Snippet #2815384

A man in a black leather coat stood at the top of an empty building, observing rescue and cleanup crews flit to and fro amidst the rubble below. A hood was pulled up over his head, casting his face partially in shadow, though the edge was pulled back slightly by a thin, jagged horn curving up from his forehead.

"Father Victor," started another, shorter man, approaching from door to roof access. The man he refered to inclined his head only slightly at the sound of his voice, not bothering to respond. The last of us just arrived with the most recent bus of volunteers. What are your orders?"

"Hmmmmmm?" Father Victor almost seemed to purr in response. "You're volunteers aren't you? Go volunteer. Do good works, and all that."

"....Father?"

"And if you happen to hear anything interesting, let me know, would you?"

Understanding dawned in the man's eyes. "Yes sir." He took a step back, but hesitated before turning to leave. "There is one other thing."

"Hm?"

"We found a survivor from Deacon Francis's parish," the man said tentatively. "Collapsed in an alley, behind the destroyed paper company SINS uses."

Victor chuckled quietly. "Shot them and left them for dead, huh? Or caught in the rubble?"

"...No."

"No?"

"No," the man repeated. "He's comatose, but uninjured. From what we can tell, it looks- it looks like he just... fell asleep."

Victor turned toward the man for the first time, his eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment as his eyes searched the man's face for answers, thoughts racing through his mind... and then realization came, and his eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. A chuckle slipped past his lips, then a laugh. He slapped the man on the shoulder, walking past him toward the stairwell.

"That is interesting," he said, pulling back his hood to run his fingers through short, dark hair. "What a small world."