un muerto en vida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fantasmaniac) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2016-09-08 01:44 am
fantasmaniac) wrote in legionworld2016-09-08 01:44 am
Entry tags:
pick my brain all you want
Who| Reaper & Co. [ That means YOU♥ -- OPEN ]
What| Introduction to Legion World. Decked out in his edgelord gear, he goes for a walk.
Where| Ghosting around, locations will be noted.
When| Roughly after TTHS?
Warnings/Notes| None in particular
[ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ – ɴᴏ ᴘᴄ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]
They almost seemed a little worried about how calmly he took to being explained everything that's been happening, a look almost like pity or genuine concern, and he couldn't understand why. His first train of thought was 'this is a dream, isn't it?', until he remembered that he doesn't really dream anymore. It's just blurry images and smoke, and he's pretty sure he doesn't sleep.
Which then brought him to question the bits and pieces of what happened before he blacked out. Suffocating, then feeling his skin burn more, alongside the ever-present crackle of decay that he always feels. He's just glad that wasn't the killing blow, because damn, choking to death sucks. What a way to go. More importantly, it's not the method that bothers him but the circumstances surrounding it. He's a busy guy, he had shit to accomplish before he disappeared from existence entirely. Hell to raise. People to torture. All that fun stuff. Like hell he was going to cease to exist permanently before he did any of that.
So it's almost a relief. Hah.
He barely spoke, only replied in short, almost curt, answers as he understood perfectly. His recovery time was relatively quick, so by the time the portly fellow barged into his room, he was well aware of the situation. That's not to say he believed it (this could easily be mind tricks, an illusion, something involving a virtual simulator), at least not until he could prove he wasn't being tricked. So when the offer was made, he didn't exactly reply. Chalking it up to confusion and perhaps a needing a little time to adjust, they gave him the option of coming back to the decision later, and they left him alone after running a routine scan to make sure he was fit to leave the facility.
He didn't notice it while they were talking, but his mask was sitting by him on the table the whole time.
▶▶▶
[ ʜᴀʙɪᴛᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴄᴋ ]
A. Watchpoint: Gibraltar
If he didn't think he was being tricked before, this sure convinces him he is being tricked now more than ever. Watchpoint: Gibraltar is a very distinct landmark, and how it's just oddly placed alongside other foreign structures make this all the more confusing. What's the point of all this? Why is this landmark here, placed like this?
He reaches out to touch the side of the wall as if testing to see if it's real, clawed fingers clacking audibly against it.
B. The Temple of Anubis
The Temple of Anubis also stands alone on its own, like someone just laser-cut around the area, lifted it up, and placed it down onto this plot of land. It's jarring. Suspicious. He has nothing to work with though, only able to continue along with presuming this is all just some elaborate plot to get into his head.
The more he wanders around, flitting through the darkest shadows and corridors of the temple, the more real it all feels. It's unsettling. He entertains the thought of this all being real– but if it is, the coincidence of being brought to some place (another universe?) that reminds him too much of Overwatch is almost a little too ridiculous to consider.
What| Introduction to Legion World. Decked out in his edgelord gear, he goes for a walk.
Where| Ghosting around, locations will be noted.
When| Roughly after TTHS?
Warnings/Notes| None in particular
[ ɪɴᴛʀᴏ – ɴᴏ ᴘᴄ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ]
They almost seemed a little worried about how calmly he took to being explained everything that's been happening, a look almost like pity or genuine concern, and he couldn't understand why. His first train of thought was 'this is a dream, isn't it?', until he remembered that he doesn't really dream anymore. It's just blurry images and smoke, and he's pretty sure he doesn't sleep.
Which then brought him to question the bits and pieces of what happened before he blacked out. Suffocating, then feeling his skin burn more, alongside the ever-present crackle of decay that he always feels. He's just glad that wasn't the killing blow, because damn, choking to death sucks. What a way to go. More importantly, it's not the method that bothers him but the circumstances surrounding it. He's a busy guy, he had shit to accomplish before he disappeared from existence entirely. Hell to raise. People to torture. All that fun stuff. Like hell he was going to cease to exist permanently before he did any of that.
