Good reflexes; the dodge was impressive. But without hesitation, Nebula moved forward and turned, her next attack already in motion, via the boot that was heading right to his face. She didn’t want to kill this man, not particularly, but her mission now was to keep going until he proved himself. Which would be a while, maybe, due to the simple fact that she was raised to be this monster. Something that he shouldn’t envy, or want for himself at all. But she’d accept his willingness to join them, if nothing for the fact that she would be rewarded for it.
Her boot passing through him, she took for a miss, and instantly turned back around and pulled out her weapon, firing it through where she believed Loki was. As the projection dissipated, she lowered her weapon, stepping back and instantly turning her attention to her surroundings, looking for any sign of his location. Clever.
She put the weapon back, then moved her hand, hard, into the metal shielding above her, knowing full well that the small ship would flood with smoke from the pipe above it within seconds. (Easy fix, and a small price to pay for visual deprivation). Due to her enhancements, it wouldn’t really affect her, not as much as someone who was flesh and blood would be affected by it anyway. Her lungs could handle it & her hearing was more than enough to replace her eyesight. Pulling a sword from it’s place next to the once-broken chair, she moved forward slightly, listening for any signs of coughing or uncomfortableness. Anything that would reveal Loki’s location to her.
The breaking of the pipe was unexpected and very, very resourceful. Innovative. Calculated. This assured the god that Nebula was determined for him to substantiate his usefulness (or die trying), more than any physical advance could. And this was only a test; to be caught in combat with her would prove fatal. She was a product of the Titan, fashioned to be a weapon. A very small part of him thought it almost sad, but he shook free of the feeling quickly–this was neither the time nor the person suitable to be the subject of such emotion. It would only prove to be problematic. He had more important matters to tend to.
To move would give himself away immediately–that was what she wanted, or so he thought; he was more concerned with the possibility of her noticing the movement of the smoke around him than the physical effect that it might have on him. Though the abrasion of space had increased his susceptibility to trauma, he was still a god. The smoke was the least of his worries.
Any of his potential next attacks would require some sort of kinetic disturbance. However, there was a way that he could, in a way, use this to his advantage. Multiplicity would disorient her, which is exactly why he chose to use it.
Numerous duplicates of himself manifested around her, all of whom assumed the same defensive stance, appearing ready to fight. Only his true self remained shrouded, the spawning of the duplicates stirring the smoke everywhere, which allowed him to slip by without the fear of gaining her attention.
He rounded her, coming up behind her, a blade conjured in his hand. The arm of his free hand was brought up to hook around her neck, the action disbanding the clones around them, while the one wielding the blade accompanied it to hover right above her throat. He tightened his grip on her neck slightly.
“Your move,” he challenged in a hushed voice through gritted teeth.
It was Loki’s trick at the end that settled her worries of him, that ensured her decision of bringing him back to Thanos, that made her feel as though he was worthy of such tasks that would be asked of him. Her initial reaction of duplicates manifesting around her was to immediately back away. She sensed that there was something wrong but that was beside the point. She needed to cover her back, so with wide eyes, sword poised, she moved to place her back against the wall, keeping the duplicates at sword’s length. But it was too slow.
She immediately straightened her back, eyes scanning her surroundings as the duplicates dissipated. Damn. Usually, she would answer with an immediate response. A defence. An action that would hopefully cause the God to be put firmly on his arse. But she was done. She had seen enough and while there would be more tests, it was not for her to give them.
“I already know my father will like you.”
See? Nebula could accept ‘defeat’! Only, she wouldn’t call this defeat. She’d call it, enough. His moves were annoying & very effective, and it was enough to see his potential. Even if he would have lost, it was enough to beat into him the talent for greatness. That, and also, the faster she got back to her ‘family’, the better. She had already spent too long away.
She chucked the sword to the ground and placed a finger on the knife, shifting it away from her neck. Gamora would have fun with him. Especially since next time, they would stop when he could physically no longer continue. Not before. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
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