[center][h1][b]Albert Prelati[/b][/h1]

Interacting with: Berserker ([@Grey]), Leon & Saber ([@vancexentan])[/center]

[center][h2]Jonathan's base of operations - 2:40 PM December 2nd, 2012[/h2][/center]

[hider]Albert's heart stopped the moment he felt the cold metal kiss of the gun barrel against his head. 

[i]Damn.[/i]

Well this was hardly ideal. How had he not noticed him? For that matter, how did [i]Saber[/i] not notice him? Bah, he'd been sloppy. Or perhaps in Saber's case, intentionally inept. It was awfully convenient that Albert was the only one here with a gun to his head...

He cursed under his breath. Then he saw the man who'd cornered him, and he flat-out swore. If he'd said it once, he'd said it a thousand times. [i]Never trust a priest![/i]

No, not a priest. Not exactly. This man was either an Executor or an Eighth Sacrament member, perhaps even a Church-affiliated mercenary. The violence and hypocrisy of God personified. Or perhaps just what man believed to be God.

As he laid out his terms, Albert bit down on his lip, trying to keep quiet until he could put away the urge to say what was really on his mind. Blood squirted down his chin. Mindful of his situation, he turned to the man behind him. 

"Ze next time we do zis dance, I'm coming for you first. I'm sure you'll make great puppy-chow."

Some of his anger vented, he looked up at the Dead Apostle Hunter. 

"As much as I despise your smug attitude, I wouldn't say I 'ave any great desire to die today eizer. Satisfying as it would be to take a self-righteous ass'ole like you down wiz me in a fiery chasm of shame and jet fuel, I have greater ambitions to live for past ze next five minutes."

He sighed, breathing deeply as he took his life into his own hands with his next words. 

"'Owever, a man who admits 'e cannot be trusted should probably be taken at 'is word, and zerefore I propose a trade. If we truly all want to leave zis building alive, razer zen one party conning ze ozer and killing zem as soon as zey've broken eye contact, zen I would 'ave you agree to play 'ost to a few friends of mine. A few fairies to keep a finger on ze killswitch is all I ask, at least until I'm convinced we are out of range of any 'idden snipers. Failing zat, I feel as zough signing a geas scroll forbidding you and your men from attacking us again until nightfall should be no unreasonable demand. My friend Leon 'ere tells me 'e is quite good at crafting such scrolls. Aren't you, Leon?"

He nodded at his erstwhile "partner" (for Berserker was his only true partner in his mind), and then returned his gaze to the hunter.

"Well? Zose are your choices. Clock is ticking. Eizer you agree to my terms and we all walk away or I'll tell ma chère it's off wiz your 'ead and we all get to die togezer."

[i]Ma chère, if you've got any tricks up your sleeve, now is ze time.[/i]
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