Heart pounding in time to the clicks of his shoes on the wet pavement, Hardwick ran frantically through the streets. No matter how many shortcuts he took, no matter how many side-streets he wound through, the shrill cries and bellowing that stalked him only seemed to get louder and louder. He was running out of options.
From his perspective, the street he was running down looked no different to any others - a mish-mash of apartments and shopfronts, the odd alleyway that led deeper into the murky underbelly of the city. There's no way I can keep going like this. I need to come up with a plan.
Hardwick's breathing was laboured as he came to a halt. The constant drizzle of the last hour was rapidly whipping itself up into a storm, filling the streets with a fine mist as the rain pelted down, the odd thunderclap drowning out the sound of his pursuers.
There was a garage further up the street with a weathered sign next to it that read 'H.P. Lowecraft Motors: With prices like these, you'll think you're dreaming!' More importantly however, there was a large chainlink fence that blocked the adjacent alleyway - that would buy him some time.
He looked back down the street. He could see the mob in the gloom now as their long robes billowed in the cold night air. He could just make out their blood-curdling shouts: 'There's the heretic, don't let him escape!' 'I will consume your flesh and offer your soul to the Old Ones!' 'You cannot outrun your fate forever, rat!'
Hardwick didn’t need much more encouragement than that. It wasn't long before he was over the flimsy fence and bolting down the alleyway, away from the ravenous crowd. But he slipped and fell on the wet cobblestones as, much to his horror, a hooded figure stepped out from the shadows and produced an ornate dagger. Even in the gloom, the maniacal yellow grin of the cultist was unmistakable - like a snarling beast about to make their kill. 'Yog-Sothoth will feast well this evening.'
The figure lunged forward. Hardwick's hand shot down to his holster and pulled out his revolver as the raised dagger in his assailant's gnarled hand glinted in the streetlight's glare. He brought the small sidearm up as the cloaked figure brought down his knife, and pulled the trigger.
The shot rang through the alley louder than the thunder above. In the brief moment of illumination provided by the muzzle's flash, Hardwick looked up at his attacker's face and saw... Nothing. A sinister impermeable darkness filled the hood, obscuring everything but the man's bloodshot, wild eyes and his sinister yellow grin. The knife dropped from his now-limp fingers as his lifeless body dropped onto Hardwick's.
It took a bit of effort to roll the dead cultist off him; beneath the slim profile that the robes portrayed, the man was deceptively heavy. No sooner than had he gotten to his feet, the chain link fence behind him began rattling and the deranged cries of the others began to echo down the alley as they began to scale the barrier.
Hardwick quickly resumed his sprint down the alley, turning down a corner behind the garage to find nothing but a brick wall and a single, heavy-set oak door. He looked back at the way he came - there was no other way out, and they knew it. 'Oh, to Hell with it' he muttered under his breath. He squared his shoulders and began ramming the door, pleading with it to give way.
The robed figures rounded the corner slowly, blocking off the way back. One figure, clad in red rather than black, stepped forward. 'Give it up, James. There's nowhere left to run. If you had just stayed in Arkham and kept your nose out of our affairs, you could have lived a long and happy life. But the Great Old Ones demand tribute, and it is not my place to deny them. Take him.' The figure gestured to his devotees who slowly advanced towards Hardwick, chanting.
Hardwick paid no attention to them. He could feel the wooden bolt behind the door buckling under constant assault. Just... A few... More...
With the loud crunch of splintering wood, Hardwick burst through the door into the mysterious room beyond and landed on the floor. The door, curiously undamaged from this side, shut itself behind him.
(OOC - Hardwick is now in the tavern. I won't be around for 8-12 hours but people can feel free to react/interact to him accordingly.)
