Predators: Talon vs Canine RPG

London. The Whitechapel District.

In his youth, Liam had heard of the history of Whitechapel from his father. He remembered being told of the legend of Jack the Ripper as a moral story to refrain from becoming like the mysterious serial killer. Unfortunately as he matured, Liam had been consumed by the monster that resided within him and had become a killer with a legend of his own. He had arrived at Whitechapel to pay homage to his dark role model by murdering a young woman at midnight, over a span of five nights in tribute to the Canonical Five victims of the Ripper.

Liam strolled through the popular street market that was the source of the vibrant night life, searching for his fifth and final victim. However, he wasn't the only hunter here as the police had dispatched every available officer, posting a pair of London's finest near every kiosk. These fine men and women of the law had let four women fall prey to the "Ghost of the Ripper" as the public had nicknamed him. They were going to try to avert the murder of Liam's last prey. Try and fail, he thought as no matter how many officers they sent, they would not be able to stop this ritual.

"Hold it!" A commanding voice spoke from Liam's right side, that made him stop in his tracks. He turned to face two policewomen who quickly approached him. "May I see some identification please?" One of the pair asked as she held out an open hand, to which Liam had produced his passport. "Liam Se... Ze..." The officer struggled with pronouncing his surname for a few moments before Liam assisted. "Szever, ma'am. Liam Szever." He spoke with a timid tone and flashed a pasted smile. Like every night since the first murder, he would play the role of the feeble tourist when questioned by the authorities. “Canadian? As soon as I heard your accent, I thought American.” The woman was surprised as she inspected Liam’s passport. “Yes ma’am, we Canadians and Yanks sound almost exactly the same. Except for the small things like ‘eh’ and ‘aboot.’” He finished with a contagious chuckle that had immediately spread to both of the officers. “This stop is about the Ripper, isn’t it?” Liam asked, his smile quickly had faded. The policewomen then silently nodded. “How long have you been visiting Mr. Szever?” The one that remained silent the entire time, until now, had asked. “Arrived a few weeks ago. I promised my mother before she passed, that I would eventually travel throughout Europe. Starting with England and ending with Italy.” The only truth to this fable Liam had answered was that he did indeed arrived a few weeks prior, in preparation for his killings. Convinced of his story, Liam was handed back his passport. “If you see anything suspicious, please report to the nearest authorities.” “I shall do.”

Liam’s deception had paid off for the fourth time in a row and was now free to continue his hunt as midnight was quickly approaching.

3 Days Ago

As always, it began with a man or a woman, large sums of money, and a contract which always seemed easier than it really was. This time was no different, except for one thing. I lost, I failed. Logan thought now, arriving to meet his latest employer dressed in a weak attempt at civilian apparel. The battle with Dmitri, the professional wrestler and Paragon of Strength had taken its toll on him, both physically as his body suffered the damage of his pasts fights, and mentally as his mind lacked the confidence it had before. Although the fight had ended in a draw, neither him nor Dmitri winning, it wasn't good enough. It was a failure.

As always, no name, complete anonymity, the man wore a suit of status and wealth, with brown hair slicked back, holding a metal briefcase which no doubt contained a part of the sums he was about to offer Talon. The man was obviously powerful, a politician, or a businessman? It didn't matter, someone wanted a job done, and war was his speciality. "Glad you could make it" the man didn't smile, the location was a motel room, no doubt rented just for the night so the two could meet to discuss business. "Let's get to business then" the man said after Logan had ignored his first remark.

As always, straight to business, the faster the better "My daughter..." the man began, clearly trying to hold back some strong emotion which danced inside of him. it seemed as if it were painful for him to even say the words he was saying, and was about to say. Talon didn't say anything, he waited for the man coldly, with his brown hair styled to the back, outgrown, and in need of a haircut. The man had gathered his emotions again "She's a nurse, transferred to England where she's studying further courses in the Whitechapel District" the man had seemed to have gotten his emotions in control, when he suddenly burst into tears, his face turning red. He reached for a tissue, taking a minute to wipe the tears away. Talon was in an awkward position, and turned his head when something caught his eye. A photograph sitting by the mans bedside table, of him and a young woman, looking directly at the frame and smiling.

The man began to elaborate "The Ghost... of the Ripper" hate filled his face at the invisible force which took his daughter from him "some low-life scum, took my daughter from me, just took her like that!" the man continued "I want you to hunt down this son-of-a-bitch and kill him" the man seemed to feel a sense of relief after saying these words. "Here's a quarter of the money" the man passed the metal briefcase to Talon, who opened up and verified its authenticity. "Say something then..." the man said after Talon verified the contents of the briefcase. "Whitechapel district you say?" Talon asked, closing the case.

