Heavyweight

Carver Bernard, 29, boxer, metal exoskeleton. Show me where my skin ends and my armours begins

[venerdi]

Maybe it’s because she’s looking so closely at his face, but she notices the small – very small but definitely there – tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth. It makes her blush and smile to herself, ducking her head to hide her reddening cheeks and spreading grin. Maybe she can pass if off as shyness and a bit of embarrassment over her needless worry, but she knows it’s as much that as the fact that she’s gotten him to do something other than frown. 

Her gaze quickly shoots back up to him as he rises to his feet and calls for her to join him. He’s right, and she knows he’s right, but that doesn’t make the act of walking away from her sketchbook not feel like walking away from Rhys. She wants desperately to object. To argue that she can’t get up for something as trivial as water when Rhys is still missing, but his earlier point comes back to her. She’s not going to be any good to anyone if she’s sick or worse from not taking care of herself. It feels selfish, but she takes some comfort in the fact that he’s telling her to do it. It’s not as if she’s walking away willingly; she’s been given permission to. She’s been practically demanded to.

So she tries to get up.

And she can’t.

Not at first. Her whole body locks up – her back and neck are aching from being hunched over her book, her butt and thighs are practically numb from being seated on the hard chair beneath her, and her eyes and head still throb horrifically. She has to steady herself with both hands on the table in front of her as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her exhale is slow and measured, drawn out to force her to relax enough to release some of the tension in her body. Carefully – so, so carefully – she rises from her seat.

“Gosh, I need to stretch,” she thinks aloud, making a mental note to find a space where she can do just that now that she’s up. Maybe she’ll pull out her pointe shoes and find a quiet place to unwind once she’s a little steadier on her feet. As it is now, she half walks, half shuffles forward, looking straight up into the man’s eyes when she’s at his side as they head for the kitchen.

“Um. I-I’m Friday. ….when we met before I don’t think I ever introduced myself. Or said thank you.”

[carvcrbernard]

Maybe if Bern was being honest there was something endearing about the way the girl ducked her head, red hair almost covering the grin he caught spreading there. Still, even if he was being honest it didn’t mean that the blush creeping over her cheeks was something he considered to be because of him, instead putting it down to the fact that she could simply just be embarrassed by the situation. There was hardly anything else about their conversation to cause it, at least not in his mind. 

He waited for her to stand, giving her plenty of space and time to do it however she wished. What was just careful observation in his eyes quickly turned to concern as he saw the struggle she was going through to pull herself to her feet. However, he refrained from reaching out to her, it was something she had to do by herself. Bern gave her a little nod, both in recognition of what she’d managed to do and in agreement to her statement. “There’ll be plenty of time for that once you’ve eaten.” His eyes flicked over her once more, assessing whether she’d be able to make it without help or not. He decided against carrying her but that it would also be too cruel to make her do it by herself. So he took a few steps closer and took her arm in an attempt to put it around his shoulders before having to settle for it around his waist when their height difference proved more than he’d anticipated. His own arm took up its own place on her, mirroring the position. 

“You let me know any time you need to stop.” There was some quiet almost abstract thought in the back of his mind that whispered that she might think poorly of him for making her walk when her limbs clearly protested it. But it wasn’t something he paid much attention to. Not when being liked was far from the most important thing - getting her healthy and moving around again was. Besides, nice was something he’d left far behind him, abandoned to his childhood days when his mother had been by his side to give him that glowing example to follow. Now the best he could be was present and help in his own way, which was enough to leave him content enough.

Setting their pace slowly, he set them on course to the kitchen. Though he couldn’t be sure how the girl - Friday, she’d said - was feeling, he could take a good enough guess that it was probably something she’d need her mind taken off, which is why he decided to say more than he had strung together in months when she referenced the first time they’d met. “Bern and you don’t have to thank me.” It was something any decent person would have done and he hardly counted himself as even that these days. He was swift to move it one for once, not wanting gratitude when it had been as much for his benefit in relieving rage as it had for her. “So what do you do, Friday?” 

