Kai
Retired Staff
I'm just a step away
I'm just a breath away
Losing my faith today
Falling off the edge today
Skillet - Hero
The first notes of the evening chorus of Nepleslia Prime were playing. That brand of Nepleslian violence, crime and exploitation that always kicked up a series of screams, bumps, knocks and thumps; all in an unscripted rhythm that filled the dense evening air. You'd get used to it if you weren't in the middle of it. Tonight was playing a slightly different tune, though. This time, a maestro or two were conducting the orchestra.
On one side, there were cracking necks, stifled screams, splashes of blood, brass casings hitting the floor and lightning bolts to churn up a cacophony of violence. The rhythm to this beat was all over the place, chaotic, wild, out of tune. It ran like a madman's drum solo as bullets ripped through walls and floors and the air was stained with blood for a moment at a time. It was unmethodical, but crudely effective in its brutality. Indeed, while it was a sight to behold for its ugliness, even amongst Nepleslian standards - nobody could deny the impulsiveness, the boldness and brazen conduct of this maestro.
Elsewhere, the sounds of two things could be heard working in conjunction; The whistling sound of a metal cable snapping through the air, and the high-pitched whine of some sort of electronic device rapidly charging itself for action. These two sounds were generally followed by grunts, groans, or screams, as well as the sounds of things crashing and breaking - Furniture, walls, appliances - as well as the crumbling of weaker structures, such as a dropped ceiling's flimsy panels being torn out and tossed around, flopping to rest on the floor.
This second group of noises was greatly contrasted to the first, its pace measured, methodical, almost as if it were part of a well-composed song, or a choreographed dance. Indeed, the footfalls of heavy metal-shod feet fell with a practiced rhythym that could only be made by a true professional plying their trade.
"Don't give me the 'I have a Wife and Kids' bullcrap, you're an ID-SOL clone." Someone said, standing over a prone ID-SOL with a golf club in his hands, and most of the ID-SOL's teeth scattered on the floor. The ID-SOL himself was restrained with pulses of electricity from the pursuer's right glove. "Tell me where you're shipping the goods to and who your supplier is, or you'll be seeing your men in Hell."
At this point, the pursuer was like a cat playing with his food. He'd killed many times in the past for causes both just and selfish. Taking down an ID-SOL could've been done with his eyes shut - taking down an NMX trafficking ring was a little more involved. "Tick tock. I'm waiting. I don't want to have to broil you inside out." He pointed to his right arm glove, still delivering electrical shocks. "Perhaps I can jog your memory."
"Okay, you win you damned psychopath!" The ID-SOL yelled. The pursuer released his grip curiously. "We're shipping our goods to and from Nepleslia Prime, under the guise of the McLarge Shipping Collective." The pursuer nodded for him to continue, spinning his wrist slowly. "We're using shipping crates, storing them between the corrugations with a fake interior."
"Okay, I'm satisfied." The pursuer replied calmly before reaching for a revolver from his belt. He pulled back the hammer and put the barrel to the ID-SOL ringleader's head. "But I can't let you go. I'm sure you know why - you'd ruin the surprise-"
That High-pitched whining was suddenly heard again, this time from the door on the opposite side of the room. There was a massive concussion, and the door decided to relieve itself from its position of blocking the entryway, preferring rather to - frame and all - fly haphazardly across the room in a tumbling shower of plaster and wood chips.
Behind the door stood a black Powered armor, one of its arms straetched out as if for a punch, the other held ready at the side, if it was needed. clipped around the waistline was an Origin Model Sixteen rifle, which judging by the light coating of dust and other things, had yet to be used in the cacaphonous battle that had lead to this point.
The armor's head was just hidden in shadows, but where its eyes should have been, two inverted triangles connected by a thin circumspecting line glowed a vibrant blue. A voice was heard, and it seemed to be annoyed, or angry. "Stop right there! You've gone far enough!"