So it's almost a relief. Hah.
He barely spoke, only replied in short, almost curt, answers as he understood perfectly. His recovery time was relatively quick, so by the time the portly fellow barged into his room, he was well aware of the situation. That's not to say he believed it (this could easily be mind tricks, an illusion, something involving a virtual simulator), at least not until he could prove he wasn't being tricked. So when the offer was made, he didn't exactly reply. Chalking it up to confusion and perhaps a needing a little time to adjust, they gave him the option of coming back to the decision later, and they left him alone after running a routine scan to make sure he was fit to leave the facility.
He didn't notice it while they were talking, but his mask was sitting by him on the table the whole time.
▶▶▶
[ ʜᴀʙɪᴛᴀᴛ ᴅᴇᴄᴋ ]
A. Watchpoint: Gibraltar
If he didn't think he was being tricked before, this sure convinces him he is being tricked now more than ever. Watchpoint: Gibraltar is a very distinct landmark, and how it's just oddly placed alongside other foreign structures make this all the more confusing. What's the point of all this? Why is this landmark here, placed like this?
He reaches out to touch the side of the wall as if testing to see if it's real, clawed fingers clacking audibly against it.
B. The Temple of Anubis
The Temple of Anubis also stands alone on its own, like someone just laser-cut around the area, lifted it up, and placed it down onto this plot of land. It's jarring. Suspicious. He has nothing to work with though, only able to continue along with presuming this is all just some elaborate plot to get into his head.
The more he wanders around, flitting through the darkest shadows and corridors of the temple, the more real it all feels. It's unsettling. He entertains the thought of this all being real– but if it is, the coincidence of being brought to some place (another universe?) that reminds him too much of Overwatch is almost a little too ridiculous to consider.
no subject
Which is about when a vase comes flying from right the fuck out of nowhere and shatters against the wall a few feet away from him. He nearly jumps out of his skin and whips around, searching for the source of the vase. Judging from the trajectory, the source is in the general vicinity of where the ping dropped off his trackers. Of course.
There are several smart ways to approach this situation, and several exceedingly stupid ways. In a moment of pique, Wash picks one of the latter. "This isn't a fucking horror movie!"
no subject
It's also probably why he's not showing up on the tracker anymore, either.
Reaper doesn't even have to try so hard with this guy, as he just outs himself by yelling out into the open. All he does is quietly teleport himself behind the guy a couple feet away using his Shadow Step, and aim his shotgun straight at the back of the guy's head.
"Boo."
no subject
Hearing a gun click is a menacing noise for a reason, and for a moment Wash doesn't move. Well, shit. Okay, whoever's got the drop on him can bypass motion trackers - stealth tech or teleportation, probably - is armed, and isn't looking to kill him just yet - otherwise, this guy would've shot him already and been done with it. He's got a gun and a shitty sense of humor, and right now this is a game; the second Wash treats it seriously, it'll become serious, and he's not about to win a firefight from this position.
So he'll pull a Grif, and treat it like a fucking joke.
"You have got to be kidding me," he starts. "That was the worst buildup ever. Of all time. You barely did anything. 'Okay, I'll make a creepy noise, and then I'll throw pottery, and then I'll teleport! That checks all the boxes, right?' No, you have to actually try if you want a good movie - otherwise, you wind up with some paint-by-numbers low-budget sequel bullshit, and before you know it you've made the Saw franchise. Now, do you want to go back there and try it again with some actual effort this time?"
no subject
"Glad you got that off your chest, pendejo," he mutters, claw still sitting on the trigger. Is this even worth wasting a bullet over? He doesn't exactly have any extra ammo on him since he's usually materializing them out of thin air. He'll stall for a bit- look for weak points on the armor that this guy is wearing. It's unfamiliar, but all armor types have similar weak-points, he figures.
"Who's to say this isn't a movie already?"
Maybe he can draw some world information from him too while he's at it.
no subject
no subject
“Then let’s see it.”