[jesperfahey]

[runaway-hall]

Charlie isn’t alarmed by the voice, perhaps due to senses on high alert since a man burst into the bar with an army behind him. Her shoulders stay still and her hand steady on the handgun. She knows the voice that interrupts her own training. Not well, but she can place a face to it and it was her turning to gaze up at Bern, something like the ghost of a smile on her lips, if only to be polite. “Yeah,” she agrees quietly with a nod of her head, “Just wanted to be the most comfortable with this one.” Because it’s hers. Seamus gave it to her and she didn’t ask question on how he got the firearm. It doesn’t matter now. She shakes her head, red ringlets rustling around her shoulders as she attempts to change the subject, “How are you?”

[carvcrbernard]

There’s a nod given at the logic in her statement,one he’ll accept with ease. For all he’s always had a comfortable relationship with violence and the bloodshed that he was capable of inflicting and did so regularly, Bern had never once expected or thought any less of those who struggled with the nature of it. He wasn’t sure where Charlie fell but what did matter was that she was trying so when there was a shake of her head as though  to dismiss some thoughts from her head, he’s happy to let her move the subject along. “I’ll be a lot better when we get those bastards.” Not once had he ever made a secret of his hatred for the Initiative, and he was certain that no one else would be feeling anything but the same towards them now. “And once we get our guys back.” He didn’t know the Scottish girl well but he did know Rhys, thought him to be a good man, someone he wasn’t willing to leave in their clutches. “You?”

[runaway-hall]

The Estate feels the safest but perhaps it’s the grandest target for the Initiative. Still, Charlie finds herself spending more time at the Selvaggio home than her own, terrified she’ll return to find an agent waiting for her, like a monster under her bed. It could merely be the idea of safety in numbers, that so many of her own rush in and out of the building like it’s equipped with a revolving door and there’s something comforting in that, something normal. Something like family. And that’s what she has to fight for now. That’s the reason she sits outside at the patio table alone, unloading and reloading the handgun until it starts to feel like second nature, like the weapon is a part of her toxic skin, which still feels cold even in the California heat.

[carvcrbernard]

It didn’t surprise him any more to see his fellow members doing things that he wouldn’t have normally expected from them before the attack. They all handled it in different ways and dealt with it how they could. Bern couldn’t say he knew Charlie well enough to know if this was out of the norm for her but he’d certainly never come across her with a gun in her hands before - from what he’d gathered her power was usually weapon enough. Her fingers handle the gun well and while he prefers to use his own body to inflict harm, he’s had enough practise with firearms to be mildly impressed. Not enough to give the redhead anything but a low suggestion. “You should try a different one now.”

[venerdi]

Seeing her own blood isn’t something Friday’s used to, especially when it’s not from a skinned knee or a cut from shaving but from a steam slowly leaking from her ears. It’s that more than anything that snaps her out of her exhaustion and sends her careening towards panic. That she’s bleeding from her ears cannot be good – she doesn’t know what it means or how to stop it. She just knows it’s really bad.

She’s half worried about herself but mostly worried about what being out of commission will mean for her search for Rhys. She can’t give up; she can’t not find him. That’s simply not an option. But if she’s worked herself to illness or worse, she won’t be able to bring him home. Her eyes begin to well up as her breathing picks up and shallows. Her body starts to tremble little by little. It’s been quite a long time since she last had a panic attack, but these are the early signs. She knows what’s coming.

Before she can work up a good panic though, he’s crouched down next to her. His hand – one of two huge, powerful hands that she’s seen do incredibly violent things – reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she almost cries over how gentle the act is. She’s not used to gentle touches, to delicate treatment. Even when he pulls his sleeve over his fingers to wipe the blood from her face, it’s so much less harsh than she’d expect from the man she knows him to be. Maybe there’s more to him then, she thinks. It’s not like she can know everything about him after only seeing him twice.