Head swivelling up immediately in a haze, the pursuer of the NMX trafficking gang pointed his revolver upwards and fired at the Power Armour, registering it subconsciously as a threat. He didn't recognise the voice. The round simply bounced off the chest of the armor, ricocheting as it lacked any sort of power to penetrate the tough metal plating that provided protection to the wearer. The pursuer looked down at the ID-SOL and wondered if this was his doing, but his incredulous expression to the events around him spoke otherwise. The pursuer stood up, revolver still pointing at the armour and his features furrowed as he came into view. He was still as wounded as the day he was left - nothing on him had healed well, especially his psyche. It was difficult to tell whose blood was whose on him. "What's your problem? I saw him first."
The armor shook its head. This wasn't the one she had been specifically chasing. It seemed like it might be her ultimate goal, but, something was very wrong. "I could care less about him. The problem is you. You've been running around, beating up thugs like it will actually change something, haven't you?" The armor stepped forward, into the room proper, and put its hands on its hips disapprovingly. "You. You're nothing now, but another thug. You're a rat in the sewers, bullying all the other rats just because you can."
He didn't want to hear it. He raised his right arm. The Grapple Stunner that was once the property of a hero had become stained into a claw. "If nothing else, it makes me feel better!" He yelled, his justification was flimsy - but his arm wasn't. He fired the Grapple Stunner at the new Armour's head now that he had a clear shot of it. Something in his subconscious was screaming at him that something was wrong - but he was ignoring it.
However, the armor was faster- the high-pitched whine was heard once more, and the armor thrust its right hand forward, as if punching the air- and yet, bits of clutter on the ground pushed forward and sideways and out of the way as some invisible force made its way toward the shell of a man in its sights, stopping the stunner in its tracks and pushing the man and his prey backwards several meters.
The pursuer could watch the wave coming towards him - and he was going to sidestep it, really. He tried to leap to the side, but the magic wasn't happening. Time was not slowing down for him. His subconscious was screaming at him as the shell of a man was thrust through the air, landing on his side and rolling a few metres before standing back up. The grapple stunner reeled itself in. Enraged and unable to hear his subconscious, the pursuer set his sights on the armour and charged, fist up and crackling with lightning.
This time, the left arm lashed out, and from it came a cable not unlike that which the grapple stunner employed, except, this cable seemed to know what it was doing. It flew at the charging man, and its end twirled, forming a circle around him before suddenly constricting around him and pulling tight, a tug of the arm throwing him viciously upon the floor.
"You're pitiful now," the woman in the black armor began. "I can't believe I ever thought you were something special, seeing you now. To think I slept with you so many times-" she suddenly stopped talking, and the cable lost its hold of the man, reeling back in. The armor's stance suddenly changed, and the voice returned, but it's tone was completely different now.
"You WHAT? With HIM? If it was in this body, I am so going to kill you!" it yelled, sounding quite a bit perturbed at that very idea. The armor convulsed again, the first mind once again mastering it, but it continued to yell at itself. "Stop your bitching! This is the first time I've seen him since I got this body-"
Luca extricated himself from the cable, stood up, grabbed the Armour by the neck with his left hand drew his right fist back. "You're a good impersonator - with twin personalities to boot!" He wasn't able to hear anything. His mind was still awash with violence. He still didn't recognise the past, it was all submerged in blood, anger and sand - and the missing three days. He punched the armour in the stomach - the force behind his fist was amplified by thousands of volts of electricity in a wide, orange-hot arc.
Meanwhile, the ID-SOL was just watching this altercation between a fallen hero and his lover as a spectator. At least they weren't killing him.
The sleek black power armour was thrown across the room with the force of the amplified punch, and Luca started chasing after the armour as it sailed through the air to get more hits in - all he knew was that it was his only good choice for damaging a power armour.
His efforts were stymied however, as the armor boosted itself sideways, the thrusters built into its back activating with the loud sound of rapidly reacting hydrogen being turned into fusion plasma grating on the ears of those present. The armor alighted on its feet on the other side of the room, still crackling with static electricity built up on its outer shell from the punch. "EM protection seems to have held," the armor's AI informed its pilot. "And keep out of this, Ellen!" it scolded.
