The ride to the M.O.N. base was proving awkward for more than just Rob. He hadn't expected the four girls to all pile in the vehicle after him. He hadn't expected to suddenly be in such close confines with four monster girls. The fact that all of the them were rather beautiful individuals only made him more uncomfortable, not to mention that fiery red headed one and the cyclops were packing serious firepower, to say nothing of the seven and half foot tall looking one with the horn that could probably rip his head clean off if she wanted.
He tried to focus instead on the weapons of the red head, instead of her two different colored eyes, or the lines of stitches that crisscrossed her face…or her rather large breasts (he wasn't dead after all [wait a minute…was there a zombie joke in there somewhere?{doesn't matter}].) However she seemed to become a bit irritated at his persistent gaze and eventually snapped "What are ye starin' at!?"
He raised his eyes to look into her own, for a moment before answering gently in a rumbling baritone. "Vepr AK's" he said nodding toward the twin Ukrainian bullpup rifles she carried. She blinked "How did…?" she began. "Gun nut for life" he said offering a small smile "I didn't expect to see a pair here in Japan, you must have some interesting connections to get a hold of weaponry like those, or the AXSR MIL your companion has there" he said nodding towards Manako as she cradled the rifle made by the highly lauded British firm of Accuracy International.
Turning to Manako briefly he asked ".338 Lapua?" Blushing a little at his direct and unflinching gaze, Manako merely nodded. He nodded back in respect "You must be a gifted woman to handle such a weapon, and I salute you" he said genuinely, causing Manako to only blush more deeply. Looking back at Zombina he said "It's impressive seeing you wield two Veprs at once as well, but if you wouldn't mind me suggestion, I'd recommend a pair of F&N P90's.
Zombina narrowed her eyes before asking "Why's that?". "Smaller platform, ambidextrous design, higher mag count, and even though it's a smaller round then the 5.45 of the Vepr, the 5.7x28 still maintains the ability to defeat body armor" he summed up, showing off just a bit. Zombina said nothing aloud, but felt impressed at both the guys cool demeanor, and his apparent broad knowledge of firearms.
Speaking up a bit so the rest of the passengers could hear him he said "Please forgive me if I'm starting to smell, I'll have to wash up as soon as I can, and I'm sorry that you all had to become involved with this" before sitting back in the seat again and closing his eyes. His face became relaxed and almost peaceful looking, if it hadn't been caked in blood. The feeling in the vehicle was altogether more odd than before. No-one could get a fix on this guy.
"You should be able to clean yourself off at a shower at the station, though you'll have to do so under observation" Smith said from where she sat at the driver's seat. "Appreciate it" was all he said in response.
Soon enough he was being escorted into the official M.O.N. headquarters, and lead down to a basement level. Many in the halls gave the crowd a wide berth, as much out of deference to the unit, as out of alarm at the sight of the large, handcuffed man they were escorting, still covered with drying blood. Almost the entire time, he kept his eyes looking straight ahead, following the path of his escorts, only occasionally letting his eyes flicker over anything else.
Eventually he was lead to a vacant locker room, where he was released from the cuffs, and still under watch by both Zombina and Doppel, was lead to a single shower stall which had had the curtain removed. He was giving a bar of soap, and told that if he tried to do anything other than bathe, he'd be swiftly subdued. Nodding in understanding, he proceeded to take off his boots, before stripping out of his stained shirt and pants.
Out of modesty, and a bit of respect, he left his boxer briefs on so as not to just flash his cock and balls to his two "guards", and after letting the shower warm up, he stepped under the hot spray, and began to scrub the sticky, dried blood off his face, arms, and from where it had soaked through his shirt. Zombina and Doppel both gawked however, at the broad swath of tattoo ink that decorated his arms, shoulders, chest, back and almost entirely one side of his body.
Along with the runic and +VLFBERH+T sword tattoos that decorated his forearms, he had an immense heraldic design of an attacking black lion on his lower abdomen, along with runic wheels over each pectoral. His right shoulder bore the visage of a hooded figure with a fantastical and evil looking grin and red glowing eyes, all else hidden in shadow. His left upper arm was dominated by a snaking lightning bolt that raced down from a dark storm cloud on his shoulder, Futhark Runes visible in the thunderhead.
Down the middle of his back, over a half dozen stanzas were printed, also in runes, and most of the right side of his chest, back, under his right arm, his right hip and upper thigh were covered with an unguessable number of small half inch long lines, some red, some dark green, most just black, there had to be well over a thousand. Both girls blushed however as they both came to see, at the same time that his well soaked briefs now limned his manhood and testicles, to the point that the only thing left to the imagination were exact skin tones and color…
After he was allowed to dry off, and change into the spare pair of underwear he had kept in the pack he had brought with him that morning when he had left his hotel room (be prepared), he was given a plain heather gray tee shirt, and led to a room where he would be kept under watch by one of the M.O.N. agents, or Smith, until they knew exactly what they were supposed to do with him.
Smith got the first shift, and sat across from the man at the small table. He said nothing and merely kept his eyes closed. "You're awfully quiet, all things considered" Smith noted. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her for a moment before closing them again and saying "Would you rather I pointlessly rant and rave about the unfairness of it all? Demand to speak to someone and my countries embassy, like some pompous, entitled American?" he said flatly. "I'm just a bit surprised at how calm you're being, considering everything you'll probably be facing" she answered. "What will happen, will happen, regardless of whether or not I become theatric or not. I knew what would happen the moment I chose to take action, and I haven't deluded myself into thinking anything has changed along the way here" he stated.
Smith decided that further conversation was pointless, but couldn't stop herself from asking "Why didn't you just get the girl away from him? Why bother with continuing on and beating him to death?" she had to know, something in her refused to just let whatever his reason was stay a mystery to her. She once again nearly caught her breath as he fixed the piercing, almost baleful, gaze of his blue eyes onto hers.
This time though, she noticed that the eyes weren't fixed on her as she initially thought, but were seeing something far away that only he was seeing. Brief looks of pain, sadness, and horror flashed for the briefest moments over his face. When he spoke his voice was hushed, almost choking as he said "I once saw the most horrible things being done to those who could do nothing to fight it, and I did nothing about it. I swore an oath later, that if I ever saw such a thing again, and was able to do something about it, regardless of what it would cost me, I would"
Smith sensed that there was something much bigger about this statement, hidden beneath the surface of this man, out of her sight for the moment, but quickly pushed the thought aside as he added "That…THAT…!" she heard real anger in his voice this time as he fought to rein his emotions in and took a pause to inhale deeply and calm himself down. "He was not the kind that was about to change, and I would have torn myself apart if I had let him go unpunished, worse yet, he gloated to me about how I couldn't do anything, so I made sure that he would NEVER do anything like it, EVER again" he said, barely keeping the feral snarl out of his voice, the bones in his hands cracking audibly as he balled them into fists.
Suddenly he sighed again and seemed to deflate as he ended with "What's done is done now. He's dead, and I'm for prison"
At that moment Smiths phone on the table buzzed loudly, and she almost jumped as she answered the call. "Smith speaking…I see…he's right in front me" Rob perked up a bit as he realized the conversation pertained him and at the suddenly serious face on the agent across from him. "You're sure of that? I'll let him know" she said ending the phone call. She continued to stare down at the phone in her hand for a moment before looking up at Rob.
"The Orc survived, he's been stabilized in the hospital as we speak"