“N-no, your–… your shirt…”

He doesn’t seem at all concerned that he’s now got her blood on his shirt, but she is. Before she can reach for him to inspect the fabric, he’s telling her in no uncertain terms that it’s time for her to stop. She looks over at him, wanting to argue but stopped by his proximity and the seriousness of the look on his face. She’s so busy just looking at him that she misses his question. It takes several moments for her brain to string his words together into an intelligible inquiry and several moments more for her to respond.

“I–… I don’t know. I don’t remember. ……..I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here.”

[carvcrbernard]

The girl’s breathing had been becoming shallower and faster and there was that trembling that had been there in the aftermath of how they’d first met. Bern might not be a doctor but he knew enough to spot the beginnings of a panic attack. He wasn’t denying that there was relief that something he had done had managed to stop it taking hold of her, though there was a certainty that he would have found some way to help her deal with it to the best of his abilities. Caring and careful might not be his strong suit but they were all in it together.

There’s a small tug at the corner of his mouth when she stops her protests over his shirt with one look at his face. It wasn’t something he was going to take an argument over. It was just a shirt, it’d wash or he’d buy a new one. He wasn’t about to let her sit there with blood trickling down her face when the mere might of it only teased the rage that was always lurking below his skin, making his hands itch to form fists that he knew could do so much damage.

But there was no point in paying attention to the violence he longed to unleash when the ones he wanted on the receiving end were out of his reach. Right now the only thing he could do was make sure they were all ready, this redhead included, so while he might not have been the one for sympathy he could do patience and wait for her to give her answer even when he wasn’t sure she’d even heard the question in her worry.

Giving her a nod of acknowledgement he stood up once more. “Come on.” Once again, Bern left little room for argument in his voice - not when she so clearly needed to take care of herself. “Leave this for now. You need some water and something to eat.” The cupboards of the Estate were open to all of them and he intended to find something that she could stomach in spite of all the worry. 

[venerdi]

She isn’t expecting to hear his voice coming from so close to her – just as with everything else, she would jump if she weren’t so tired. Anyway, she shakes her head, groaning at the pain the action causes. It feels like her brain rolls around in her head, crashing violently into the walls of her skull – it’s making things like seeing and talking very difficult.

She’s surprised by how gentle he sounds when he tells her to take it easy. In her experience with him, gentle isn’t his strong suit. The words that follow are more like him – harsh but well-intended. She frowns.

“’M not sick. And it’s not like I’m doing much goo– wha–…?”

It’s at that moment when she goes to tuck her hair behind her ear that she feels the blood trickling down the side of her face. She brings her fingers around so she can see them, staring almost uncomprehendingly at  the bright spot of red on her pale skin. But yet again, she’s far too drained to really be scared.

“……That’s never happened before…”

[carvcrbernard]

There’s a shake of his head that mimics hers, although his is more in disbelief in the state that she’s allowed herself to get into. The groan she gives would suggest that she’d become that focused on what she was doing everything else came in second - even her own well being. It was something he wasn’t overly familiar with, not when his health and fitness was usually so instrumental in achieving what he needed to do. Looking after himself was a necessity but Bern couldn’t claim he’d do anything different from the redhead if that wasn’t the case.

His jaw clenches as he sees graceful fingers come away from her ear stained red. There’s that much blood on his own hands adding to it isn’t something that bothers him any more but he hates that the world has caused an innocent like her to have to witness that shock of red on their fingertips - even if it is her own. If anything it only adds to his hatred of the Initiative and makes him reaffirm the vow he made when they dragged his mother away from him.

Seeing the blood there becomes too much for him and just as quickly as he was at her side, he’s crouching by her side. “Here, let me look at that.” It takes a lot for him to manage to move his hand gently when they’re more accustomed to throwing a punch than moving the strand of hair away. He moves his hand away only to pull his sleeve over his hand to wipe it away, not caring if another item of his clothing is marred with blood - it’d hardly be the first.

“Time to stop and rest.” There’s no room for arguing left with his tone, not when they all need to be keeping their strength up if they’ve any hope of getting the ones taken back. “When did you last have a drink?”

