[Serra Britt]

"He said..." Feenai began, trying to remember the exact words Dante had thought, "that Michael was being pursued by two people. He didn't give any other details and he's too far away for me to try to view his memory." Not even sure that I could anyways... "If we're going to the armory to help Dante, I'll lead the way. I'm already looking at Corinth's map on the Network."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Shealtiel nods, pointing to the door with his cane. "Go."

These two new antagonists must be something out of the ordinary, if Michael and Dante together couldn't handle them. As they shuffle out of the tavern, Shealtiel readies himself to call upon death magicks, if need be. He hasn't detected any spiritual surges, so it's likely whatever they are will perish easily to the claws of Sheol.

[Salone]

Lev tore out of the tavern, following after Rue before running down the street alone. He had an inkling of what he was looking for. As he ran, he unslung the Mosin-Nagant from his back. He covered a block as he loaded it, cycling large brass shells in to the chamber.

He stopped when he saw...something. Someone. Two of them. They looked engaged, and he had an idea as to who they might be after. Guessing that this was who he was supposed to counter, he raised his rifle. He adjusted his aim to compensate for the unadjusted sights, not having the time to set them. It only took him a moment to zero in. He still had a clear view on one of them, a feminine looking one. She seemed to shudder or seize violently for a moment. Seeing his chance, Lev pulled the trigger.

Yes...

A flash. He felt the trigger release. The bolt slide forward, gathering speed. The pin striking the shell, igniting the corrosive powder in the casing. A crack of thunder roared across the street as fire spewed forth briefly from his gun, recoil fighting hard to upset his aim as the bullet left the barrel. It tore through air, through flesh. He felt the hot lead taste flesh, taste bone as it shredded through the frail body. It tumbled, destroying everything it came in contact with. In his mind he felt as it exited, leaving a much larger hole than it made coming in. Blood, bone, and part of a lung followed in its wake. He watched the body crumple, never taking his eyes away from his position down below. His hand worked quickly, pulling back the bolt to eject the spent round. It flew through the air, the large casing hitting the ground only after he had slammed the bolt back home, securing a fresh round. No matter what kind of human his target might have been, he knew it wouldn't get far without the left half of her chest...if she was going anywhere at all. Whatever had happened to her, it had bought him the time he needed. After a moment, he slung his rifle back over his shoulder. The people that weren't running in terror were staring at him, and he was not intent on leaving the streets and inspecting his victim. He quickly made for the side of the building she had been dropped on, climbing up the side slowly.

[Serra Britt]

Feenai led Shealtiel and Jeanne northward through the back streets, trying not to draw too much attention to them. At first she moved slowly, but Shealtiel seemed fine with any pace so she just moved as fast as she could with the map sitting in her brain.

About two thirds of the way there, Feenai's eyes met a gruesome sight. The Tsavo gunman was...EATING someone. Her eyes could hardly take in the sight, and she turned away quickly hoping she would not lose her meal. The intense pain she usually felt from him had been replaced with something far more feral, and dangerous feeling.

[Funkduder]

Michael tried to sit up as he laid in the alleyway. The clusters of bruises on him made it obvious that h was i a recent fight, although the fact of the matter was that all of the bruises came from inanimate objects. That didn't mean that he wasn't in a fight, but just that the fighters never physically touched him.
After he left Dante to get help from the armory, he went eastward attempting to double back towards the tavern, and after a larger loop of traveling, that's exactly what he was allowed to do.
Unfortunately, by the time he reached the tavern, his mother and father had long figured out a strategy to deal with his psychic block. Boxes, trash bins, pipes, and anything else that was solid enough was tossed at Michael by telekinetic force. Although he had his shield of psychic force as well, whenever he used it, he was immediately nailed with a headache-evoking attack at his mentality.
Now he was getting tired, too tired as he finally slipped and fell into the alleyway that he now laid in. His parents were less than a minute away.
"Half a minute away. 20 seconds away..." As his parents finally jumped down to converse with him before taking him away like the scum they were he noticed something interesting...something funny, almost. His mother had a hole in her heart and was using psychic power to replace the force that her heart used to make.
"Congratulations. You are officially a monster," Michael said. Too weak to uphold his psychic block any longer he was tossed onto a wall. Michael laughed as he choked on some blood from inside his bloody lips. Grinning he looked up, realizing that he was not alone to face his foe anymore. Whether he decided to help or was ordered to, he did not know, but after seeing his face peaking out from the rooftop, he knew that the bolt came from Lev, The Guman of Tsavo.
He shielded his mind to hide that fact from his captors. Even if he could not protect his body, he knew that the greatest asset of a psychic was his mind.

