Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
Connor stood looking at the warehouse, the rest of his Unit no doubt preparing to breach it at that moment. The little cult was no doubt aware that they were there, he certainly hadn't tried to hide his approach. But the mortal component did not matter, it was the demon. The former cult leader who had summoned it had bitten off more than they could have chewed, and was subsequently eaten. Not in the physical sense, it was never that straight forward, but they were a puppet now. The one in command was that demon. They still weren't completely sure what kind of demon it was, but it had certainly covered it's tracks well. Based off of that, Connor had to guess it was an Obscura class of some grade.
Clearing his throat, he shouts at the closed up warehouse. "This is officer Connor McKinley of the Summoning Unit. For those willing to listen, surrender now. We don't want you, we just want your boss. Any resistance will be swiftly put down. You have until the first shot." And with that, he lowered his head to his shoulder, and clicked the radio.
"Keep the mess to a minimum. I don't want much paperwork. Drinks for whoever Condemns the target. After the paperwork."
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The cultists were not much to look at. Dirty, disheveled, and wearing mismatched clothing as they were it was a wonder they had even managed to gain the attention of a demon even remotely strong enough to be causing problems. But there was one thing that made them stand out, the fervent light of devoted fanaticism. Perhaps the demon had sensed that and chose to take command, blind devotion could get many far if they knew how to use it.
Clutching their makeshift weapons, mostly crudely made weapons such as barb wire baseball bats with only a smattering of handguns, they waited for the inevitable.
Clearing his throat, he shouts at the closed up warehouse. "This is officer Connor McKinley of the Summoning Unit. For those willing to listen, surrender now. We don't want you, we just want your boss. Any resistance will be swiftly put down. You have until the first shot." And with that, he lowered his head to his shoulder, and clicked the radio.
"Keep the mess to a minimum. I don't want much paperwork. Drinks for whoever Condemns the target. After the paperwork."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The cultists were not much to look at. Dirty, disheveled, and wearing mismatched clothing as they were it was a wonder they had even managed to gain the attention of a demon even remotely strong enough to be causing problems. But there was one thing that made them stand out, the fervent light of devoted fanaticism. Perhaps the demon had sensed that and chose to take command, blind devotion could get many far if they knew how to use it.
Clutching their makeshift weapons, mostly crudely made weapons such as barb wire baseball bats with only a smattering of handguns, they waited for the inevitable.