The third entity seemed to be somewhat worried as it was likely that they would bear the brunt of the battle, anyway. "I'm not impersonating anyone. Unfortunately, I am sharing a body," the first voice explained, growling, as they set themselves up in a fighting stance once more, ther arm making that high-pitched sound once more as it charged. "But you, you're worse than an Impersonator and trust me, I know, I've been following a clone of you, and frankly, I can't tell which is more evil at this point."
If she really is, she'll prove it. Was what he was thinking. "Impersonator? What do you expect me to do, drown a bag of puppies or tie up someone to the nose of a Plumeria as it goes into orbit? Fuck no, I'm just beating up people nobody will miss because it's all I'm good for," was what he said. There was a tinge of regret buried in his voice somewhere.
"If that's true, then it's no big loss if I just kill you here," the woman retorted. The arm pushed forward once more, but instead of a closed fist, it had an open palm. Once again, there was a massive concussive sound and the air in the room suddenly moved with a force that suggested something large was pushing it, but this time it forged a much wider path, and blew things off the ceiling as it went.
You deserve this, you know. I won't let you evade this. His subconscious finally spoke to Luca as he watched the concussive wave fly towards him like a deer in the headlights, lifting him off his feet and giving him that sensation of weightlessness. He was thrown against a wall hard enough to hear something crack. He then fell face down onto the floor. He tried to peel himself back up, but he crumpled, coughing.
Before he knew it, Luca found the power armor's left hand around his neck, picking him up just as he had done to it not long before, except he was now being shoved against the wall as well. "You know what I usually do with Rats?" she asked rhetorically, "I usually shoot them with a lazer blaster, and watch them explode, and all their filth burn away into nothing."
The armor, however, seemed content to just hold Luca there, and it stopped, the voice changing itself once more. "Stop fighting each other! You're both being cruel!"
Meanwhile, the ID-SOL had tried to shuffle away from the fight, quietly and beneath notice. Luca, however, was just hanging in Aerin's grasp like a marionette with the strings cut. He was twitching somewhat as blood began to build up in his lungs. This was the first time he'd been soundly defeated by something since Delsauria. It was equally liberating and terrifying for him.
And then his communicator started ringing, breaking up the silence. He felt it vibrating in his breast pocket. Very few people called him nowadays. It played the opening notes of the 'Phoenix Man!' theme. Luca looked into the eyes of the armour, then down at his jacket, and back up. He was a little indisposed to answer the call himself. He only set that ringtone for people he loved.
The armor loosened its grip a bit, to allow Luca to breathe, and the first tone of voice hissed at the second. "I'll only go as easy as he deserves." However, intrigued by the ringing tone of the communicator, Aerin reached into Luca's pocket and pulled out the device in question. She pressed the answer button with a thumb, and put it on speakerphone so they could both hear.
"Hey dad," the voice - a girl - said, "Before you say anything, just listen a second. You know that guy that works at the corner store down the street near the factory? He asked me out this morning and he's kind of cute, but I didn't want you to come home and wonder where I went, so can I? We aren't going anywhere near the rails or the skid and his gang is cool with me. I'll be fine I promise. I just want to hang out a bit. Please dad?"
When there wasn't any answer, she said, "Hey dad? Are you there? If you're busy I can call back later or something."
Luca didn't grace Aerin or her split personality with an explanation for his daughter. "Still feel like killing me?" He asked with a dour face.
"Maybe a little bit more. If you really do have a Daughter, acting like this is completely out of the question." Aerin growled, clearly perturbed by this revelation. "I should kill you and find someone better to raise her if this is what you've become." Luca growled in response, eyes narrowing.
A little worried, the phone asked, "Dad? Who's that?"
"Vita, listen carefully. I've just had the shit beaten out of me by an old friend of mine. Don't worry, I'll be home before 6:00." He coughed a little. Flecks of blood appeared on the faceplate of Aerin's armor. "Also, if they take you anywhere near the rails, you leave. If they force you to do anything you don't like, don't be afraid to hurt them. Got that?"
There was a pause on the other end that lasted the space of a few ragged breaths. "Yea, dad. Um, do you need me to do something about...?"
"No. You go enjoy yourself. I-Its fine."
