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Dawn is likely the calmest time of day to be in Central Park. Between the time that the criminals who call it home during night, and the time that it is overrun with tourists; at least, before all of the disaster that has struck the city recently. The New York City tourism industry hasn't exactly been bustling of late, since those with any sense are in fact making efforts to vacate the city rather than visit for recreation. Giants and demons do not make for good clean family fun at the best of times, which these are not.
But for a man like Sergei Kravinoff, such events are a thing to celebrate and revel in. Creatures from beyond the mortal realm, the likes of which have never been seen? A dire need to kill them? This is Kraven's entire reason for being. Yes, the invasion from other realms seems to have come to an end now, but he had hunted and slain many otherworldly beings during the brief time they had been a danger. As always, he hoped for more opportunity. He sits on a grassy knoll in the early morning light in the park, his two enormous dogs enjoying some measure of freedom in the field before him; playing, if you can call it that, but most would see it as a rather violent fight between monstrous canine beasts. There's a stick, you see, and they both lay claim to it. Kraven looks on, a pleased expression on his face, occasionally calling advice to one or the other, which the dogs seem to actually take to heart in their quest to best the other. Occasionally, he glances about, looking perhaps for a park official to come and try to tell him to keep his dogs on a lead; an amusing thought, at the very least.
*
Bystander effect. It was something that always fascinated Ruca. The way that people would stop and stare as they watch someone being beaten down to a pulp, or if someones brains were blown out, they'd possibly run or scream, but the lingering few would stop, stare.. even move close to get a better look and claim to help. Claim. There was a kid she knew once upon the time who would create those instances so that he could get the close-up effect.
Icy blue eyes stare down the lone man in the park with the two monsterous dogs, a little squint given, leather clad finger curled around the trigger as she draws in a breath..
*BANG*
The bullet, military KGB grade cuts through the air at a whistle, aimed at the flank of one of the dogs to wound, injure.. and maybe if she's feeling happy enough?
Kill.
*
Dogs always seem to know the instant before they, or Kraven, are in danger. Just before the bullet was loosed, the Mastiffs abandoned their game to return to Kraven, but as fast as they might be, not quick enough to avoid the shot entirely. The bullet lodges itself in Sasha's left flank, and the enormous hound lets out a plaintive yelp, falling to the ground. Baron, the other and her mate, dives over her body to protect the fallen, teeth bared and snarling. Kraven is on his feet in a heartbeat, searching out the source of the shot as he runs toward his hounds; his hands find his weapon quickly, a long-barreled pistol from within his jacket, a Colt Woodsman to those who have an eye for such things. Kraven's nostrils flare, taking in the scents around him. The smell of gunpowder was unmistakeable to his senses, and it doesn't take him long to triangulate from the scent alone. Cold eyes track to where Veruca had taken her shot from, the gun levelled on her position. He's not going to give her a warning, or even a chance to run. His movements and aim are lightning-fast, and the instant he has discovered her location, he takes a shot of his own, intent to kill. You don't shoot Kraven's hounds and get a free pass. The shot fired, he then breaks into a run in her direction, signalling Baron with a sharp whistle to follow.
*
"WOOO!" Veruca nearly shrieks out, her fingers clasping into a fist to tug at an invisible rope in the air. But her little spot of victory was shortlived. She could read body movements well when it came to the fight, for once his hand drops quickly she immediately ducks and rolls, the shot missing her by literally a hair.
Literally.
Dark wisps of her hair float through the air, blown away by the wind, a sharp breath taken in as she leans forward and begins to run. There was no time to police her weapon, to pick up the spent shell. He was on the move, and he was right directly behind her!
The game was on!
*
"CURSED WOMAN!" Kraven shouts aloud, breaking into a full run. And the man is fast. Like, highway driving fast. Even Baron, the enormous Mastiff, has difficulty keeping pace, and with a curt click of his tongue and a motion, the Hunter signals the hound to return to its mate, to ensure that she is protected while he runs down the assailant. Mid-sprint, the gun is traded for the large hunting knife, the kind best used for clearing brush, or lopping the head off a fresh kill. "You cannot hope to outrun Kraven the Hunter, assassin!" The man's voice is a deep bass, with a noticeable Russian accent; not the crude diction of the peasants of the Union, but the practiced and educated speech of an aristocrat. And he's smiling, despite his rage; the hunt is on, indeed, and the woman seems worthy prey. But he has never been lost his quarry before, and does not intend to start now.
