THE MIND SLAYER

[legionnpcs]

Who| Plot Participants
What| Psychic Assassins!
Where| On Legion World
When|
Warnings/Notes| N/A


THE MIND SLAYER

She's been setting this up for weeks now. It's almost too easy with how trusting these Legion fools can be. If they'd only taken her seriously, if they hadn't laughed at her then... Well, things would be different. Now they'd welcome her with open arms. After she killed a few of them, of course.

This has to be done up close. She'd taken a job as a waitress in the mess halls. The older Legion, the ones who'd been at her tryout, didn't even recognize her. They deserved this more than their replacements. She almost feels sorry for them. But, no, she had to move before Saturn Queen went to trial in a few days. Meta, Esper, she's Esper now, can't risk any more time. If it's to be done, it has to be done now. She'd rather be further away, but her mental range isn't as long as she'd like. Tucked away into a dark corner of Legion World, she stood across from her costume. Heroes wore costumes, and she couldn't call herself that while doing this, but she could still draw strength from it.

She watches it, imagining how she'll look in it, and shivers. Nerves, she tells herself, glancing at the trigger device in her hands. "I'm sorry," Esper whispers. "But I deserve this." With the press of a button, the nanofactories kick into high gear and, for over a dozen Legionnaires, the lights go out. Whatever they're doing, their physical bodies instantly collapse and slump over, as if they're in a coma. Anyone coming too close, entering her psychic range, joins them.

They awaken almost instantly, finding themselves in a hellish amalgam. Parts of their worlds slammed together to make some twisted patchwork reality. And, like Oz himself, Esper's head appears above them, smiling with forced confidence. "You deserve to know what's happening, Legionnaires. My name is Esper! And you're locked into your own mindscapes. I've seeded you with teletechnology designed to tear your minds apart! It will be painless, mostly, but the weakest among you will fall to your own memories as my machines convince your subconscious that you shouldn't be alive." She drifts back a little, examining the group. "And, linked like this, if one of you falls, all of you die. Don't resist and make it more painful for yourselves. Just surrender and make it painless and easy for your friends. And don't try anything stupid. I'll be watching."

With that, she slides out, making sure her mindfield keeps people away from this section of Legion World, and that those who are still awake haven't noticed the heroes dropping like flies.

But she'll be back. And her machines have already set to work.

[[If you wish to have your characters discuss matters, set up your comments in the mingle post! Otherwise, make new toplevels for every mental scenario you'll work with.]]

Comments

[zippity]

Lena is physically uncomfortable, enough that when America speaks, she nearly jumps out of her skin and points both pistols in her direction. When she recognizes the familiar face, she still doesn't lower them -- after all, she hadn't forgotten the last time she'd been forced into a mental-scape with allies. Allies became enemies. And in front of her was a Widowmaker being indoctrinated into Talon.

She hasn't a clue what to think or how to react. Amélie's scream yanks her attention back, turning Lena at least one shade paler than she had been. It wasn't that she hadn't seen horrible things before -- Null Sector had decimated King's Row, killed hundreds of people as all rogue Omnics did. But--

The yelling, the restraints, the needles, all of it combined causes her to stiffen up so tightly that her hands begin to shake.

"We've got to do something," Lena replies quietly, looking back to America for ideas. Even if it was just a memory, even if it wasn't real -- what if it had lasting repercussions?

[thedreamisdead]

America gives the pistols a dull look, not that it can be seen through her visor, then focuses on Tracer. "If you're planning on shooting me, I certainly hope you'll wait until after the-" And then the screaming starts. Her head snaps towards the action and she bristles for a moment, just a moment, before forcing herself to relax.

This isn't something she can change. There's no citizen to rescue. As much as the Legion liked to pound the 'jurisdiction' nonsense at her, there really wasn't anything to do this time. How could you change someone's past?

She reaches up, places a hand on Lena's shoulder. Gives it a squeeze. Focus. If this were home, the scientists already be dead or under arrest. But this already happened. Maybe not this badly, if she'd understood Esper. But still, it had happened. "Say we rescue her. What then?" She glances back at Amélie, eyebrows bunching. What are they doing? She wants to know. But who knew if they were on a time limit? "Whatever they've done to her has already happened. The first time I really spoke to you, you were acting as if she was your worst enemy. What will happen if she suddenly remembers you rushing in when she's at her weakest, rescuing her and pulling her to safety, and then the rest of her life is spent following her normal history?"

To America, it sounded like a recipe for a host of mental issues.

[zippity]

"But what if that's what we're supposed to do?" Lena bites back, eventually wriggling out from under America's hand more out of stubbornness than actual anger. Her stomach churns the more she watches Amélie squirm and scream -- for a moment, its almost like she doesn't hear America, eyes instead glancing for alternate routes she could take to put a stop to whatever was going on without forcing her removal.

Frankly, she doesn't care what Widowmaker remembers or doesn't remember -- maybe it would change her for the better. It couldn't possibly make things worse, that's something she's certain of. She didn't have knowledge of what made her into what she was, but she didn't need it to know that it was probably irreversible.

She doesn't know America well enough to know whether or not that would matter to her, nor does she know her well enough to spend time explaining the intricacies of her moral code.

"Are you gonna help me or not?" she says, while still searching the ceiling, the walls, and the exits she can see. "You don't have to -- but at least let me know what I'm workin' with, yeah?"