Today

It seemed as if Talon was travelling forward in time as the jet began to carry him from the United States to England, the sun dropping down at an accelerated rate as he pondered his choice of weapons. He didn't know what kind of an opponent he was facing, but it seemed probable he was a street-lever, which mean RPG's, Grenade Launchers and heavy weapons would cause more damage than was necessary. His choice of dress was simple, a sand-coloured coat which concealed his weapons, with a green undershirt, red tie and some brown pants. He wasn't too knowledge on how the english dressed, but he wasn't here to attend a fashion show. He was here to hunt a killer. Ironic, isn't it? he thought. War was all he knew, he lived for battle, yet here he was, hunting other killers, the reason? the story? It didn't matter. He'd take the job, not for the money, but for the living.

The jet touched down, and Logan stood up, skilfully walking so his weapons made minimal sound. He descended the stairs of the jet and looked upon the whitechapel district, considered one of the poor parts of London, it seemed the killer had chosen his location by coincidence, or was more knowledgable in his Jack the Ripper lore. He walked through the crowds of this new and foreign city, checking his watch briefly.

11:40AM, almost the brush of midnight.

Approaching the front entrance to the popular Whitechapel Gallery, Liam checked the LED display on his phone and smiled. Midnight was only eight minutes away and he had so much to do before the first bell. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a single brass key then slid it comfortably into the lock and turned it counter clock-wise.The latch that barred any intruder from entering at night, gave away, allowing access for Liam. He glanced over his shoulder, ensuring that no one was watching then proceeded to enter, locking the door behind him.

The interior of the gallery was dimly lit with candle-shaped bulbs, which suited Liam as it was easier for his naturally enhanced eyes to adjust. He had always preferred darker settings as they would always bring a soothing feeling. This sensation was however magnified by the eerie calmness each work of art projected. With every step he took that brought him further in the main hall, Liam had shifted his sight from one piece of human expression to another.

Liam then stopped near the end of the hall and looked up towards the ceiling and grinned. His fangs glimmered from the illumination of one the nearby candle-bulbs. “Hello Katrina.” He addressed the woman above, who had been hanging from a rope tried around her wrists. The woman tried to scream back out of fear, but her voice had been muffled by a piece of tape that covered her mouth.

86 Minutes Earlier

Liam had neared the end of the street market and yet, he was still searching for his final victim. Unlike the previous nights, the pressure of time was against him. There were also specific features he felt the last woman had to match. Being that the final victim of the Ripper, ‘Black Mary’, was a tall and slim woman with blue eyes and dark brunette hair, Liam’s victim would need to be the same. Unfortunately, the market had no female occupants that possessed those features. Liam would be forced to extend his search.

It was at a nearby bar where Liam had found his ‘Black Mary’.

Upon entering the popular late-night establishment, he immediately noticed the young woman surrounded by her friends at the far side of the entrance. “Perfect.” He thought out loud before he made his way to the counter and took a seat. He glanced at his phone, with just over an hour; he would have to be quick about his approach.

Present Time

“Why do you look so sad?” Liam asked, noticing tears running down his captive’s face. “We had such a great time at the bar, even though it was brief.” He then checked the time once again. Five minutes remaining, it was time for him to complete his work. “Let’s get you down from there!” Liam announced as he aimed a closed fist towards Katrina and twitched his wrist. A single keratin claw burst from the skin between his far two knuckles and shot upwards, slicing through the rope that hanged Katrina from the ceiling. He watched as the woman fell over twenty feet and landed hard against the marble floor, breaking both her legs. “Sorry.” Liam apologized with an empathetic look on his face, watching Katrina groan in pain. “I guess I should’ve caught you.”

11:40AM

Not quite looking the part of a native Englander, Talon didn't care. Time seemed to come to a standstill as he navigated the crowds of the Whitechapel district. Twenty minutes to catch a faceless killer, then he'll disappear into London's crowds. Talon didn't care if the fifth woman died, but her death meant the killer would slip away, completing the five canonical murders of Jack the Ripper. If I would commit this murder, where would I do it? Logan asked himself, Somewhere quiet, somewhere indoors, somewhere restricted. This did not help, the Whitechapel district was too big for one man to find a needle in a haystack in this short timeframe.

His eyes began to scan the crowds around him, looking for the face of a murderer he did not know. He began to come closer to the Whitechapel gallery, a public art gallery, closed right now. A man casually walked to the door of the gallery, pulling out a key, skilfully hiding his actions and intents to the few members of the public outside their houses right now. Talon sat down on a cafe chair, pretending to look at the menu, while in reality observing the man. The man slid inside, locking the door behind him.

This wasn't the curator. Curators don't have mohawks, he looks way too young to be a curator, and curators don't come this late at night. Talon knew it was a gamble to chase this man, but it wasn't the only lead he had, and no time to pursue more. The man clearly locked the door behind him, and lockpicking would draw too much attention in this crowd. No other choice. He got up and casually walked to the door of the gallery. Crouching down, he obscured the view of the lock, and began the process of lock picking. Within seconds he'd broke the lock.