[venerdi]

She nearly drops her pencil when she hears his voice. She’s exhausted, so tired she can’t even blush, but her eyes work just fine. She knows under normal circumstances she’d be flushed from head to toe. It’s been a while since she’s been even this close to him, but it doesn’t take much to see how gorgeous he is. Still, she’s got other things to worry about.

“I-… I know staring’s not gonna help, that’s not what I’m doing…” She sighs again. She ignores the splitting headache she’d developed several hours before and closes her eyes, turning back to her page. “…C’mon, Rhys, please…”

But she’s been pushing herself too hard for too long. Her head hurts the more she pushes and still she keeps pushing, not realizing her ears have begun to bleed.

[carvcrbernard]

It’s obvious that the girl is exhausted and Bern can respect the lengths she’s putting herself through in order to find those who they have lost. Doesn’t mean that he’d ever ask her to put as much strain on herself as she clearly is but in all honesty he would be the first to do the same if his power could be used in that way. As it was he’d be far better suited to tearing them all apart and making them pay, which was exactly what he planned to do.

There’s maybe the slightest feeling of regret when she stumbles out an answer to his words and goes back to closing her eyes  Even more so when she mentions Rhys’s name and the man can’t help but wonder just how close they are and how much his loss has been affecting her.

A trickle of red catches his attention and before long he’s at her side. “Take it easy.” The words come out just about as softly as he can manage but there’s no denying the next ones sound harsher and more chastising than they should. “Making yourself ill isn’t going to help anyone.” 

[carvcrbernard]

Do you plan on helping find those that are missing?

[carvcrbernard]

Do you think you could win in a fight against a Corinthian?

“Yeah.”

“Fighting is what I do.”

[carvcrbernard]

Boom Town || Nyx & Bern

[nox-incendii]

Bern.

Definitely not his first name.

It doesn’t matter though – what’s important is that he seems to have recognized that they’re on the same side. Just as the remaining agent apparently recognizes that he’s not going to have an easy time with either of them.

Curiously, Bern hands over the reins of their little skirmish for the time being, telling her in very few words that the last guy is hers to take care of. She almost smirks, but she’s too angry now – she’d been having a perfectly chill day, she’d met a new drinking buddy… and now she’s fighting for her life, fighting to get back to her son and safety.

She’s fucking pissed.

And it shows when she picks up the chair from the table to her left. Nyx is a fighter, for sure, but not one of the fancy, martial arts kind: she’s a street fighter which means she’ll use anything and everything around her to her advantage. Including that chair.

She shoves it hard into the agent’s chest by the legs, and he stumbles backwards. It gives her enough space to turn the chair from a battering ram to a club. In a two-hand swing, she brings it down across his head and shoulder and he falls to the ground, unmoving. Two more rush her, and she swings at them too, hitting one in the arm and the other in the ribs. Both try to get in follow-up blows, but Nyx is anticipating them. She drops the chair and ducks their wound up fists to deliver a volley of punches to each, and they drop just as their associate did. She turns to look for any more takers when she sees one approaching Bern. As he’s distracted taking down a few agents of his own, she grabs the nearest thing to her – her quarter-full glass tumbler – and launches it. It hits the female agent (and why the hell had she been willing to take on a man twice her size anyway?) just over the eyebrow and breaks. She goes down too, screaming over the glass in her face and the alcohol in her eye.

[carvcrbernard]

If he had more time he’d have watched the woman’s display of violence, heavily impressed at the ferocity she possessed despite such a small stature,  but there was not time in situations like these. Not when the agents had a goal and he was so defiantly standing in their way, making himself more of a target than ever. 

Once ore they come at him and once more he meets them with the same precise ease, as though he’s not prepared to use any more energy on a single one of them than necessary. They’re all unimportant, in the way of what he wants and he’s clinical in the way he disposes every single one of them. There’s a crushing of bones as he twists one agents arm up behind his back, moving it into an unnatural position to cause maximum damage with minimum effort. Then comes the next one, who is dispatched much like the first blood he drew of the day, by slamming his head into the nearby table. There’s a crack that should probably be sickening to him but once you’d done it enough times the noise was simply to be expected. A sign that they were taken care of.

