A crash shook the platform of the marketplace, and the giant's rampage came to a surprisingly sudden end. Fallen, and quickly set upon by Darren, who proceeded to demonstrate an ability unlike anything he'd been witness to in the past. With nothing but a breath taken, Darren stilled Rock Hammer's rampaging body, but immediately fell off of the massive mutant and started hacking up blood. Piecing together the exact specifics of what had just happened wasn't Viktor's focus, but he guessed there was something different about the man's lungs. Helped explain the voice.<br/><br/>For a few seconds, he almost relaxed. Rock Hammer was down for the count, evidently not dead. That enough was deserving of some amount of celebration. Half the city had been turned back into the rubble it was built from, but he was stopped before things went even further. Unfortunately, neither townsfolk nor guards seemed to agree. Armed, armoured men arrived on scene, guns primed and voices shouting angrily. Immediately, Viktor took a step back and raised a hand defensively when a barrel was aimed towards Rock's unconscious form.<br/><br/>"Hey, hey! Easy!" He commanded, getting a response of multiple weapons turned on him.<span style="font-style: italic">"Motherfucker,"</span>he wordlessly cursed. "Just put the guns away. Nobody else has to get hurt today." His bargaining, paired with both Darren and Nikolav's attempts to talk the guards down, scattered their attention. Weapons flicked between targets, and angry townsfolk chimed in.<br/><br/>"None of this would have happened if that monster wasn't brought down here!" A woman shouted, standing near the remains of what looked to have been a stall at some point.<br/><br/>Her yell brought others out, voicing displeasures at the situation. One in particular took notice of the patch sewn onto Viktor's sleeve, immediately jumping on it as a source of blame. "He's a fucking Stalker! They're nothing but trouble! He brought it here!"<br/><br/>Tensions rose, and more of the crowd became restless. Monsters, Stalkers, and property destruction. Three things that many people hated, all brought together in a dire situation that ruined homes and livelihoods. The last accusation was not entirely wrong. Viktor<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>directed the group towards the city, led them all to a place he thought would be safe. But now, hours and decades of work ruined later, being in town was clearly not working out in their favor.<br/><br/>The guards remained vigilant, silently holding their weapons on the ragtag squad that was still increasing in size. Newcomers to the scene that took the side of the accused were targets of the rowdy village's abuse, just as the ones responsible for the destruction were. Furious words spat out at them all. Useless, they screamed at the leader. Animals, they called the more obviously mutated. Curses of all sorts of severity were spat out.<br/><br/>Viktor grit his teeth at the ever-loudening cacophony of rage. A smaller voice, closer to him, rang out among it. His attention turned to Inga, and he defensively positioned himself in front of her when he saw a rifle turned in her direction when she came into view. "We're leaving," He answered under his voice, glancing back at her just long enough to let her know. He then turned back to the crowd, just in time to catch a stone (or a chunk of busted concrete) in the face, splitting the skin above his left eye.<br/><br/>Recoiling, he instinctively gripped at the wound and took some uneven steps away, grunting out a heavily muffled swear through a clenched jaw. Uncomfortable warmth dripped down the side of his face, and a reactive anger welled up in him. Turning back around, a deft hand pulled his sidearm from its holster, and aimed it directly at someone who was preparing to throw another piece of debris. Naturally, the guardsmen all turned their guns on him, and everyone grew silent.<br/><br/>"You want us out?" Viktor rhetorically asked. "Then fine. Let us go. Open the station gate up top. But nobody's going to hurt anyone else today." He motioned with his head towards Rock, making explicit mention of the giant. "And we take him with us. You don't want him waking up down here, do you?"<br/><br/>The crowd, at least those who had not immediately bailed when a weapon was pointed towards them, began to slowly move away. Whispers, indecipherable to Viktor's human ears at this distance, were exchanged between citizens and the guards. The period of decision was strained and discomforting, but eventually, the guards began to lower their guns. Viktor slowly allowed his own arm to fall as well, eventually holstering the weapon when the line of people ahead of them split and formed an opening. A pair of them walked forward, and motioned for the group to come.<br/><br/>From behind, the rest of the Stalker group arrived, things packed and ready to go. One of them took immediate notice of Viktor's wound, and rushed forward with a scrap of cloth to try and stop the steady flow of blood that was dripping down his cheek and onto his shoulder. After a few seconds, he snatched the cloth himself and turned towards the squad, giving an order.<br/><br/>"Pick the big guy up and carry him out. We aren't here anymore. Move!" He barked out. No time was wasted by the others, all of whom moved towards the unconscious mutant to try and get him out of the marketplace. After a few attempts, they managed to roll him over and lift him up together, shimmying slowly across the platform and following the path of the guards.<br/><br/>-----<br/><br/>Stefan chuckled briefly at the mention of his getup. "Like it, eh? Carved the thing out myself," He proudly declared. "It only took about three bears worth of hide to get right, but it's worked wonders so far." In all honesty, the mask did nothing. It was about as effective as the real deal against disease protection, and didn't even include the traditional mixture of heavily scented herbs in the beak. Still, it satisfied some strange compulsion he'd gained post-mutation to hide himself from the outside, and it was useful for that.<br/><br/>He found Mikhail's words quite interesting, as his apparent (if somewhat off) awareness of the things around him contrasted heavily with the state of his eyes. Blindness seemed an obvious disability of the damaged organs, their unnatural and complete colouration leaving no doubts that normal sight was no longer a thing that the younger man had. In addition, the directions given during their encounter with a demon earlier made Stefan think about what exactly was going on with those eyes of his.<br/><br/>An examination was definitely ideal. If not to find a treatment, then to better understand the nature of Mikhail's sight. But that was for later. Mikhail's next question drew another bit of amusement from the doctor, and with a shake of the head exaggerated by the long-faced mask, he answered. "Oh, no, no. Not while that thing is still out there." The hound in question had been hurt, but not nearly enough to kill it. "With the gash I gave it and the potential schrapnel wounds, I'd have to guess it<span style="font-style: italic">might</span>bleed out within...Oh, say, four days? And that's if the cuts don't close up by then."<br/><br/>Macabre details of the beast's durability aside, he directed Mikhail towards another door. "But no. We have some gardens set up here to grow things. Ever heard of hydroponics?" He asked with legitimate curiosity. Many wastelanders had lost knowledge of old world culture and technologies, but the offhanded mention of religion made Stefan wonder how much Mikhail had. "There are a few things we do, depending. I do wish we had some more variety, but we get by." Beans became incredibly boring after enough time, but they were easy to grow and ration. He still cursed the fact that apparently, nobody in the compound had managed to find any damned asparagus after the big discovery of a seed bank years ago.