"I don't want to lose you, either, dad," the phone reminded Luca.
"I was lost since Delsauria." He reflected bitterly to the audience. "You know I do this because it's all I feel as though will make a difference - but you and I both know it's just a good excuse to knock a head in for shits and giggles."
"I don't think so," the phone said, "dad, that's OK because it's just the way you are. Besides, this town just looks really bad right now and it's not your fault."
There was a pause - a definate pause now. Something was happening in the background. On speakerphone, they could just hear a door shut, and then the soft clop-clop of stairs taken, in no particular rush.
"Listen, I can hear this is on speaker. Please don't mess with my dad. He's not a bad person. He's just doing what other people can't."
"Take a wild fucking guess who the mother was," he snarled in response.
"Couldn't be Zeta, the girl sounds too old, must be a Neko, so... Naoko?" Aerin thought aloud, running through the likely candidates she had met. "Hope she shares better than the other two." Luca nodded in reply.
"I'll only mess with this idiot as far as he needs." Aerin then announced, making her voice loud enought o be heard over the communicator again. "Seems to have lost his sense, and after all the shit I went through to find him, what I got is really effing disappointing." Aerin slowly settled the armor's arm, letting the man drop till his feet were just toughting the floor, giving him enough respite to breathe easily.
"So what do you suppose I do, then?" He asked after inhaling deeply. "Where does the therapy start for a disgraced hero? No psych can diagnose me anyway."
"First, you need to be put in your place." Aerin responded. "And then you need to be kept there until you can keep yourself there."
"So you just want to beat the shit out of me until I have to pick up my teeth and sort them out from his? Been there, done that." He rolled his eyes and pointed at the ID-SOL, who still hadn't moved.
Aerin shook her head "No, you won't be the one picking up your teeth, or the other pieces. That would be immature of me. I'm going to beat you to rock bottom - it really isn't that far from where you are - and then pull you back up, to who you were. To the Hero, Luca Pavone, not this pile of shit beating up thugs because he can't think of a better way to deal with his issues."
"Um, dad?" the phone interrupted. "Are you going to be alright? Because Nathan's here, and he's really nervous. It's cute, but he might run away. Well, not really, but you know what I mean."
"I think she's just looking for a good excuse to beat me into a pulp because she didn't like what she saw me doing. Next?" He rolled his eyes at Aerin. Well, the one that was still half blind was able to roll somewhat. "Maybe I deserve it, maybe not, I don't care at this point."
"I love you, dad." The phone sounded a little worried. "Please don't die."
"Love you too. Bye." Luca replied before turning off the communicator's call and pocketing it. He then looked at Aerin: "So you want to hammer me down to rock bottom - a solid foundation, and build me back up."
"You deserve no better, and no worse, at this point. Even like this, you're not beyond saving. Your biggest weakness is your pride. You think you're invincible. But on your own, out here, like this, even with a daughter to go home to and pretend to be a father to, you've just become pitiful. I need to take away that invincibility, so that you can understand what it is to be human again, and then, you can be the hero." Aerin let go of Luca, and began to rotate her limbs, as if to stretch them. "The question is how long it takes for you to realize this."
And then Luca realised something. Now he knew what his subconscious was talking about. His ability to make what he felt time slow down was a survival reflex. It wasn't something he could just pull out of his arse when the situation called. It had abandoned him for a reason earlier - he was simply too foolhardy and insane to rely on it anymore. He then realised that even though he was trying to do the right thing, the way in which he was going about it made him seem worse than the people he was fighting against - it was no way to lead, no way to be. Third, and possibly the harshest was that he was essentially alone on his own doing. He might've wanted to be alone but he didn't think the consequences of doing so through - and this facilitated and enabled his poor behavior.
He remained silent in light of these epiphanies, and awaited judgement from his former lover. He then spoke one sentence: "Hit me; Don't hold back."
Once more, the loud whining of that invisible hand could be heard charging, and Aerin raised her arm and pulled it back. She stopped for a moment, as if that second mind was trying to prevent Aerin from doing what she was about to do, but the older mind won out, and slowly, the hand moved forward, palm open, and Luca's world turned into a Hurricane.
