A lone Sinner walked through the alleys and back streets of Rome, having found his way there on his travels throughout the world, there was hardly a soul in sight but he couldn't help but feel that there was something watching him as he moved. IT was well known that the Quincy had long since claimed the area as their own, so perhaps there was a bow wielding assassin readying their strike to take him on. At least that's what the white wolf might have been thinking before a voice broke the silence.

"I'll warn you now, demon, one wrong move and I'll send you directly back to whatever pit you crawled out of" It was a cold greeting to be sure, but these were not the words of some foolhardy young quincy looking for glory. "Are we understood?" Should Geralt take a look he would find what seemed to be a man of the cloth a few paces behind him. An ornate cross hung from his neck, but otherwise there was nothing outstanding about him.

"Let us not waste time. I want to know what it is you are, and what business you might have in this city" The Inquisition was familiar with most threats when it came to the world of souls. Hollows, Shinigami and their corrupted visored had all been cataloged and filed away in the vast libaries of the Gilded City. But Sinners were much rarer. It wasn't often they managed to break out of hell, and with the recent attacks there was a need of information. The state that this creature would leave in was going to be determined by how useful it was going to be for his cause.

Geralt was strolling the streets of Rome, minding his god damn business. Why was he in Rome? For no particular reason at all. He just felt like it - so here he was. While he had never visited the city before, he was quite amazed to find out that there was no soul to be found in sight. Which was honestly quite hard to digest because normally a city like this was crawling with people, especially considering how Rome itself was a tourist hotspot. Nonetheless, the man would keep on walking, looking around and admiring the quaint architecture, until he would be interrupted.

"Demon? Come now. Is that how you treat tourists around these parts?" Geralt would utter, turning his head to the side, looking at the figure behind him from the corner of his eye. "No. I don't think 'we' are understood." Turning himself towards the stranger, the white wolf would gaze at the man, inspecting him. "How much for the cross?" Pointing his finger at the cross that the man wore on his neck, the white would ask, grinning like a maniac. "Have you come to perform an exorcism, father?"

"I'm a Demon. You said it yourself, remember?" Tilting his head a bit to the side, the man would utter, smirking. Apparently, the stranger also wanted to know what Geralt's business here in the city was, which in reaction the man would growl under his breath, only to speak, "aren't you an inquisitive one? My business here is of my own." The man's dark yellow hues would stare at the stranger for a few seconds only for Geralt to wave his hands about in the air to dissolve any of the tension that was built up. "My name is Geralt Barlog. As for why I'm here: I came to Rome because I felt like it." The man would speak bluntly as he took a step forward. "Who might you be? A priest?"

It seemed the sinner didn't immediately attack, though he seemed rather amused to have had his exploration interrupted. Clearly he wasn't aware of the danger he was in, though that was good, if it was required the High Inquisitor had little worry that he would have trouble in dispatching this man. The quincy stares at him in silence as he went through these antics, taking the time to take in exactly what it was he was currently talking to.

"If this were an exorcism there would have been no need to speak to you first. You can consider this an interrogation" He responded, deeming the question about his cross unworthy of answering. So far it seemed 'Geralt' was going to be holding back on violence, perhaps he didn't have a good enough read on this stranger to consider it. "I'm sure you're aware of a recent number of attacks on the human world. By creatures I can only assume are just like you" He began, no point in beating around the bush. "So if your business is to cause trouble you've chosen a poor location to do so. There will be consequences whether you understand them or not"

However, Viktor was nothing if not polite, and if this man was going to offer his name it was only right to return the offer in time. "I am High Inquisitor, Viktor Karamazov. So lets drop the nonsense. You are not a shinigami, quincy or a hollow. What are you." Straight forward and to the point, respectable if blunt. Time would tell if this approach was going to bring forth any answers or further snark from his target.

Who knew when Geralt decided to visit Rome that he would be interrogated by someone calling himself the 'High Inquisitor'. While the white wolf had no idea who this man was - nor did he care to know - Geralt, however, had the slightest curiosity in wanting to know who this fellow actually was. It's not every day you bump into a bozo who calls you a 'Demon'. It was truly something to behold.

"Attacks? What attacks? I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about." Geralt would utter, confused. Of course, he knew what the man was referring to, but decided it was best to act like he didn't know anything. At least for the time being. "Maybe come with some actual evidence rather than just 'assuming'. So many assume. Yet so little know."

