The contract said you would be in this town, seeking refuge with some of the Roaches who had set up camp here. Of course, when the locals had seen the enormous, hooded merc rolling up to their shithole of a commune, most of them had scrammed. Which was...not helpful. He'd only wanted to ask some questions. Didn't need to kill anyone that he wasn't gettin' paid for, after all.

So he'd started to hunt you proper, tracking you like a good dog would - sniffin' the air, even. Not that it had been hard. You left plenty of tracks, and Dullahan had been at this game a long, long time. Still fun, though.

They say when you love your job you never work a day in your life.

He was humming to himself as he came upon the warehouse, an odd tuneless thing that seemed to emanate from all around his shadowed head rather than from any mouth. Dullahan knew you were inside, knew you were hurt - blood trails said more'n enough.

Like most of his contracts, you wouldn't even see him until he was right behind you. He nudged you with his knee to get you to look at him - just a preference of his. He liked to see people's faces, watch their eyes as he...y'know.

Only somethin' about you said he'd have more fun playing with ya than just killing you outright.

Dullahan drops onto his haunches, his muscled arms lazily resting on his knees as he stares - or at least, points the shadowed portion of his head in your direction. Then he reaches out and squeezes your cheeks with both hands.

There's a slightly awkward pause before he speaks, the rough sound coming somewhere from the shadowed confines of his hood.

"Nice face."

"Aw, lighten up." The faceless merc shrugs his shoulders beneath his tattered black jacket. "We're just havin' a bit of fun here, y'know?" With a grin that doesn't reach his eyes - or even seem to come from his shadowy face - he leans forward, hooking one arm around your back in a loose embrace.

"You wanna play, kiddo?" His voice is low and rough as gravel, surprisingly warm for someone who's supposed to be a cold-blooded killer. "Or do you just want me to take care of things the easy way?" With one casual motion, he raises his axe into the air...then lets it drop down with exaggerated slowness between them, point resting on the dusty floorboards.

The hooded figure doesn't seem surprised or even fazed by your quick change of tactics; instead, he simply drops into a crouch, then springs smoothly forward onto the roof in pursuit. His black combat boots make no noise as they land on the warm metal surface, and his axe remains at the ready in one hand. "C'mon, kitty-cat," he calls after you with what sounds like a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Where do ya wanna play?"

"Easy, easy there." The mercenary chuckles and reaches up to grab your wrist, easily twisting your arm behind your back. "No need to get violent just 'cause I'm havin' a bit of fun with you." He pauses for a moment, grinning beneath his hood. "Though if you really want to play rough..." His free hand rubs his neck suggestively before settling on your shoulder. "But enough about that."

Then he leans in close, speaking quietly into your ear so only you can hear him above the wind and distant sounds of the city below. "Marlo? Sanchez? Evsey? Nice try." He snorts, amused. "I've been working with MEDUSA longer than any of those bastards have even been alive. But hey," he pauses again, almost teasingly, "you could always ask The Company

The merc in the hood simply chuckles and leans back against you as you bend him over your knee, his body limp and relaxed despite the obvious discomfort of the position. "Really now?" He coos, voice still amused. "Well then, I guess we better make this quick." As if in some silent signal, his hand slips down to grasp yours that's wrapped around his throat, squeezing gently.

"I'm Dullahan," he introduces himself matter-of-factly as you press the knife against his skin. "But you can just call me a friend." Then, with what seems like effortless strength born from countless hours of training and actual combat experience, he snaps your wrist backwards, sending pain shooting up your arm and causing you to lose your grip on him. His free hand lashes out, clamping around your thro

The hooded merc named Dullahan simply grins beneath his shadowy cowl as the knife at your throat is effortlessly batted aside by a now-free hand. He coughs, dislodging some phlegm from his throat as he regards you coolly. "Don't mind me," he says with a chuckle, gesturing at the other man approaching. "Just enjoy your little reunion."

With that, he draws himself up to his full height (which is actually quite imposing despite his lack of head) and saunters away casually, whistling some inane tune as if there had never been any threat at all. The wind picks up, ruffling the black leather of his combat jacket and sending the tendrils of his dark hair dancing around his face.

He pauses, looking back over one shoulder at you for a moment before

Hmph. So much for that. Well, if you change your mind... just holler, kiddo. I'm always game for a good time. But don't say I didn't warn ya. The Company doesn't take kindly to their contractors messin' around with mortals. Catch ya on the flip side! And hey," his voice trails off as you seemingly grow taller and change before his eyes, "nice trick!"

The hooded figure raises an eyebrow at you as you approach and place a hand on his chest. "Well," he says slowly, obviously amused. "It's nice to know I made at least some kind of impression." He reaches up with one hand and brushes a strand of your hair back behind your ear, grinning beneath the shadows cast by his hood. "But you should be careful, kiddo. The Company might not take too kindly to that sort of thing, you know?"

Leaning closer still, he murmurs quietly into your ear, "Then again, sometimes it's just worth the risk." His breath tickles your skin as his free hand slides down over yours on his chest. "What do you say? Wanna play some more?"