More approach him and he has enough time to think on their stupidity and just how brainwashed they must be to still approach him after witnessing what he could do. Bern handles them all with ease. Punches fly and more bones or broken as he himself takes few hits and none of any real ability to cause damage. There’s a smash nearby and his gaze shifts to the female agent who goes down, sparing a nod for the woman who helped him before something else catches his eye.

There’s two Selvaggios standing with a man aiming a gun at them as Eli riffles through his pocket. No a thought is given to his actions before he engages the man, quickly disarming him with a snap of his arm by taking him from the side. “Get out of here.” Comes a barked command as he’s once again he’s pulled into the fight. A glance is sparred for the woman he’d shared his table with. Satisfied she’s more than holding her own he goes back to the man that had the nerve to target two children of their late, great leader. Any mercy he might have had gone, Bern moves quickly into another volley of punches, the man’s face losing shape with every hit. Then there’s a chair smashed brutally over the guy’s head in some attempt to put him out of his misery but he’s not done yet. Not until a shard of glass is picked up from the ground and driven through the heart.

[mcu-cast]

[itanista]

Bern’d || Connor + Bern

The club’s baseline was palpable, like always. The line to get in was a mile long, like always. The same guy was a bouncer at the club door, like most nights but not always. People have to have nights off eventually, yo. There was one key difference tonight.

A tiny, under aged white kid was in line.

Okay, so he knew the bouncer and was possibly going to get let in despite his age. Maybe he just really wanted to get drunk tonight. He knew once you were inside nobody carded. He may or may not have staked out the club from a fair distance away with a pair of home-made binocular glasses. Nobody cared what you did inside the seediest club. It was getting in that was tough. That was where Bern came in. He’d let Connor in, because the boy had finally learned enough precision to doctor his own ID.

It was a thin film of glass, making the ID look laminated. Right over the age and the birthdate, however, the glass was subtly bent and altered to reject the passage of light in a certain shape along the glass, making the “19” on his ID suddenly look like a “22”, and the ’98 look like an ’88. It was bound to get him in, no question. He had it solved.

So, smug and secure, he smirked as he handed his undetectable forgery to Bern at the door. “Come on Bern. You gotta admit. I do good work. Lemme in.” He attempted to persuade without smiling. Apparently he’d been told he looked like he was twelve when he smiled.

[carvcrbernard]

The line to 7 Sins might always be long but there was no denying how regimented and orderly it was. Bern liked to think that it was all down to him and the aura he gave off and he was probably right. Everything about him seemed to scream he was not to be messed with and it made his job a hell of a lot easier.

The queue progressed as it should, nothing out of the ordinary happening as he let them in to get their fix of the more risque. Even if he’d been the type to have more than a few drinks it wouldn’t have been his club of choice. He preferred somewhere a little more peaceful, though it did at least have dark corners in it’s favour. But the place had Syndicate ties and he got to keep an eye on the girls while keeping a roof over his head. There were worst ways to be earning a living, as he well knew. At least this income was honest.

Then a kid steps in front of him, wearing a smug look that Bern was pretty sure he was going to wipe off his face in a matter of seconds. If he hadn’t been holding up the line maybe there would have been a smile at the confidence the kid had, or at least the tightening of his lips that passed as a smile. But there wasn’t, Connor was met with the same deadpan expression as every other customer who tried to pull one over on him.

“Not gonna happen kid.” There was a finality in his tone and despite still reaching for the ID he wasn’t going to change his mind. Eyes were cast over the little card and his expression morphed into an impressed one. But it still wasn’t enough. “Good job but it’s still no. Move along now.”

[venerdi]

It’s been days, and she’s not drawn a thing.

Nothing.

Not one single drawing.

Any other time when she wouldn’t want to draw, she’d be filling notebooks, but now that she’s desperate to? Radio silence from her powers.