*
Uh oh! She supposes that she's pissed him right off! And while he was faster.. by a mile than her, she had the upper advantage. High ground, a few tricks of the trade, and distance. One hundred yards may not seem much to him at this moment, but to her? It's what matters. She takes the low tunnel through central park, right where the darkness begins, tossing her assault rifle into the copse of bushes sight unseen, able to use both hands to carry the momentum of her run. It was quick, the way she dodges towards the left after the tunnel, scraping herself up the hill and over to reach the street ahead, and down into the alleyway where the persuit would be squeezed into a bottle-necked fashion.
*
Kraven is closing the distance, but the woman is tricksy, using every opportunity to gain some ground, or at least keep her lead from shrinking as quickly. The Hunter knows that once she reaches the street it will be a completely different game, and while he's prepared for it, he would just as soon prevent the woman from making it that far, if possible. Of course, it isn't; she pulls herself up and over, and Kraven is not far behind. His wide bounds carry him right into the alley after her, perhaps aware that it could be a trap of her own devising, but not considering the woman enough of a threat to concern himself with whatever her plans may be. He's faster, stronger, and simply put, better. And he's a man. A woman could never best Kraven the Hunter, after all. Still out of reach but closing fast, Kraven channels his strength into a single bound, leaping forward in a manner not unlike the pounce of a jungle cat, hoping to tackle the woman to the ground; knife in hand, he intends to put it to good use in extracting several ounces of pain and blood from her before putting it to a quick end.
*
He would see one of two things once he enters the alleyway; two of the same women, though one running far ahead of the one that straggles behind. The woman ahead of him jumps and leaps, one foot pressing against the walls of the building, using that as a spider-monkey'ish type leap before she jumps ahead to burst through the glass of the abandoned warehouse ahead.
All the while the slower one keeps running, attempting to make it to the door, her hand stretched out to grasp upon the handle but.. it was too late! She was caught. The hard land puts her upon her belly as she lets out a little scream, her hands dragging against the concrete to try to gain the upper hand and actually -face- the man she attacked.. and she'd do it with a smile, and a laugh!
*
Kraven lets out a roar of triumph, pinning the woman down against the ground with his large arm, while the other holds the hunting knife against her throat. There were two, which came as a surprise to the Hunter. His sensees were not easily fooled. At least he caught one; the other will no doubt wait for her compatriot to join her, and so he will then catch the other. "Who are you, who would attack Kraven the Hunter in the light of day?" Because attacking either of his hounds is tantamount to an attack on the Hunter himself. "Your name, woman, before I open your throat. Why are you smiling?"
*
The roar of triumph was met with a solid laugh, the womans hands stretched out, her blue eyes gazing into his own as she first.. learns his name. "I am me." No, she wasn't going to give out her name so easily, especially with a man this fast, a man this deadly… she was down for the count, she knew that at this vantage? She was beat. "You're just a game. A reason for me to get my rocks off. A reason for me to laugh and have a good goddamned time." She purses her lips, her head turning as she lets out a spit in disgust. He was actually a pretty good looker, not that.. well.. Veruca was actually hunting for such. "Go ahead. Slit my throat. You're nothing but a conquest."
*
Kraven doesn't flinch at the spit in his face; in fact, he lets it strike him directly, even tasting it with a flick of his tongue, which draws a cruel smile from his lips. The knife is pressed harder against her throat, such that it would break the skin and draw blood. "A game?" He smirks down at her, "You are the game, foul woman. You gave me an excellent chase, but now you are caught. You attacked my hound. My Sasha. But you failed to complete the job. I will not be so foolish as to leave a hunt unfinished," he says, glaring down at her. It's slow and deliberate, the drag of his knife across her throat, as he savours the kill, the scent and the sounds of it. In fact, it's bordering on inappropriate, the pleasure he takes from the act of slowly cutting her open from ear to ear.
*
"Sasha is it? I'll remember that for next time.." He could take pleasure in it, drawing the blade across her throat. And it hurt. There was a look of deliberate shock that peels across her face as he does her in, but.. funny that, there was no blood! In fact, the slicing open of her neck only allowed the skin to split, the show of a crystalline glass peels back and forms beneath, until she begins to crack at the edges, fall apart from the seams into a shower and short rain of glass..
*
The woman beneath him shatters, and the surprise of it catches Kraven off guard. He lets out a loud growl, slamming his fist into the ground, without regard for the glass shards. His skin is tough, and whatever shards might embed themselves in his flesh do not penetrate far. He's on his feet a moment later, eyes darting toward the door the other woman had escaped through. "Foul creature," he mutters, propelling himself toward the door, to tear it open and pass through. Where has she gone. Once inside the warehouse, the Hunter shouts again, "Clever trick, girl. Show yourself, and your end will be quick.. hide, and I will find you.." His nose lifts to sniff the air, searching for her scent. "You cannot hide forever, woman.."
*