View source for 5299/A Beacon - Of DARKNESS

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2017/06/08
|Location=Remnant <REM>
|Synopsis=Reaper and Nicky have a chat. This is part of the larger 'visiting Beacon' RP.
|Cast of Characters=1115, 968
|pretty=yes
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{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:'''<br>With the tour groups breaking into their own little cliches while Yang talks on, showing off Beacon Academy, the Lord of Edge drifts back with his own like-minded. That is to say, himself. Letting Sombra work and Kord do his own socializing while Reaper's mask turns. Listening to a silent conversation in the comms, his arms once more crossing over his chest. Of course, that means a certain plushie-powered mutant arguing with him is going to have to drop back as well. A low, growling snarl ripples from his throat as he speaks now.<br><br>"Don't tempt me." He states. And the reality is, he doesn't seem able to speak without growling or snarling in some form or fashion, that dark reverberation of his voice a constant. His cowled head turning to regard Nicky completely, his attention utterly devoted for the moment. It's not a great thing, the wisps of smoke curling from the edge of his form as if he were just a very, very powerful mirage. "If you're so .. impassioned.. " He begins, the word snapped like it was a hateful thing. ".. Why aren't you doing something about it? Mortals die all the time; Consider it survival of the fittest if you kill those that are trying to kill you and yours."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:'''<br>"Don't tept you to do what? Start a genocide to slay all those you think are unworthy? What do you count as 'worthy' anyway?!" The young mutant replies, the hand in her pocket a fist, her face showing her anger.<br><br>"Survival of the fittest? You mean the best armed, don't you? Because nothing of using robots searching for a genetic marker and then blasting those with it until they are charred corpses is speaking of fitness."<br><br>Stepping up to the larger man, she points to the floor, anger in the eyes. "Come on, crack the planet's core just cause you can. Kill us all. What could I do to stop you? Nothing! Why? Not because I can't try, but 'cause I am not a fragging fighter that can stop planetblasting. And because there would be nothing for me to gain in stopping you. Fighting for others is for others. I fight for myself, I survive, I don't care if you go out and find a way to start over and reset the whole multiverse - I fight for my own survival."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:'''<br>"If life is such a burden - allow me to relieve you of it."<br><br>Growls the cowled man, in a low voice. His clawed hand twitches, and reaches down to his hips; This isn't a fast motion, though it'll doubtless make people nervous. He slowly pulls upwards, shadowy smoke thickening as if he were drawing a massive shotgun from an invisible holster. This weapon pointed -up-, for the moment, his elbow crooked. Before he flicks his wrist, catching the hellfire shotgun by the muzzle - and proffering the angled combat grip for Nicky's silent rage.<br><br>"Quit being helpless. You've got fingers and a mind - find a way to do it. Someone is pointing your -murder machines-... Or stay the hell out of the way of those who do find a way. Your pain earns you nothing but lessons; It's your job to learn them."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:'''<br>Nicky eyes the shotgun, the eyes still glaring, then returning to the mask, the hands still in the pockets. "Oh, I got fingers and a mind. And they're working nicely."<br><br>Some second passes, in which she just does the staredown game with Reaper, then she backs away just enough to enlarge the space between the two to a bit above an arm's reach, pulling the hand out of the pocket, the fist opening in hid air, and grabbing for the gun - not for the grip or buttstock, but for the barrel just after it. With a smooth motion hinting some training with hunting rifles, she partially recocks the semiauto, peering into the chamber.<br><br>"What are you expecting from me? Blasting off your mask? Ending a random pupil here to show you I can fight or what? I fight my my own damned terms!" She replies, only to proptly turn into black mist with a light plopp, the gun vanishing together with her form...<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:'''<br>"You have an enemy. "<br><br> Begins the master of edge and drama, the clawed gauntlets holding steady as the hellfire shotgun is breached. Four very, very fat shells sit in the handle rack, all of them cherry red - and hazy, wisps of smoke rising from them. Violence given form. Reaper's voice darkening slightly, to a lower growl. <br>"And I've given you a gun. If you can't figure out what to do from that, then whatever I expect was too much." and then she disappears into a tiny black cloud with his gun. Not that he minds; It'll be back. It always comes back, just the way it was when he awoke from the grave. Just like he did. <br> <br>