The man was persistent; as he would continue to ask Geralt what he was. Sighing, Geralt would growl under his breath, "not only are you inquisitive but you are persistent as well." Geralt uttered, his tone a mixture of irritation and annoyance. "Fine. I'm what you call a sinner." Cocking his head to the side, he would spout, "you happy now, son?" Knowing what kind of man Viktor was, he most likely wasn't going to drop the subject of asking Geralt's race until he got a distinct response. "What a pain in the arse."

"What is a Russian doing in Rome, anyway? I didn't take your people to be religious. Though I take it there is more to it than meets the eye." Looking at the man dead in the eye, the white wolf would take two steps forward. "Are you by chance a Quincy?"

"Anyone can feign innocence, particularly someone who admits to belong to a race called 'Sinners'" Viktor responded swiftly, clearly he had little patients for these moralistic discussions "And if I required evidence for everything I did, nothing would get done at all. A hunch is a solid place to start, and I find that when I find a trail I am rarely wrong" He spoke with authority despite his age, while he was clearly sure of himself it wasn't entirely clear where this level of self worth was coming from.

"No, I'm not happy. Confirming I have a corrupted soul from hell standing before me, invading my territory with impunity" His tone had shifted slightly, some would consider it darker even. "So how you act from this point on will determine if you leave on your own terms or not" Geralt seemed to be acting as if the Inquisitor was some petulant child bugging him with questions, not the smarted position to take considering just who it was he was speaking to.

"A man of faith can be born anywhere in the world" He waved his hand to the side as the sinner stepped closer, perhaps thinking that if his foe was a quincy that he was best to close the distance. His own gaze turning up to meet the Sinner before him. Not a hint of apprehension, doubt or worry to be seen. The inquisitor watched the being for any signs of hostility. "Correct, I am indeed one of the Quincy."

The Quincy was demanding. As if he controlled the area -- so what if he did? The white wolf didn't give a shit. Geralt, well, he probably did. But, regardless, Geralt did not work for the Quincys, and as far as he was concerned: he didn't need to have permission from a man calling himself the 'high inquisitor' to walk around Rome. And the audacity he had to call the sinner 'impure'. The Quincy was really starting to get on the white wolf nerves. But Geralt knew that he had to compose himself, not letting his emotions get the better of him. But it was quite hard to compose himself when there was self-righteous twat in front of him masquerading himself like he was the pope or something.

Closing his eyes, Geralt would slowly exhale, only to open his eyes again. Cracking his neck to the right, then left, he would prompt two stone slabs to protrude from the ground behind himself and the Quincy, which in turn he would sit on. "What? I thought it would be a good idea to sit and converse." Shrugging his shoulders, he continued, "so, go on; take a seat." Regardless, if the man took a seat or not, the sinner would continue to speak, "okay. You're a Quincy; I get that. But what is this inquisitor that you speak about? Is it an organization that you happen to work for? And when did the church take interest in aligning themselves with people like you?" Geralt would bombard the man with multiple questions wanting to get to know more about him and the faction he worked for. If Viktor could be inquisitive and ask questions from the sinner; why he couldn't he do the same?

Viktor could tell that his words were beginning to bother the sinner, it was a test more than anything, perhaps they could be considered less hostile than originally thought. However there was always the chance that the others were less constrained in their nature. This one might well snap at any moment if he was pushed too far, but that would be dealt with if the need arose.

He glances back at the slabs created by the sinner, giving him some insight into the powers he might have. Though he would refuse the seat, preferring to stand as Geralt turned the questioning around. While this wasn't the intended purpose he had stopped the sinner for, perhaps humouring him could get him to open up more about his own secrets.

"I lead the Inquisition, we are a safeguard to this realm." He began, simple enough and while it wasn't the full scale of their duties it was more than enough for Geralt to get an idea of who it was he might be dealing with. "That is a long story, however, during a crisis for the Quincy race the Vatican provided shelter and we have repaid them by becoming their sword. As you well know, there are threats beyond this world that need to be kept in check"

Geralt would listen to the man carefully, taking it all in. Once the Quincy had said his piece, the sinner would ponder for a few seconds, to gather his thoughts before responding, "does it ever get tiring, though? Fighting for a cause?" Directing his dark yellow hues at the man, Geralt would ask in an inquisitive tone. Viktor was fighting for something noble which he genuinely believed in; Geralt respected that. But how long was he intending to fight for it? Few days? Weeks? Months, maybe? Or even for years? At the end of the day, did it even matter? "The problem with fighting for a cause is that the cause will ultimately kill you. Whether you like it or not."