[Salone]

Lev peered at his quarry with hunger from the top of the roof. The smell of blood was assaulting his nose. He had taken a bite, and he hungered for more. Raising his rifle, he shot again. He fired a third time. A fourth. He slammed the bolt back and forth to his gun, ejecting the fifth and final shell in a matter of moments. His shoulder ached from the rapid and very intense recoil. But the pain was distant in his mind, and his mind was a very dangerous place to be at the moment.

FEED!

Lev leaped in to the air from the rooftop. Hands splayed out in front of him, he soared through the air as much as he plummeted, gaining momentum. The weight of both him and all his supplies hit the woman, hard. The air was knocked out of him. He was winded, disoriented, distracted.

With a feral roar, he grabbed the prone woman's head. He forced his fingers in to her mouth, pulling it open. He pulled harder, beginning to tear her lips. Objects beat against his body. Assaulted him, pierced him. It only drove him on. He began tugging sharply and quickly, wrenching her lower jaw back and forth. With a sickening crack he ripped it from the rest of her skull. Jerking one last time, he pulled the rest of her skin away, removing the lower half of her mouth entirely from her body. He went for the rest of her, his now bloody and blood drenched body lunging downward as his teeth sank in to what was left of her mouth, ripping more flesh and sinew out. His mind was gone now. Only what was inside him held control for the moment. And while it held control, it fed.

[Funkduder]

Had Michael not known the person that his mother was, he would've later said that it was the most gruesome thing that he had seen. Just from the sight of it, his father released his grasp of him and slump towards the wall, too shocked to move.
"Dad, may I introduce you to the Lev of Tsavo, or should I say the Lion of Tsavo, now." Michael stood up and pulled out his laser. He was no longer a threat to him but with all of the toturous training he put him through, Michael had no doubt that this was justified. He shot him between the eyes and ended his journey. "Goodbye."
Just then he heard more footsteps coming towards the alleyway. Men were closing in and there were about a dozen of them. "If I stay, I will be arrested. If I fight, I will die, but if I run, I'll lose their trust as well..."
"Stand down, gentlemen. My friend and I are just about finished with these two," he called out to them. Hopefully, if Lev doesn't attack, he would have a chance to explain things.

[Salone]

Lev continued to feed on the woman, using his teeth to rip out more of her meat. Blood flowed freely across his face, making him a crimson mess. He bulled at the stringy bits of her trachea, warm blood gushing through his teeth. He was lost entirely, consuming as much as he could and as fast as he could do it. He ate a fair amount of the woman before looking up, eyeing the dozen or so armed men standing before him. He stayed at a low crouch, snarling as he prepared to leap. They were too far away. Too many guns. But that wouldn't stop him from devouring them if they attempted anything.

Slumber...

Lev blinked. It took him a moment to realize that he was staring down an assortment of armed personnel, all looking a bit horrified. The distance between them was a bit far, but even from here he could tell they each had the smell of fear. As he breathed deep, he noticed the choking smell of blood pressed against his face. He brought a finger to his lips and brought it away wet with blood. Looking down his front, he realized he was covered in it. Near his feet lay what remained of a body. He had done it again. There was no question. Realizing that he had been caught in the act, he turned back to look at the soldiers staring both he and Michael down.

"I make same happen, if you pull triggers. I devour you."

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Following Feenai, and checking his MID periodically to check that they were heading the right direction, Shealtiel eventually finds himself at the end of yet another far too crowded street, finding Michael, Lev, the woman whose name he still had not learned and two hooded assailants, though... one was in the process of being consumed by Lev. There is definitely a presence within the man, manifesting itself now. The Kenyan likely isn't even cognizant right now.

