[color=00a651][h1] [center] [b]Dzhon Piter Nabokov[/b] [/center] [/h1][/color]

The priest had been sent to investigate an infestation of demons, he wondered why the organization would send him alone. He surmised that he was more experienced then some of the other operatives. Driving his vehicle towards the location, he had the radio on, his car was radiated with the sounds of Marty Robbins singing about an outlaw falling in love with a Mexican woman. The older man was tapping his finger on the steering wheel singing softly to the music. Stopping his car in front of the building he was supposed to investigate, he slowly got out of his car. A bad feeling washed throughout his body, he said a quick pray to help with protecting him. Walking over towards the truck of his car and grabbing his weapons. 

Letting out another loud sigh before walking towards the building. Slowly opening the door there was an eerie silence, only being interrupted by the sound of water droplets hitting the floor. “Chert voz'mi, eto mesto vyzyvayet u menya murashki po kozhe.” (Translation-damn it, this place gives me the creeps.) The priest slowly made his way down a hallway keeping his guns aimed and his wits up. Years of being in a soldier had taught him to be aware of your surroundings. While walking down the hallway he was occasionally checking the rooms in the hallway. The only thing he could find nothing of use, nothing that could indicate what had happened here.  He stopped in one of the rooms down the hallway, Finding only deserted chairs, tables and other items telling him that people were here.  Moving out of the room he stopped where he was when he noticed something running passed him. He aimed his gun down the hallway expecting that figure was going to run back down the hall. “No point in delaying the inevitable, come out and so we can get this over with.” The older man could see far down the hallway a shadow rushing towards him.

“Gotcha.” He started to fire his gun at the figure who was rushing towards him. The figure trying to dodge the incoming bullets. Some of his shots hit, causing splatters of blood to stain the walls. When the figure was close enough the priest quickly switched to his falchion. What he seemed to fail to notice was the other figures that were behind the one he was shooting at. There seemed to be more than he thought, clicking his tongue before starting to try and slice at the approaching demons. However he did not expect there to be more than forty coming towards him, this was much worse than he thought. He had cut down a couple of them before he was slowly overwhelmed. The last thing he remembered was a demon’s fist coming towards his face, and then everything suddenly went dark. When he came to, he was inside of a makeshift jail cell, He scanned the area noticing that he was in what looked like a storage room. The door was blocked off with something heavy, he was not going to be able to remove it by himself. Peeking through the keyhole of the door, he could vaguely see two demons guarding the door. He wondered why they did not just kill him instead of imprisoning him. 

He worried that they were going to sacrifice him or he was going to be bait for some larger caught. All he knew was that he needed to get out of here.