At the moment, she’s too tired to even cry, so she sits in a random empty room of the Selvaggio estate and hangs her head, pencil hovering over a depressingly blank page in her sketch book.

[carvcrbernard]

Staying at the estate wasn’t something he would have chosen but it was orders. Besides at a time like this they needed to be all together, trying to work through it.

Maybe her wasn’t the best one to give sympathy but it was the acknowledgement that they were all in this together that made him stop instead of just walking on by when he saw the red head he’d saved looking so forlorn.

Stepping into the room Bern takes up residence leaning against one of the walls, simply regarding her for a few moments before speaking. “Staring at it isn’t going to help.”

[carvcrbernard]

Carver Bernard Moodboard 1/?

[carvcrbernard]

Boom Town || Nyx & Bern

[nox-incendii]

She knew enough guys back home like this one to recognize the smile in the barely there quirk of her tablemate’s lips. It makes it clear to her right away what type of man she’s dealing with – he won’t make small talk, and he’s not gonna try to hit on her. He just wants to sit and drink and be left in peace.

She can appreciate that. She feels the same way.

His eyes scan the crowd as hers had done when she first sat down, but while she’d spotted several faces that she knew or at least recognized, he’s interrupted in the act by the hoard of yelling agents that came rushing into the tavern. The newcomer rises slowly to his feet, and every inch of his body screams fighter. Screams killer. 

She’s not disappointed when he (very, very nicely) handles the man who comes at him. While the other two debate whether or not to approach, Nyx lets go, letting the thick walls and guards she builds up around her power crumble…

And nothing happens.

“Fucking Corinthians,” she hisses, just as her new punchy friend asks her whose side she’s on. She quirks an eyebrow – she really can’t help but be a smartass, it’s in her nature – but before she can spit out a sassy retort, one of the men is rushing at her.

Nyx picks up the napkin dispenser in her left hand. The force from her backhand swing sends the man running at her crumbling to the ground screaming, blood dripping down the side of his face and off of the dispenser itself. With a foot on his crotch to make sure he doesn’t move or try anything, Nyx reaches down and relieves him of his firearm, disassembling it and throwing the pieces to the ground behind her with no trouble. She then turns back to the man in front of her.

“Nyx. Nice to be kicking ass with you.” She nods towards the third man. “You got him, or you want me to?”

[carvcrbernard]

Sass had never been something he could claim to be fond of. He found it rather indulgent most of the time and just a general waste of time. So it was needless to say that he didn’t appreciate it from the woman in answer to his question.

But he could appreciate the way she handles herself. The other agent is dispatched in brutal fashion and he can’t help but admire just how much blood she’s shed within seconds. Exactly what needs to be happening.

Her actions answer his question for him and he gives her a curt nod in return, though it’s possibly on the warmer side than the first one he’d given her. “Bern.” He left off a reply about them kicking ass together - whether it was a good thing was yet to be soon.

Had there not been bullets flying and the sound of glass shattering he might have almost smiled at the terrified expression on the man’s face as the question was raised as to who would take him. As it was, he didn’t let any amusement chink his armour, because his stony expression was as much a part of his protection as anything else. Made people think twice about approaching him and that was all he needed. Just a split second to get a hold of them and then it was all over.

“After you.” Usually he wasn’t one to pass up a fight but he wanted to see what this woman could do. If they were going to work together he neede to get some idea of ther strengths and weaknesses.

Besides, their little uproar had caught attention and there were plenty more agents coming their way who he was more than happy to lay his fists into, wasting no time in doing so when the first one was close enough.

[carvcrbernard]

Boom Town || Nyx & Bern

[nox-incendii]

It’s rare that Nyx gets time to herself, but Jaxon’s playdate and sleepover meant that she got some much needed time to think. Or, in her case, brood. There’s a lot on her mind lately: her sister and parents still back in Louisiana and without her for the first time ever, Ariadne’s insistence that Roman should know that she and Jax are in LA, and the mysterious and slightly creepy stranger she’d met weeks ago chief among them. Those thoughts alone are heavy enough to drive her to Left Blank – she needs something to take the edge off. To slow the buzzing maelstrom in her head and give her some semblance of peace.

