Post by Scramjet on Nov 17, 2021 22:26:38 GMT
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Scramjet forced himself to come to a stop moments after the follow-through, the air-shield built around his front dispersing with a thundercrack of arrested momentum. He stopped not unlike a fishtailed car would, feet skidding along the pavement as he dropped low and dug a hand into the disheveled pavement to brake himself faster. His foot caught a particularly large hunk of debris and he subsequently tripped, finally coming to a complete stop against the side of a car with enough force to rock the chassis and leave a slight dent in the metal. His suit tensed from the impact, frame locking up around the upper back and neck to prevent whiplash-- a concept he was well aware of after repeated concussions and many weeks of a sore neck. What he hadn't been prepared for was the thing that'd made him stop in the first place-- the fact he had just killed somebody.His shock was reflected in the immediacy from which he recovered off of the car, breaking into what was otherwise a very tame sprint-- for him, at least-- towards Gawain. After realizing that the man was somehow still standing from having his lungs ripped out of his body, however, Scramjet came to a stop quicker than he once thought possible, hand raising up slightly in recoiled horror. He stopped a good 30 feet away, staring at what should have been a corpse. A regular person did not survive a double pneumonectomy. Then again, it was his fault for assuming anyone here was in any way approaching normalcy. Scramjet gave a glance down to his hand-- he couldn't have done that on his own, could he? He'd done it on Grymskull in training, and even then, the worst it'd caused was what he had intended to happen. A lack of air. At higher velocities and forces-- technically, but-- wait, did the guy just say something to him?
Rasmus looked back to Gawain, helmet tactically hiding his dumbfounded expression as the man without lungs somehow began to speak again. That's what this was-- a power play. Unnerve him, make him doubt his abilities. Some sort of psychological effect. Scramjet swallowed his surprise and assumed a defensive stance, pacing around the odd monk with a tilted head.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Yeah. Ditto."
It was all he could say, really. Rasmus had to give the guy props-- of all the potential counterplays, he certainly had not been expecting that. He hadn't killed the guy unintentionally, which was his main concern. Well-- had been his main concern, because that was quickly trumped by a shockwave of energy that blasted out from the doorway. He was altering its composition, somehow-- Rasmus tried to take in as much of the act as possible as he raised his hands and pulled a wall of air with him, creating a very thin vacuum layer through the air that caught any shockwaves that were bounding through the air towards him. That managed to dampen most of the oncoming damage, but he still felt himself pushed back-- and the tremors through the ground were in a medium he couldn't even hope to alter, so he went down to one knee, the air subtly warping as the protective wall clapped back into equilibrium. Great. Vomiting up lungs, making doorways out of nowhere, dinner invitations.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"I wish I had a Bingo card for you freaks."
He stated, tone maintaining the jocular inflection he kept on the job. Beneath it, though, was a very venomous and very pointed threat. His posture certainly implied the issue he took with his little request-- bring up my wife again, and I'll do a little more than make you hold your breath. Of course, judging from Gawain's vague referral to Sidar, he didn't know their connection. Not yet, at least, even though it was public that Basilica and Scramjet were married. A dynamic duo-- in more ways than one! That's what the some of the posters said, at least. Rasmus figured it'd get used against him one of these days, which was why he didn't let it visibly affect him. [attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"I'll have to decline, buddy. I'm a bit busy this week doing anything else."
And then, Gawain was gone. Scramjet thought about pursuing-- he really did-- but there was a part of him that suspected taking that guy on alone would be the quickest way to leave Sidar a widow. Awful way to leave the schoolkids, too-- he assigned a take-home quiz, yesterday. He'd have to go out on better terms than that.
So he held his tongue-- well, his legs, too-- but kept his guard up nonetheless, glancing over to Oni-Girl. She'd helped intercept a little of the big boom as he was moving, which was nice of her. A bit ironic, given she was tossing enough shockwaves to make a bomb technician sweat in their boots, but that was neither here nor there. The girl had helped. Who knows how he'd have fared in a solo bout against Gawain. He accepted her apology with a nod of his head and a strained breath, the fatigue of exertion catching up with him a little bit.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Help clear the ground zero and we'll call it even, yeah? I'm... unscathed, actually."
Not entirely true-- he'd bruise from the car, but superheroes didn't talk about that sort of stuff. Besides, he got lucky-- and like most things, luck was a commodity and finite.Small-talk was over.
[attr="style","display:inline;text-shadow:0px 0px 3px #b671c2;"]"Help wherever you can."
Hopefully, she had the judgement to know where she'd be useful. Scramjet moved through the wreckage of the base's entryway, alarms blaring throughout the facility as he searched for the other Jurors. They were fine, he was sure of it-- none of them would have made it this far if they weren't the best of the best. All he could do now was support the team in closing it out, if they hadn't already dealt with it themselves.