11:53AM

The time is almost here, i'll either find a killer, or a man. Talon produced his handgun from his coat, checking every corner as he turned around, the human paintings gave an eerie sense of foreboding to the atmosphere as Talon navigated the rooms. A loud sound suddenly, something hit the floor hard. Talon felt an urgent sense to rush towards the room from which the sound came, but he advanced at a normal speed, Best to have the element of surprise. Finally, he entered the room, exiting his crouching position. The younger man was there, along with a crying woman, her legs in a hyperextended position. The man seemed to be having his fun. Talon raised his handgun, aiming it at the murderer, he could say a phrase right now, about how sick the scene before him was, but instead, his finger pressed on the trigger, firing a bullet towards the killers midsection. Little did he know he was hunting a mutant.

Normally Liam would have detected the intruder as soon as the man had entered the gallery, but he was entirely focused on Katrina. “You have no idea how important you are to me.” Liam whispered, watching with hungry eyes as his prey convulsed from overwhelming pain. Soon, Liam would take this tormented and brutalized woman, and transform her into a work of art. Her body would become a canvas, her blood would substitute for paint, and Liam’s keratin razors would act as several brushes. Katrina would become the reincarnation of ‘Black Mary’, the final part to his Canonical Five, his masterpiece.

Having become lost within his imagination, Liam was left vulnerable to the intruder that hid in the darkness across from him. It was not the loud discharge of the firearm that brought him back to reality; it was the sharp pain of the projectile as it ripped through the flesh of his stomach and burrowed deep into his intestines. His body then recoiled from the impact, sending him stumbling backwards a couple of steps before regaining his footing.

Without checking on his wound, Liam stared towards where the attack had originated from. His infrared sight revealing a man-shaped heat signature that hid in the shadows. “I see you.” Liam announced with a snarl that displayed a mixture of both anger and pain. What followed was a moment of silence as Liam glared towards the intruder. Was this man a cop who had followed him inside? Liam wondered just before the silence had been broken by the sound of the wounding bullet being forced out of his body and dropping to the floor.

Liam began to approach his attacker, taking one long stride over the now unconscious body of Katrina and glancing at her for a moment. “Stay right there. We’re not finished yet.” His sight shifted back towards the heat signature. Twitching his wrists, Liam’s claws slowly carved out from his closed hands, setting into place as they extended just over twelve inches from his knuckles.

The man advanced on him, practically shrugging off the impact of the bullet. Superhuman healing or a high pain tolerance? Talon knew he was trained to overcome his own pain, and fight beyond human capacity, an ability of his that bordered on the superhuman. The man now advanced on him, from his hands came out several small blades. "A mutant?" Talon asked, coming out of the darkness, he kept his pistol trained on the man, if this man is indeed a mutant, the mutant race has enough hate as it is without some jack-the-ripper want to be playing murder in the dark. He shot three expertly placed bullets onto the mans midsection, mathematically the easiest place to hit. Talon suspected they wouldn't keep him down, and reached into his sand-colored coat, producing a Glock 18, a fully automatic handheld pistol. It held 33 rounds, had a 1200 rounds per minute speed, meaning he could dispense all of the bullets in under two seconds. To the untrained user, the G18 had high recoil. He raised the G18, ready to shoot his opponent.

This man was not a member of the London Police force, Liam realized as three more projectiles were fired towards him. There were no demands for surrendering or announcements made about the building being surrounded. The only words that came out of the assailant's mouth before pulling the trigger were "A mutant" asked out loud and with alarm. That's when Liam had presumed that the man was here to kill him, but not originally knowing what he was up against.

As the bullets came within a millisecond of striking his chest, Liam instantly evaded them by rolling towards his right. He could have just stood still as they had hit their mark and although they would have barely done anything to incapacitate him, he was not fond of the pain that came with being shot. So, he displayed a remarkable feat of speed and agility that would also reveal more of the creature his attacker was facing. "No... Not just a mutant." Liam responded as he slowly rose back up to his feet. "A monster!" He announced as the echo from the first bell of midnight rang a few kilometers away, at the large clock tower at the Palace of Westminster known as 'Big Ben'.

The Glock 18 in his hand, Talon watched as his opponent performed a feat of agility and speed which surpassed any he'd seen before. Faster than Dmitri, is he stronger? he though, taking a few steps back to create distance between the two of them. CQC would be very difficult with the opponent he was facing, his claws might just cut the mercenary up.

_ _ _ _

Civilians outside who'd heard the sound of gunshots began calling the London Police Force, and news of the gunning reached the curator, who awaited outside with a shotgun. These punks are going to blow my gallery to pieces. the man thought, not ready to go out of business just yet. The gallery was a treasure, and he didn't tolerate vandalism. Unlocking the front door, he shut it behind him, keeping it unlocked for when the police arrived. He began advancing towards the source of the noise, his shotgun in hand raised up towards every corner he turned. He wouldn't arrive at the scene just yet, but he was close.

_ _ _ _

Talon fired his Glock 18 at the mutant, unloading half of its magazine, hopefully to some avail. 16 bullets raced through the air towards the 'monster,' who may be capable of dodging them. "A monster? Is that why you cut women up? What kind of a motivation do you have for something like that?" Talon asked, angry at what he was seeing. He put his hands inside his coat, and produced a taser, which hopefully might put him down if the man advanced close enough. Holding it in his left hand, he held his Glock 18 in the other, ready to face his attacker once more.