himself to focus on the immediate dangers. Unfortunately he did not possess his med pack with him, having hastily raced down to the guard precinct from work.
“Do you have a medkit available, and water?” he asked the key keeper quickly before crouching besides Damea. The man nodded and hollered to an adjudicate to go fetch the requested materials.
"Reginald…Touya... April... they fought. Then there was... an army, and they... killed the Therians," Damea smiled stupidly, as if he had been blessed by an angel. The words, a cracked shadow of his former enthusiasm was the most concerning aspect of Damea’s delirious condition.
"April... left us... betrayed us.... Touya's captured..."
Reginald was barely listening to his deranged ramblings but the last sentence gave cause to a slight show of astonishment. His hands hovered in suspense above Damea before commencing their routine check-ups.
“You need to rest first,” Reginald stated.
"Have to leave... have to help him..." Damea mumbled, trying weakly to rise. Trembling hands struggled to support his build, but his body was too exhausted for any standard form of movement. Damea looked malnourished, dehydrated and debilitated. The best solution then was to sleep. Reginald caught the sell sword as he fell back before re-positioning him carefully.
“Rest first, you can tell me everything later.”