Clenching his fist, the sinner would prompt yet another slab of stone, this time behind him. Leaning his back on it, Geralt would smile, raising his arms to the side, he would speak bluntly, "I don't believe in any causes nor do I believe in joining organizations. Why, you may ask? Because I'm not a schemer." Clicking his tongue, the sinner would place his right knee over his left leg, only to continue, "you see, what's wrong with this world, right? The world is filled with schemers who think that they can control the natural order of things -- just like you. You, schemers, are so contempt with your arrogance to a point you just do the same damn thing over and over and over again expecting things to change. Why? Because you think you can control or change the way of things." Geralt's spiritual pressure would flicker and in and out as he would add, "I don't know about you, but for me that is insane."

"Now, I'm sure you are wondering now what kind of person I am, yes? Well, I'm just a guy trying to show people like you how pathetic you are because, at the end of the day, you can't control chance or nature. At the end of the day, you all lose." The shinigamis have plans, the arrancars have plans, the quincys have plans, but Geralt? He had none. The white wolf basically had nothing to lose and it was best that way.

"Of course it gets tiring, but I didn't get where I am by simply throwing away my goals the moment things got difficult." It was an interesting question really, was this man attempting to glean information? Perhaps he was merely keeping up this conversation to slake his own boredom. "There is nothing wrong with that, death is just the final step on the path of life, and what is more worthy than dying for a cause"

The following nihilistic diatribe got tiring swiftly however, Of course the world was full of schemers, that was simply the nature of things. Humanity was but one player in the game, a woefully unprepared one at that. But it needed men like Viktor to keep everything turning. "If humanity subscribed to your way of thinking, I would think we never would have achieved all we have today. Change too is a part of life. Be it natural or fabricated, change is required to move forward. And like it or not, it requires people like me to steer it on wards to the future"

"Though what you're implying is that without a cause you ensure that you can't lose. But like it or not, you're in the race like the rest of us. Left behind at the starting line." The flickering spiritual pressure did intrigue the Quincy, as slight as it was. Perhaps this creature was stupid enough to try something sneaky, but the Inquisitor was ever aware, ready to bring about justice in moments.

The Quincy did not agree with him, nor did he try to understand where the sinner was coming from - which was just fine. Geralt did not expect the man to agree or understand him for the simple reason that the Quincy was a schemer himself. Honestly, it wouldn't be wrong to declare the man as one of the biggest schemers out there. Regardless of such, a few things in Viktors rebuttal did interest the sinner, and he planned on commenting on them.

"Requires people like you, huh?" The sinner spoke directing his dark yellow hues at the man only to stare at the fellow for a good few seconds before scoffing. "What makes you different from the rest? Is it your intelligence? experience? Or...is it that you think you're more powerful than the rest?" Shaking his head, Geralt would grab the axe that was affixed to his back only to place it in front of him while placing his forearm on the knob of the axe. "You're not powerful, boyo. Do you know why? You do what you do out of obligation, not out of hatred. You will never walk towards the future like that because the organization that you hold so dear and the participants in it are nothing but weights that will break your legs."

Turning his head to the side, the sinner spat to the sidewalk. "You're wrong again, boyo. How could I be left behind the starting line when no startling line exists?" Arching both of his eyebrows, Geralt would ask. While he did not expect the man to respond towards it he had to explain to Viktor why he thought he was wrong. But be that as it may, after uttering such, the sinner would raise a single finger. "Hold that thought for a second. What is that you told me earlier?" Snapping his fingers twice, Geralt would try to reminiscence what Viktor had told him earlier. "Ah, yes!" Clicking his tongue, he spoke, "you called me corrupted and impure." Grinning like a lunatic, he continued, "for there is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not. Ecclesiastes, chapter 7, verse 20." Pausing, he would add, "aren't we all sinners? Including you?" Geralt was not the type of person to believe in any higher power or read the bible for obvious reasons, of course. But the Quincys stark hypocrisy bothered him, especially since he considered himself a man of god.