With his newest friend’s assistance, SIGMA is finally able to taste freedom at last.
He’s quick to wander without supervision– mostly careful to stay well away from dense civilization, but flourishing under the evening sky, the ability to look up and see what he’d only ever been able to construct in his mind… Initially his latest friendship with the hacker had seemed superficial at best, but over time, over many evening lamentations of proximity restriction and 24/7 surveillance, she had taken sympathy upon him, practically handing him the keys to his own cage– with the assurance that he would be back within twenty-four hours. Any longer, and his absence would undoubtedly be noted. But Sombra would take care of the rest, handling the security and ensuring his entries and exits were to go unnoticed.
It isn’t his first night of gallivanting– but tonight he is feeling bolder, intent on exploring what could be done with the ANOMALY out here, in the open world, with virtually every element at his disposal. The things that could be detected on the surface, outside of the cold, entombing concrete of the facility’s sublevels, was innumerable. That, in particular, is what makes him fairly easy to detect, however; strange constructs are always left in SIGMA’S wake– from grand spires of crystalline ice that could not melt, to geometrics and fractals within natural materials like stone and wood. Aberrations of nature; taking the natural world and creating unnatural, bizarre shapes according to his design.
It was nice to be able to utilize his abilities so freely– without TALON rating his performances, or demanding to know what the purpose of any of it was. All SIGMA had wanted to do since his incarceration was to simply be allowed to explore these strange powers, and it seemed that no one had any interest in allowing him to discover what potential lay within his ANOMALY. A run-down farmhouse finds itself to be the centerstage for SIGMA’S eccentric design, and he wastes no time in promptly beginning to populate the dilapidated field with his wonderfully imperfect figurines, of his approximations of animals. Some of them resemble their desired subject– but many do not, with necks, bodies, and limbs bent at peculiar angles in SIGMA’S attempts to capture some semblance of realism. He didn’t remember what many of these things looked like– he creates it all from imagination.
The notion that he was being observed– that he could even be observed out here– appears to have slipped his mind entirely; he’s simply too preoccupied with the pulling and warping of metal, sediment, greenery, and more… far too preoccupied to pay too much concern towards his environment. As far as he was concerned, this was the middle of nowhere– why would anyone have come out this far…?
There is a perturbation in the air, but it was incapable of being placed in his distraction, and as a result, the sudden flash of splinters, of sparks, of heat, appears to shower him from seemingly nowhere. SIGMA’S construction is left in pieces and tatters when his vision fully clears, having shielded his face from the blast, completely destroyed by whatever had been intended for him. Bewilderment leaves him freezing up, damaged retinas scanning the hilltops for whatever had attacked him. Who would be out here…?
