Post by METTLE on Apr 3, 2022 23:40:22 GMT
"Hnn."
Legion hadn't so much as blinked when told his family had been attacked and killed.
So. He really is that far gone.
Oni Girl had astutely called him out for the non-killing rule by which his organization operated, but that wouldn't be enough to deconfirm it. These were special circumstances, after all. When it was effectively kill or be killed, the rules tended to go out the window. So whether or not Legion believed her was immaterial. He'd clearly been unfazed by it. All the more reason to destroy him here and now. The question had become how. Was this truly a figure who could fight endlessly?
He doubted it. There were no such people. As a boy, he had fought without fear. As a man, he was relentlessly uncompromising in the same way; there was no foe he couldn't somehow overcome, whether it was by force or diplomacy.
Legion vanished.
The density of the air on the rooftop had measurably increased. If he were still a novice he'd have attributed it to adrenaline. His senses, however, were so refined that he could feel the pressure change, the waves of distortion that came with each hyper-speed movement settling back into a decidedly heavier arrangement. Seeking the source of the disturbance, he let an eye tilt upward. It locked on the orange cube and the figure what stood within, marking her out as one he had glimpsed aboard the Empyrean. She was the source of this change, and she had a subtle gravitational pull, her presence thus far unanswered for - joined by another figure that he did not recognize.
Like Olympians in the Iliad, they were picking sides. That was something.
(He had read the Iliad and many other books in the last little while, ever since he'd begun remaining metal all the time).
An intrusive thought thundered through him.
Air displacement -
The space behind him opened and Legion re-emerged, this time slamming a thousand fists into one point on his back. It was a right, too, one that came from his unprotected side - the side where he had no arm.
CLANG.
He stumbled forward, sparks cast across the rooftop, no air escaping his parted lips; once he might've gasped, in pain or in surprise, but now he just caught himself, straightening his back as he waited for another volley; Daystar was on him, faster than thought.
He said nothing. There wasn't anything to add as she sang his praises. At the back of his mind he wondered if this was a fight they could win psychologically as opposed to physically. This was someone that would be challenging to beat to death.
Maybe if I actually did have any hired psychics...
Somehow he doubted Dr. Holt would be up to the task.
Daystar and Oni-Girl were on Legion. Mettle returned his attention to the little orange box.
Kicking off of the roof, he jumped up to the platform, landing on his bare silver feet while the war raged on below.
He tilted his head back a bit. His silver eyes had no pupils to speak of, in contrast to the creature's mismatched pair. He smiled.
"Hello. Who are you?"
Legion hadn't so much as blinked when told his family had been attacked and killed.
So. He really is that far gone.
Oni Girl had astutely called him out for the non-killing rule by which his organization operated, but that wouldn't be enough to deconfirm it. These were special circumstances, after all. When it was effectively kill or be killed, the rules tended to go out the window. So whether or not Legion believed her was immaterial. He'd clearly been unfazed by it. All the more reason to destroy him here and now. The question had become how. Was this truly a figure who could fight endlessly?
He doubted it. There were no such people. As a boy, he had fought without fear. As a man, he was relentlessly uncompromising in the same way; there was no foe he couldn't somehow overcome, whether it was by force or diplomacy.
Legion vanished.
The density of the air on the rooftop had measurably increased. If he were still a novice he'd have attributed it to adrenaline. His senses, however, were so refined that he could feel the pressure change, the waves of distortion that came with each hyper-speed movement settling back into a decidedly heavier arrangement. Seeking the source of the disturbance, he let an eye tilt upward. It locked on the orange cube and the figure what stood within, marking her out as one he had glimpsed aboard the Empyrean. She was the source of this change, and she had a subtle gravitational pull, her presence thus far unanswered for - joined by another figure that he did not recognize.
Like Olympians in the Iliad, they were picking sides. That was something.
(He had read the Iliad and many other books in the last little while, ever since he'd begun remaining metal all the time).
An intrusive thought thundered through him.
Air displacement -
The space behind him opened and Legion re-emerged, this time slamming a thousand fists into one point on his back. It was a right, too, one that came from his unprotected side - the side where he had no arm.
CLANG.
He stumbled forward, sparks cast across the rooftop, no air escaping his parted lips; once he might've gasped, in pain or in surprise, but now he just caught himself, straightening his back as he waited for another volley; Daystar was on him, faster than thought.
He said nothing. There wasn't anything to add as she sang his praises. At the back of his mind he wondered if this was a fight they could win psychologically as opposed to physically. This was someone that would be challenging to beat to death.
Maybe if I actually did have any hired psychics...
Somehow he doubted Dr. Holt would be up to the task.
Daystar and Oni-Girl were on Legion. Mettle returned his attention to the little orange box.
Kicking off of the roof, he jumped up to the platform, landing on his bare silver feet while the war raged on below.
He tilted his head back a bit. His silver eyes had no pupils to speak of, in contrast to the creature's mismatched pair. He smiled.
"Hello. Who are you?"