I'm just a breath away
Losing my faith today
Falling off the edge today
Skillet - Hero
The first notes of the evening chorus of Nepleslia Prime were playing. That brand of Nepleslian violence, crime and exploitation that always kicked up a series of screams, bumps, knocks and thumps; all in an unscripted rhythm that filled the dense evening air. You'd get used to it if you weren't in the middle of it. Tonight was playing a slightly different tune, though. This time, a maestro or two were conducting the orchestra.
On one side, there were cracking necks, stifled screams, splashes of blood, brass casings hitting the floor and lightning bolts to churn up a cacophony of violence. The rhythm to this beat was all over the place, chaotic, wild, out of tune. It ran like a madman's drum solo as bullets ripped through walls and floors and the air was stained with blood for a moment at a time. It was unmethodical, but crudely effective in its brutality. Indeed, while it was a sight to behold for its ugliness, even amongst Nepleslian standards - nobody could deny the impulsiveness, the boldness and brazen conduct of this maestro.
Elsewhere, the sounds of two things could be heard working in conjunction; The whistling sound of a metal cable snapping through the air, and the high-pitched whine of some sort of electronic device rapidly charging itself for action. These two sounds were generally followed by grunts, groans, or screams, as well as the sounds of things crashing and breaking - Furniture, walls, appliances - as well as the crumbling of weaker structures, such as a dropped ceiling's flimsy panels being torn out and tossed around, flopping to rest on the floor.
This second group of noises was greatly contrasted to the first, its pace measured, methodical, almost as if it were part of a well-composed song, or a choreographed dance. Indeed, the footfalls of heavy metal-shod feet fell with a practiced rhythym that could only be made by a true professional plying their trade.
"Don't give me the 'I have a Wife and Kids' bullcrap, you're an ID-SOL clone." Someone said, standing over a prone ID-SOL with a golf club in his hands, and most of the ID-SOL's teeth scattered on the floor. The ID-SOL himself was restrained with pulses of electricity from the pursuer's right glove. "Tell me where you're shipping the goods to and who your supplier is, or you'll be seeing your men in Hell."
At this point, the pursuer was like a cat playing with his food. He'd killed many times in the past for causes both just and selfish. Taking down an ID-SOL could've been done with his eyes shut - taking down an NMX trafficking ring was a little more involved. "Tick tock. I'm waiting. I don't want to have to broil you inside out." He pointed to his right arm glove, still delivering electrical shocks. "Perhaps I can jog your memory."
"Okay, you win you damned psychopath!" The ID-SOL yelled. The pursuer released his grip curiously. "We're shipping our goods to and from Nepleslia Prime, under the guise of the McLarge Shipping Collective." The pursuer nodded for him to continue, spinning his wrist slowly. "We're using shipping crates, storing them between the corrugations with a fake interior."
"Okay, I'm satisfied." The pursuer replied calmly before reaching for a revolver from his belt. He pulled back the hammer and put the barrel to the ID-SOL ringleader's head. "But I can't let you go. I'm sure you know why - you'd ruin the surprise-"
That High-pitched whining was suddenly heard again, this time from the door on the opposite side of the room. There was a massive concussion, and the door decided to relieve itself from its position of blocking the entryway, preferring rather to - frame and all - fly haphazardly across the room in a tumbling shower of plaster and wood chips.
Behind the door stood a black Powered armor, one of its arms straetched out as if for a punch, the other held ready at the side, if it was needed. clipped around the waistline was an Origin Model Sixteen rifle, which judging by the light coating of dust and other things, had yet to be used in the cacaphonous battle that had lead to this point.
The armor's head was just hidden in shadows, but where its eyes should have been, two inverted triangles connected by a thin circumspecting line glowed a vibrant blue. A voice was heard, and it seemed to be annoyed, or angry. "Stop right there! You've gone far enough!"