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:'''<br>The black mist cloud starts to draw together, shrinking and then condensing from the ground up in the shape of a black dragon like one would expect it to roam the the swamps of the forgotten realms, the wing membranes of bright red color. A young one, because it is no larger than 6 feet from head to tailtip. And on the second glance, a rather soft and rounded one, staring at Reaper with white plastic eyes, off white teeth showing a huge grin. And all that is just made from fabric and stuffing. The long neck turns, swaying left and right once, the wings stretch, showing off the 'majesty' of the (plushie) draconic shape Nick took.<br><br>With an eerie silence, the draconic toy lunges forward, towards Reaper's lower body, but dissipating into black mist again before impacting, passing around the armor clad leg.<br><br>Just after the leg, the cloud starts to pull together again, condensing back into her human shape, but sliding over the polished floor on the back, the shotgun in the hand that held it before, in the same state of ammo inspection as it had vanished with her. "I have an enemy? You can't count." She retorts, tossing the gun up, as she pushes herself off the ground to get back to her feet.<br><br>"I got a whole world that hates me for being able to shift like that." She catches the gun, closing the brace and swings it around her hand once, offering it back in the same manner it was handed to her. "But that's no reason for me to go and blast off all the damned purifiers heads. Wouldn't make me an inch better than them. Would make me just the same genocidal asshat they are. Want to go out and purge the universe? Find the means yourself, but don't count on reaping the applouse of me."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:'''<br>Well, that was unexpected. The sterile bone white mask tilts down as what was a girl becomes a .. plush.. dragon.. toy. A low growl starts in his throat, and the words are pulled from him like teeth. "You've -got- to be kidding me." And then she lunges forward to his armored shin; But even as she mists around him, he -is- mist. Black, wafting smoke of what was his body, almost by instinct. It doesn't mean much as neither collide, but when he snaps back into 'solid' shape he's facing the other way. Where she slid too. He then places one fist into the palm of his hand, slowly squeezing - knuckles crack, one by one.<br><br>"Your enemy? No. I am the Angel of Death; Your inevitability. But not today."<br><br>His mask turns further down towards that proffered gun, grabbing hold of the hilt just long enough for her to release it - then letting it drop, clattering to the ground. Where it begins the slow process of evaporating, black smoke whispering out of it. "It seems a perfectly good reason to kill these.. 'purifiers'. Genetic superiority, you say?" A slow, dark chuckle. "I've always wondered about people who say 'an idea can't die'. Put a bullet into every skull that holds that idea, and watch it -wither-... Go back to hiding, 'Survivor', a fugitive from your own home."<br>Arms cross once more, the mask turned aside. Attention drifting. "Or learn to do something about it."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:'''<br>"I don't kid you. It's what I can do, and it helps me with what I do. I may be an exile for now, but I don't shed a tear for that place. I can't stop the reaper, I can't stop a world." Nicky replies, shaking the head. "And I am not going to wade through an ocean of blood to try to erase fear of myself and those like me and just spreading it by the very same action."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:1115|Reaper (1115)}} has posed:'''<br>"Your ability..." Begins Reaper, his mask turning once more towards Nicky, the word practically spat, ".. is not what's holding you back. "<br><br>A clawed hand turns up, flexing slowly. "This world has far less.. and they do far more. But if you won't take arms against your killer, then do not complain when your blood lay cooling upon the ground. " And a brief pause, before a snide, reverberating chuckle. <br>"But at least you'll feel all warm and cozy inside, knowing you made a 'good' choice as you die..." Here, his voice flattens, briefly dropping the snark and snarl, "..Instead of living with the necessary choice."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:968|Nicky (968)}} has posed:'''<br>"Maybe one day I will have to make that choice... but today is not the day of judgement. Today is just another day." Nicky replies, shaking the head. "Just another day. And just so you know, being stuffed actually feels pretty room temperature inside."<br> <br>
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