And with a jab of his shotgun, he drives it roughly into the back of his shoulder as if motioning for him to go or turn around.
no subject
Wash twists with the momentum of the shove, snapping a forearm up to knock the gun out of the way and bringing the followthrough up and over, with the end goal of catching this guy's wrist between Wash's arm and ribs. It's a rudimentary hold, but he's counting on a split second element of surprise to make it work.
He continues to turn, glances at the guy's face - he's wearing a mask, aim lower- and aims a palm heel strike with his free hand at the guy's throat, using the momentum of the turn to put some force into it. If the hold works, then the strike could possibly crush this guy's windpipe.
He wants Wash to do better; Wash will damn well do better.
no subject
He chokes at the force against his neck and he's grabbing at the wrist, clawed tips of his gauntlet digging into whatever he can. He has enhanced strength, but he's not strong enough to rip straight through an arm.
His head tipped back, he starts to wheeze noisily, like sandpaper rubbing against each other. With an A+ performance, he struggles like he's choking (which, technically, he is), and in an instant, he dissolves into a vicious black mist. His form still remains standing in front of Wash, angry wisps of black cloud fluttering around him as he just lets the hand go straight through his throat.
He laughs, the sound a little raspier than usual as his throat recovers.
"Still think you can do better?"
All disarming done with permission, etc etc
The claws tear into his undersuit and his wrist, but he's not exactly worried - it's a surface wound, and he has bigger issues to focus on.
Like the fact that Ghostface Lite here can evidently dissolve into a sentient cloud. Well, that explains why the motion trackers didn't pick him up. Wash jerks back in surprise, putting a couple feet between himself and The Fog, and allows himself a moment to just stare when it doesn't look like the cloud's moving.
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the smoky arm still outstretched and, implausibly, holding a very solid gun. Huh. But his hand had gone right through the guy...this doesn't seem physically possible.
He looks at the guy.
He looks at the gun.
Then, very deliberately, he reaches out, wraps his hand around the barrel of the gun, and gives it a firm yank. The gun parts easily from the cloud. Okay then.
He takes another step back, waves the gun a bit - oh, excuse me, is this yours, well it's mine now - and maglocks it to his thigh, looking at The Mist and tilting his helmet with disdain. "You're not exactly making it difficult."
no subject
He doesn't expect Wash to just reach for his gun like that. Hell, nobody else would've done it, not even the people that knew him best. They would've assumed that the gun would also be untouchable, like always.
But this guy. This guy...
"What?!"
He snarls, jerking back and looking down at his empty hand.
"How...?"
This is bad. He can stay in this form to avoid being shot by his own gun, but he can't do anything to attack while in this form either. Seeing his precious Hellfire gun strapped to some smartass's thigh makes the smoke shoot out like a roaring flame, and he solidifies quickly to lunge at him. He still has one gun left, but now that it's painfully obvious at how easily they can be taken from him, he leaves it strapped to his person.
He reaches for him, using all of his speed to throw a punch that could shatter through the visor of Wash's helmet if he doesn't move quickly enough.
no subject
Like he is right now, impossibly fucking fast-
But he's seen Carolina move with a speed unit, and while Stormcloud over here is inhumanly fast, it's not super speed. Wash dodges out of the way of the blow, swinging his baton up for a strike. He'd rather use his knife at this point, but hey, Legion rules.
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Once there's an opening, he reaches forward, aiming to tear the mask off the guy's face, or at least knock it askew.
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He growls lowly, still in mid-swing when his vision is disrupted by Wash clipping the chin of the mask.
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Stunned, he crashes to the ground. He won't be down for long, but the stun is strong enough to ground him for a few minutes. There's the upside to being genetically enhanced even before the whole Reaper experiment.
no subject
There's a moment where Wash starts to reach for his knife, but- no. Legion rules. Fuck.
He could hit him again. He could steal his other gun. He could do any number of things. The only option not on the table was waiting around for Ghostface Lite to wake up. The longer this fight goes on, the less likely Wash is to win it, and that's not a situation he needs to be in.
He backs up and, after a few moments, turns and walks away. He does not want to be here when not!Ghostface comes to and realizes his precious gun is still missing.