Ignoring him, the Servant of Sheol turns his attention to the other psychic trying desperately to stop Lev. Judging by the fact that the woman is still stubbornly clinging to the edge of life, despite the utter ruin of her body, this man will be rather difficult to dispatch by conventional means.

Quite fed up by the way the past few days have been going, Shealtiel draws Sheol's black currents into his soul. Night-dark, lurid radiance bleeds from his eyes, foams like a fulligin fog from his lips. The street fades from his site, becoming only a panoply of various spiritual signatures, none of them capable of resisting what is to come.

Focusing solely on the Babylonian man -- he sees that and more, now that the man's soul is naked in his sight -- Shealtiel reaches out with his free hand, clutching, tendrils of ebon power extending like claws from his gnarled fingers. Shrieking, the power winds itself around the psychic's soul, crushing it; smothering it, but Shealtiel does not stop there. He tears on the tether, dragging the man's essence into himself, tasting it... devouring it.

Rather than sag in numb exhaustion, Shealtiel instead feels a surge of invigoration, bursting with plundered vitality. As the necrotic light fades from his eyes, they shine instead with an exuberance he has not felt since he was a young man. He has never before... feasted in such a way. It is, no doubt, an addictive sensation.

[Serra Britt]

Feenai was already working hard to keep her last meal inside her when the mental signature of the other man vanished. Not do much died, his mental trace was just suddenly done. She looked and saw Shealtiel with an almost joyful expression on his face. If not for what had just happened it might have been a good sign, as she had never seen the old man with such a happy look. The snuffing of the other man's entire thoughts scared her, and she thought about running in panic. Oddly, Ruebella's face came into her mind, mocking her just as she had the previous night, and Feenai latched onto that if only to remind herself to stand firm and not run away. I can't do anything else though...I don't even know what I can do about any of this.

[CupcakeDolly]

After entering the minds of the two psychics, events happened almost too quickly in succession for Rue to keep track of it all. She withdrew from the two just as Lev's bullet pierced the woman - death was not something that she liked to experience firsthand, even if it would take a while for the struggling woman to finally pass over.

While everyone else was busy doing what is what that they did - her bodyguard ate more human bodies, the old man dealt with death in his own unique way, the psychic woman... stood around and watched - Rue heard the footsteps of several men approaching, and reached out instinctively to judge their distance. She sighed with exhasperation and ran to stand by the artificer, making sure that her investment would not be killed.

When the men with the guns were in sight and Lev had successfully provoked them ("You are not helping!!"), Rue summoned a burst of energy and latched onto each of their minds, evoking in them random collective images of torture and pain, death and darkness, overlapping their conscious thought with every imaginable fear they might have, preventing them from taking action or understanding their situation.

With her concentration on distracting the soldiers still in place, Rue shouted to the others, "We must go. Now!"

[Salone]

What disturbs- Food presents itself?

Lev blinked, putting a hand to his head. The headache was back, with a vengeance. He hit himself across the head, struggling with...something...inside him. He stopped after a moment, eyes dilated quickly, taking the armed guards in. And by their states, they were under the influence of something very disruptive.

He let out a guttural roar, both base in instinct and full of fury. Running at full sprint at the guards, he slammed in to the closest one. Teeth sank in to his throat, ripping out the trachea and carrying it in his jaws as hands clasped around a second's neck. With a twist it snapped, a sudden force unseating the skull from the neck bones entirely. He spit out the throat he had clasped in his jaws, biting and tearing chunks out of the men before him. With their minds completely devastated by Rue's capabilities, Lev made very short work of their flesh.

Around the fourth murder, Lev found his knife. It became more than bloodshed as he now tore much more quickly in to people, cutting down hamstrings, chests, and eyes. It wasn't even eating anymore that drove him, simple killing was enough. Using his knife he ripped the intestines out of one guard through a hole in his stomach, not even stopping as he pulled away with them. In a single move he wrapped them around another's neck, strangling him as he connected the two in death. And as they died, Lev seemed to surge with more violence and brutality.