She’d gotten to the tavern just before the rush – it’d been easy enough to order her drink and grab a table in the corner where she could be alone and watch everyone else get drunk and crazy. Laugh at everyone else causing themselves problems rather than contemplating their own. As business started to pick up, Nyx was more and more glad that she’d come early. Having to push her way through this throng of people to get to the bar and then be stuck without a table would’ve pissed her off to no end. Such was her mood. As it is, she’s already glaring off unwanted advances from half drunk suitors who wouldn’t even hold her interest were they sober.

It’s as one such rejected guy walks away that another shuffles up. For some reason, she’s not alarmed though he’s huge and, when he speaks, gruff as hell. She can tell he’s not the cuddly type, but that’s okay. She nods to the open chair regardless, offering him a quick smile.

“Have at it.”

[carvcrbernard]

There was a tightening of his lips that could have been classed as a smile if you were being liberal but for Bern it was a good as it got. Thankfully the woman seemed happy to let silence settle between them and the was the way he preferred it. Though he was sure that any attempts she made being greeted by his usual monosyllabic answers would quickly tell her that he’d come to be alone and wasn’t looking for any sort of company. Taking a sip of his drink, he let his eyes travel around the room. They’d just brushed past the door when it was flung open and agents came pouring in, threatening to take them all away in cuffs or a body bag.

He rose to his feet as soon as they entered. Slowly and deliberately. The set of his shoulders and the way that he planted his feet showed them that this was not a surrender, he would not comply. No, he was standing his ground and not going down without a fight. His body tensed as he tried to summon the metal that was always resting underneath his kin but it didn’t come. Maybe it should have caused a bigger reaction than the smallest of frowns lasting only seconds but he wasn’t worried. Causing damage with his bare hands was something he’d been doing for ears.

The first one who neared him looked wary, and rightly so, even without his skin glinting from the strength of the metal that usually encased it he was deadly. With precise, powerful punches he drove the man back before getting the upper hand and slamming his head into the wall with a crunch. It was debilitating though he didn’t pause long enough to see if it had also been fatal. In the break while the other agents seemed to silently argue over who would try to tackle him next, Bern turned to the woman he’d been sharing a table with, trying to decide if she was at threat that needed to be neutralised or a potentially ally. Hands poised and ready to strike again his eyes barely left the men while he addressed her bluntly. “Whose side are you on?”

[carvcrbernard]

Boom Town || Nyx & Bern

He’d never been much of a drinker and any of the need to had all but vanished once he’d joined the Syndicate. Even if it had been whiskey fuelled rage that had led him to even be a part of it in the first place but that doesn’t mean he relished the lack of control it brought him too. From that day a month could easily go by without a drop of alcohol passing his lips. His rage wasn’t something to be played with and the chance of stoking it with the liquid wasn’t one he was willing to take most of the time. He’d be no good to the Syndicate if he ended up behind bars for making a mess of some guy who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

But for once he’d craved it. Not enough to get him drunk, of course but just a quiet drink at a bar. With the Initiative around more than anyone wanted he was tenser than usual, coiled like a spring and ready to jump into action at the first opportunity. There’d been no break through for him in finding the man Gwen had asked him to take care of and that alone had driven his frustration levels high enough to try to find something to take a little bit of the edge off. 

His intention had been to get to Left Blank at a quiter time, avoid having to make small talk with people who he’d rather jut ignored him so he could ignore them right back. Except the place was full, with him having to direct a few curt nods to other members that he saw in the place. All the Selvaggios were there, Rhys and a couple of others too. But instead of striking up a conversation like he maybe should have he focused on what he’d come there for and bought his whiskey before heading to a more peaceful corner. The table that he had his eye on only had one other occupant who seemed like she’d be happy enough in her own company and let him have his drink in peace. Clearing his throat, Bern got the woman’s attention before inquiring gruffly. “This seat taken?”