Head swivelling up immediately in a haze, the pursuer of the NMX trafficking gang pointed his revolver upwards and fired at the Power Armour, registering it subconsciously as a threat. He didn't recognise the voice. The round simply bounced off the chest of the armor, ricocheting as it lacked any sort of power to penetrate the tough metal plating that provided protection to the wearer. The pursuer looked down at the ID-SOL and wondered if this was his doing, but his incredulous expression to the events around him spoke otherwise. The pursuer stood up, revolver still pointing at the armour and his features furrowed as he came into view. He was still as wounded as the day he was left - nothing on him had healed well, especially his psyche. It was difficult to tell whose blood was whose on him. "What's your problem? I saw him first."
The armor shook its head. This wasn't the one she had been specifically chasing. It seemed like it might be her ultimate goal, but, something was very wrong. "I could care less about him. The problem is you. You've been running around, beating up thugs like it will actually change something, haven't you?" The armor stepped forward, into the room proper, and put its hands on its hips disapprovingly. "You. You're nothing now, but another thug. You're a rat in the sewers, bullying all the other rats just because you can."
He didn't want to hear it. He raised his right arm. The Grapple Stunner that was once the property of a hero had become stained into a claw. "If nothing else, it makes me feel better!" He yelled, his justification was flimsy - but his arm wasn't. He fired the Grapple Stunner at the new Armour's head now that he had a clear shot of it. Something in his subconscious was screaming at him that something was wrong - but he was ignoring it.
However, the armor was faster- the high-pitched whine was heard once more, and the armor thrust its right hand forward, as if punching the air- and yet, bits of clutter on the ground pushed forward and sideways and out of the way as some invisible force made its way toward the shell of a man in its sights, stopping the stunner in its tracks and pushing the man and his prey backwards several meters.
The pursuer could watch the wave coming towards him - and he was going to sidestep it, really. He tried to leap to the side, but the magic wasn't happening. Time was not slowing down for him. His subconscious was screaming at him as the shell of a man was thrust through the air, landing on his side and rolling a few metres before standing back up. The grapple stunner reeled itself in. Enraged and unable to hear his subconscious, the pursuer set his sights on the armour and charged, fist up and crackling with lightning.
This time, the left arm lashed out, and from it came a cable not unlike that which the grapple stunner employed, except, this cable seemed to know what it was doing. It flew at the charging man, and its end twirled, forming a circle around him before suddenly constricting around him and pulling tight, a tug of the arm throwing him viciously upon the floor.
"You're pitiful now," the woman in the black armor began. "I can't believe I ever thought you were something special, seeing you now. To think I slept with you so many times-" she suddenly stopped talking, and the cable lost its hold of the man, reeling back in. The armor's stance suddenly changed, and the voice returned, but it's tone was completely different now.
"You WHAT? With HIM? If it was in this body, I am so going to kill you!" it yelled, sounding quite a bit perturbed at that very idea. The armor convulsed again, the first mind once again mastering it, but it continued to yell at itself. "Stop your bitching! This is the first time I've seen him since I got this body-"
Luca extricated himself from the cable, stood up, grabbed the Armour by the neck with his left hand drew his right fist back. "You're a good impersonator - with twin personalities to boot!" He wasn't able to hear anything. His mind was still awash with violence. He still didn't recognise the past, it was all submerged in blood, anger and sand - and the missing three days. He punched the armour in the stomach - the force behind his fist was amplified by thousands of volts of electricity in a wide, orange-hot arc.
Meanwhile, the ID-SOL was just watching this altercation between a fallen hero and his lover as a spectator. At least they weren't killing him.
The sleek black power armour was thrown across the room with the force of the amplified punch, and Luca started chasing after the armour as it sailed through the air to get more hits in - all he knew was that it was his only good choice for damaging a power armour.
His efforts were stymied however, as the armor boosted itself sideways, the thrusters built into its back activating with the loud sound of rapidly reacting hydrogen being turned into fusion plasma grating on the ears of those present. The armor alighted on its feet on the other side of the room, still crackling with static electricity built up on its outer shell from the punch. "EM protection seems to have held," the armor's AI informed its pilot. "And keep out of this, Ellen!" it scolded.
