legionworld | THE MIND SLAYER

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.]]

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Dead. York is dead.

It's a memory, he reminds himself, not even one that holds any truth to it. These are scenarios meant to break them. Still, from the way the room seems to tilt and fracture? It may yet succeed. His search for the devices may need to wait.

Delta himself still seems as composed as ever. But given what he remembers of Silent Horizon? That doesn't mean much.

Who died? Who did he fail? Who else have they lost simply because he wasn't capable- he should be, he is, he's a genius this isn't-

It isn't fair-

'Agent Texas.'

The whole room shifts, broken, breaking, he's already broken, he's already a fragment, it's a lie he knows (knew, will know) it isn't true but this is-

Is-

In a voice that is and isn't his, Delta sobs, hands falling from the console he'd been manipulating in this space. God- oh god No!

Allison Allison Allison Allison Allison Allison ALLISON ALLISON-

Danger. That is what that name means, it means they are all in danger and Delta is on the brink of breaking? No, fragmenting--

And he moves, tries to grasp him by the shoulder. Strange to have him this size, here in front of him, and yet not at all. Despite his size and composition, Delta has never been less than a person as long as he's known him.

"Delta."

failed he failed they failed he can't-

Not again not ever they can't lose her (lost her, they've lost her, years ago they lost her and he tries to steady himself with the future knowing of that but it's both of them all of them every time he can't he can't he can't-

Hands on his shoulders and the world doesn't right itself, still breaking, fracturing under their feet- but it does go still. He goes still, helmet tipping up to meet an unfamiliar armor set. Who-?

There's no time for explanation or introductions. Delta is not in a place to care about those details. Locus has only one lifeline to give him, and he wastes no time in extending it.

"York lives."

And Delta is logic embodied. He thrives, as Taylor does, on patterns. If this, then that. If the voice is telling the truth, then York is dead, and by consequence so is Agent Texas. If York is alive...

The voice is lying. And Texas's fate has not yet been clarified. Variable, not constant. Not determined. Not yet.

He doesn't belong here. Delta doesn't know anything about the world beyond these four digital walls, he hasn't been around long enough for there to be anything else-

But something in the voice rings true. Familiar. Distantly so- the armor shifts, settles, his hands coming up to grasp at Locus' arms to steady himself against the downward spiral of grief. If York Lives-

How do you know?

There he is. Scrambling for the truth even as this memory tries to twist it out of his grasp, turn it into something toxic and dangerous to him. The noise he'd made, the way he'd damn near wept...

Esper had no right to toy with him like this. Locus's eyes narrow behind his visor.

"He asked that I look after you if something should happen to him. I would know if it had."

Even if those ties broke, Delta would not be alone. He would make certain of it.

How-

It doesn't make sense for this time, this place- except he'd never truly been here himself. It's an echo of a memory, a nightmare in so much that he is able to have them. Fragments from a fragment. Shards of something that was done to make him but it still-

There'd been a talk, an agreement, and that. That makes this armor familiar.

Then Agent Texas- Allison-

"Is being dangled over your head to hurt you. To break you."

Perhaps a kinder thing to say than admitting she was gone, long gone. Every trace of her, every shadow and fragment erased and scattered to the winds. It is not what he needs to hear right now.

Locus has come a long way, in regards to comforting his friends.

"This is how it was done, but I have no wish to see it continue. As I suspect you do not wish to continue to endure it. Know this for what it is. Know that I speak the truth."

Safe. She needs to be safe. She needs to be alive but if that isn't her. If this isn't real-

His hands tighten around Locus' arms and though he has no need to breathe, there's a shuddering gasp that tears through him. Alive. Alive and well- or at least not dead like this. Because he failed her. Because he's not enough, he's not ever enough...

But this isn't. Who are you?

"Locus."

And his gaze moves, shifts over the fragmenting surroundings. The sooner the devices are destroyed, the sooner Delta will be free from this.

Beyond one of the cracked walls- next to the prone body of York on the screen? Is one of those glimmering machines. Too solid, too real to truly fit in this digital representation. Delta's breath gradually evens- but the fractures are still present.

THE MIND SLAYER

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