Doyle, the badly dressed superhero. (bowlingshirts) wrote in chaostheory_rpg, @ 2010-02-09 12:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | angel, doyle, week six |
Who?: Doyle and Angel.
Where?: POD.
When?: Probably around two PM. He and Kali didn't wait very long before storming the castle, just long enough to gather a few weapons and find Doyle another boot.
Why?: Doyle was gonna rescue Angel and Cordy, duh. >_> He just got in a little over his head, and now he's being held in a back room until their Big Boss/Angel can see what the deal is about the random attack by a Brachen demon and a hellgoddess. Of course, the hellgoddess escaped, though. -leer-
Status: Ongoing.
Not much of that went as planned. Doyle didn't expect to run into such trouble so early on and those that they encountered were deceptively strong. Had he known that they weren't just grunts, he probably would have taken on less at a time or found some other route. As it was, though, his confidence was boosted by the fact that he had a hellgoddess on his side and he figured that, whoever they were, would have a hard enough time against him in demonic form and that hard time would be made damn near impossible by throwing Kali into the fray. The point is that all of it was grossly miscalculated. Doyle and Kali had been outnumbered by people whose combat skill he had underestimated and, though he couldn't be sure, he felt like Kali might have been holding back. In any case, a well placed blow to the back of Doyle's skull rendered him unconscious. Whoever had hit him, of course, would probably be feeling his spikes in their fist or foot or whatever they'd used, and they'd probably be feeling them for days.
That was all he could remember. He was in a dim, windowless room now, his hands and feet bound together. No sign of Kali. She must have gotten away, or maybe they were holding her somewhere else. Doyle remained in his demonic form, figuring it safer that way. If - When he managed to get away, it would be best that none of these people could recognize his human face. Doyle's red eyes flickered about the room for useful objects, but there wasn't so much as a chair to use as a weapon even if there had been a sharp object laying conveniently nearby for him to cut his bonds with. Shit. Looked like he was gonna have to improvise when they looked in on him again. And that was alright, improvisation was a skill of his, anyway. The important thing now was that he was in, he reasoned. Who knows? Maybe Cordy and Angel were being held in just the next room.
He tested his strength against his bonds now, only confirming what he'd already assumed about the bonds being too strong for him to break manually. Someone must have been a boy scout, he reasoned, and they must have gone onto better materials as they got older. Just his luck. His head throbbed with the reminder of his felling blow and Doyle sighed heavily, leaning his head gingerly against the cold wall behind him and taking some relief in that cold sensation against what was probably going to be, if it wasn't already, a very large lump. There was a little satisfaction taken in that his assailant would be feeling a bit sore right now, too. Now he just waited. He was still alive, which hopefully meant that they weren't going to kill him. More than likely, though, they'd want to torture a few answers out of him, figure out what prompted an attack on their cover-up of a building. Doyle would have to feign ignorance, buy himself more time to figure his way out of this room and to find his friends. If he told them what he was there for right away, he'd be a goner.