Lev slowed as he came upon the last, looking to finish off for a whole dozen. With all his strength he cut a deep and wide gash horizontally across his chest. Bringing him to the ground, fingers worked in to the wound he had created. Fingers clasped around ribs, around the meat. With all his strength he pulled them upwards. The bent, creaked...and with a snap, the sternum cracked open. Blood spewed in all directions, his organs exposed to the world in a sickly mess. And with such a sight, Lev's hunger returned. He lunged downward, sinking teeth in to the man's still beating heart as he ripped it from his chest.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

Watching the butchery, Shealtiel is still beset by the ecstasy of the soul's energy coursing through him. He is only barely able to maintain his composure. He imagines the energy will last until he expends it, though hopefully he will grow used to the sensation over time, so it isn't quite so... distracting.

As the Lion of Tsavo slaughters the soldiers, Shealtiel mutters to the others, "There is... definitely... something inside of him. Inhuman... ravenous..." His breath comes in short bursts, each quivering with the rapturous sensation.

When Lev is finished, Shealtiel once more speaks. "We should keep moving. They're likely mobilizing reinforcements even as we stand here. This way." He leads them out the north end of the street, toward the armory. his MDI does not display any powerful psychic signatures beyond his companions, which is good. There could well have been a potent psychic or two among the city's guards, but if so, they have not yet taken action.

[Suzerain of Sheol]

As Dante enters the Armory, he is ushered through a dark corridor and into the arsenal proper. The room is well-lit, a high-ceiling warehouse lined with rows of steel shelving. There are armaments of every kind: pistols, rifles, RPGs, knives, swords, stun batons, riot shields, and more. There must be hundreds of crates of ammunition. In the rear, several military vehicles is lined against the wall, along with heavier, non-man-portable weapons. Along the right wall is a smaller, walled depot with a heavily fortified door, presumably where the special weapon reserves are held.

Also within the chamber are many soldiers of the town, frantically donning body armor and arming themselves. The Artificer's depot is open, and what look to be grenades and Reciprocity Generators are being distributed by a man in a lab coat, though he seems annoyed at the quantities that are being requisition.

As Dante is led in, the soldiers look up, many with loaded weapons in hand. Behind him, the doorman speaks up. "This one had a Doomsday Code. Don't know where he got it, but procedure's procedure. Just gotta get him checked out through the Network, then he can have whatever he wants.

The man activates the MDI on his wrist and begins questioning Dante on his personal information.

[CupcakeDolly]

How could she have expected the man to have followed her orders? With her hold still on the soldiers, Rue no longer needed to conjure images for them - the simple sight of Lev's rampage seemed to be enough to keep them in place. She winced, the internal cries of their deaths filling her head, memories and regrets and wishes and everything that carried with one's final moments flooded her and racked her mind and body, but she persistently kept them in place until the 'lion' had finished with his meal.

When the last man fell, she stumbled and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, panting heavily and shivering. At the old man's observation, she shot him a sarcastic, "No, do you really think so?" Reaching toward him with her psychic presence, she could feel the effects of his own recent meal radiating beyond himself. She leeched a tiny amount of the euphoria to calm her nerves, doubting that he would notice or care.

When the shaking had stopped, she approached the feasting man, pulled back, and kicked him in the side with as much strength as she could muster. She doubted that he would notice, but the action at least served to make her feel better about what he had done to her. She turned then to the artificer and unceremoniously grabbed his wrist. "We must go," she said with only a small amount of harshness and began to follow the old theurge, dragging the artificer along with her.

[Espy]

"Name? Er...Gabe." Sorry, Gabe, worked myself into a rut here, ahaha...

"...Really now. What's your last name?"

"Oh. Heh. Uhm. Tarlis." Sorry, Mom, I might've just aroused suspicion of my long-lost cousins...

The doorman looked him over, then, after a few long and uncomfortable minutes: "Gabe Tarlis. Records say that you don't exist. If you're not going to be serious about your name, then I want to know the reason you're here. And why do you have a Code on you?"

"Well, you see, there was someone I had to meet here, and I've been traveling for a while under a pseudonym, because, you know, there are a few people out to get me, and...yeah."

"...Very believable that a man like you, with no psychic abilities whatsoever, can move around this easily. You do realize that we aren't stupid, Lucifer?"

Dante winced, a dead giveaway. Oh shet. This ain't good.