The third entity seemed to be somewhat worried as it was likely that they would bear the brunt of the battle, anyway. "I'm not impersonating anyone. Unfortunately, I am sharing a body," the first voice explained, growling, as they set themselves up in a fighting stance once more, ther arm making that high-pitched sound once more as it charged. "But you, you're worse than an Impersonator and trust me, I know, I've been following a clone of you, and frankly, I can't tell which is more evil at this point."
If she really is, she'll prove it. Was what he was thinking. "Impersonator? What do you expect me to do, drown a bag of puppies or tie up someone to the nose of a Plumeria as it goes into orbit? Fuck no, I'm just beating up people nobody will miss because it's all I'm good for," was what he said. There was a tinge of regret buried in his voice somewhere.
"If that's true, then it's no big loss if I just kill you here," the woman retorted. The arm pushed forward once more, but instead of a closed fist, it had an open palm. Once again, there was a massive concussive sound and the air in the room suddenly moved with a force that suggested something large was pushing it, but this time it forged a much wider path, and blew things off the ceiling as it went.
You deserve this, you know. I won't let you evade this. His subconscious finally spoke to Luca as he watched the concussive wave fly towards him like a deer in the headlights, lifting him off his feet and giving him that sensation of weightlessness. He was thrown against a wall hard enough to hear something crack. He then fell face down onto the floor. He tried to peel himself back up, but he crumpled, coughing.
Before he knew it, Luca found the power armor's left hand around his neck, picking him up just as he had done to it not long before, except he was now being shoved against the wall as well. "You know what I usually do with Rats?" she asked rhetorically, "I usually shoot them with a lazer blaster, and watch them explode, and all their filth burn away into nothing."
The armor, however, seemed content to just hold Luca there, and it stopped, the voice changing itself once more. "Stop fighting each other! You're both being cruel!"
Meanwhile, the ID-SOL had tried to shuffle away from the fight, quietly and beneath notice. Luca, however, was just hanging in Aerin's grasp like a marionette with the strings cut. He was twitching somewhat as blood began to build up in his lungs. This was the first time he'd been soundly defeated by something since Delsauria. It was equally liberating and terrifying for him.
And then his communicator started ringing, breaking up the silence. He felt it vibrating in his breast pocket. Very few people called him nowadays. It played the opening notes of the 'Phoenix Man!' theme. Luca looked into the eyes of the armour, then down at his jacket, and back up. He was a little indisposed to answer the call himself. He only set that ringtone for people he loved.
The armor loosened its grip a bit, to allow Luca to breathe, and the first tone of voice hissed at the second. "I'll only go as easy as he deserves." However, intrigued by the ringing tone of the communicator, Aerin reached into Luca's pocket and pulled out the device in question. She pressed the answer button with a thumb, and put it on speakerphone so they could both hear.
"Hey dad," the voice - a girl - said, "Before you say anything, just listen a second. You know that guy that works at the corner store down the street near the factory? He asked me out this morning and he's kind of cute, but I didn't want you to come home and wonder where I went, so can I? We aren't going anywhere near the rails or the skid and his gang is cool with me. I'll be fine I promise. I just want to hang out a bit. Please dad?"
When there wasn't any answer, she said, "Hey dad? Are you there? If you're busy I can call back later or something."
Luca didn't grace Aerin or her split personality with an explanation for his daughter. "Still feel like killing me?" He asked with a dour face.
"Maybe a little bit more. If you really do have a Daughter, acting like this is completely out of the question." Aerin growled, clearly perturbed by this revelation. "I should kill you and find someone better to raise her if this is what you've become." Luca growled in response, eyes narrowing.
A little worried, the phone asked, "Dad? Who's that?"
"Vita, listen carefully. I've just had the shit beaten out of me by an old friend of mine. Don't worry, I'll be home before 6:00." He coughed a little. Flecks of blood appeared on the faceplate of Aerin's armor. "Also, if they take you anywhere near the rails, you leave. If they force you to do anything you don't like, don't be afraid to hurt them. Got that?"
There was a pause on the other end that lasted the space of a few ragged breaths. "Yea, dad. Um, do you need me to do something about...?"
"No. You go enjoy yourself. I-Its fine."
"I don't want to lose you, either, dad," the phone reminded Luca.
