mxmicry:
postthumous:
It’s not Felix’s spiteful reply that sparks violence, it is the bullet. Although the metal passes through him without much damage done it does not excuse the action. The almost thoughtful hum leaving Reaper masks displeasure, and just for a moment it seems as if he was going to answer Locus-
But things could never be that simple. Sharpened steel plunges into Felix, just behind his collarbone. Never one to make idle threats he still too planned to take it further, eventually, but the mercenary’s death was not the goal just yet.
“Ask your partner, he knows why he is about to die.”
Though it never just stopped at death when it came to him. No, the nanites needed more, and even before someone was fully dead could they start ripping away what was needed. All it took was a fatal wound to start a bloodlust.. soon, very soon.
“Come on, Felix. You still have a little kick left in you, I know it, tell him what he wants to know~”
{ Felix yelps, or perhaps screams in surprise, in pain. His body jerks, involuntarily trying to escape the unwelcome intrusion, and he ends up straightening fast enough to slam the back of his head against the wall (again). Sparks and giant blots of black clouded his vision, feeling tears pricking his eyes, blinding him further. Feels his arm go numb, agony racing up and down his spine like water sloshing in a trough.
His breath is a fractured wreck, stutters of gasped pain, shaken down to the core. ( there’s a considerable difference, you notice dimly, between getting shot in the leg and stabbed behind the collarbone. you hope this doesn’t ruin your arm. )
His head spins and the room with it, cotton in his ears, an awful pressure building fast behind his eyes. Tremors beneath his skin that weren’t quite visible yet, though perhaps could be felt. It takes him a few shortened gasps to remember how to speak, to realize attention is back on him. He manages what he can. }
“ – – hhhe had short hair, military, but a few months older. fuck, ah. Brown. Don’t remember the eyes. Snakebite piercings. I think - sshhhit - gold? Upscale clothes, but I figured that was just a ffff - uck - a front. ”
{ The soldier doesn’t miss the way the bullet seems to pass through the stranger, nor the way he seems to shrug it off as if it were nothing more than an irritating gnat flying around one’s face. He had a feeling it would be ineffective, though he had hoped there would be a small amount of damage to rattle him ( of course it could never be THAT easy ). The silvery glint of the blade is the only warning Locus receives that Reaper has zero intent to answer any of his questions. Felix’s piercing scream is what breaks the silence & follows the flash of the knife; bright red blood against slightly tanned flesh makes him tense, though his expression changes little. Hardens his heart, chains his emotions & locks them away ( -- a reflexive reaction. you know better than to give yourself away to the enemy. felix has taught you through the years how to emotionally distance yourself & sever the ties to that which makes you human. you are a soldier. a machine of war ). Stance remains firms, an immovable force as dark eyes harden & narrow on the wound, flicker back to Reaper’s form in an instant. The growl in his throat has ceased: listened as Felix spoke. He was giving a description of someone? Is this, perhaps, what the other was seeking? It wasn’t anyone he knew, but Locus was never privy to the knowledge of those who hired them. People & communication with them weren’t necessarily his strong suits: it was better this way, but it often left Felix the target when another found out about them. He’ll have to tend to his partner when this guy leaves. Given he has nothing to add that could possibly be considered helpful ( & the only words you can think of are unnecessary & would very likely cause more harm than good ), Locus holds his tongue. No point in attacking someone who seems to be immune to injury either. }