"I was lost since Delsauria." He reflected bitterly to the audience. "You know I do this because it's all I feel as though will make a difference - but you and I both know it's just a good excuse to knock a head in for shits and giggles."
"I don't think so," the phone said, "dad, that's OK because it's just the way you are. Besides, this town just looks really bad right now and it's not your fault."
There was a pause - a definate pause now. Something was happening in the background. On speakerphone, they could just hear a door shut, and then the soft clop-clop of stairs taken, in no particular rush.
"Listen, I can hear this is on speaker. Please don't mess with my dad. He's not a bad person. He's just doing what other people can't."
"Take a wild fucking guess who the mother was," he snarled in response.
"Couldn't be Zeta, the girl sounds too old, must be a Neko, so... Naoko?" Aerin thought aloud, running through the likely candidates she had met. "Hope she shares better than the other two." Luca nodded in reply.
"I'll only mess with this idiot as far as he needs." Aerin then announced, making her voice loud enought o be heard over the communicator again. "Seems to have lost his sense, and after all the shit I went through to find him, what I got is really effing disappointing." Aerin slowly settled the armor's arm, letting the man drop till his feet were just toughting the floor, giving him enough respite to breathe easily.
"So what do you suppose I do, then?" He asked after inhaling deeply. "Where does the therapy start for a disgraced hero? No psych can diagnose me anyway."
"First, you need to be put in your place." Aerin responded. "And then you need to be kept there until you can keep yourself there."
"So you just want to beat the shit out of me until I have to pick up my teeth and sort them out from his? Been there, done that." He rolled his eyes and pointed at the ID-SOL, who still hadn't moved.
Aerin shook her head "No, you won't be the one picking up your teeth, or the other pieces. That would be immature of me. I'm going to beat you to rock bottom - it really isn't that far from where you are - and then pull you back up, to who you were. To the Hero, Luca Pavone, not this pile of shit beating up thugs because he can't think of a better way to deal with his issues."
"Um, dad?" the phone interrupted. "Are you going to be alright? Because Nathan's here, and he's really nervous. It's cute, but he might run away. Well, not really, but you know what I mean."
"I think she's just looking for a good excuse to beat me into a pulp because she didn't like what she saw me doing. Next?" He rolled his eyes at Aerin. Well, the one that was still half blind was able to roll somewhat. "Maybe I deserve it, maybe not, I don't care at this point."
"I love you, dad." The phone sounded a little worried. "Please don't die."
"Love you too. Bye." Luca replied before turning off the communicator's call and pocketing it. He then looked at Aerin: "So you want to hammer me down to rock bottom - a solid foundation, and build me back up."
"You deserve no better, and no worse, at this point. Even like this, you're not beyond saving. Your biggest weakness is your pride. You think you're invincible. But on your own, out here, like this, even with a daughter to go home to and pretend to be a father to, you've just become pitiful. I need to take away that invincibility, so that you can understand what it is to be human again, and then, you can be the hero." Aerin let go of Luca, and began to rotate her limbs, as if to stretch them. "The question is how long it takes for you to realize this."
And then Luca realised something. Now he knew what his subconscious was talking about. His ability to make what he felt time slow down was a survival reflex. It wasn't something he could just pull out of his arse when the situation called. It had abandoned him for a reason earlier - he was simply too foolhardy and insane to rely on it anymore. He then realised that even though he was trying to do the right thing, the way in which he was going about it made him seem worse than the people he was fighting against - it was no way to lead, no way to be. Third, and possibly the harshest was that he was essentially alone on his own doing. He might've wanted to be alone but he didn't think the consequences of doing so through - and this facilitated and enabled his poor behavior.
He remained silent in light of these epiphanies, and awaited judgement from his former lover. He then spoke one sentence: "Hit me; Don't hold back."
Once more, the loud whining of that invisible hand could be heard charging, and Aerin raised her arm and pulled it back. She stopped for a moment, as if that second mind was trying to prevent Aerin from doing what she was about to do, but the older mind won out, and slowly, the hand moved forward, palm open, and Luca's world turned into a Hurricane.
