Try as hard as he might to get the doors to close, they just won’t. He reaches over to the switch next to the door, fiddling with the light switch to see if it’ll illuminate the hallway just outside of the cramped office he found himself staying in for the past five days, now. They must’ve found their way into the systems and cut off his ability to do anything he can to fight them off - and his he could feel his heart pounding against his chest.
Mike turns his attention towards the tablet in front of him, trying to see what the time was - and how much power he had left.
14% POWER. 5:20 AM.
Just 40 more minutes. Just a little bit more, he tells himself, but he knows better by now. Without a door to close and without any way to tell if they were standing outside his door with a busted light, he was as vulnerable as they were.
His heart pounds against his chest, and Mike puts a hand up to his chest. He attempts to regulate his breathing as best as he can in the moment, while keeping an eye on the tablet nearby him. Just as his eyes turn their attention down towards it, however, he hears the sound of clanking feet slowly - but at the same time, quickly approaching his office and his eyes widen.
Foxy.
The security guard had focused all his time in attempting to getting the light switch working again and getting the doors to close, he had completely forgotten to check the cameras focusing on Pirate’s Cove. Although he knows the doors don’t work - they won’t close, for some reason, he pushes himself up from his chair and rushes to the door, slamming his hands against the buttons in hopes that a miracle will happen and the doors will close--
But they don’t.
and when Mike turns his attention up towards the doors of his office, wide open, he spots the silver eyes peering into his office and looking directly at him. He takes steps back, holding his breath as the robotic fox quickly makes it’s way into his office and lunges straight for him - it’s monstrous teeth bared, ready to take the killing bite. He stumbles back, having hardly any time to react, and comes to accept what’s about to happen next.
Except it never does, and Mike is sitting himself up in his bed, his chest heaving up and down quickly as he takes a look at his surroundings. Wide eyes full of fear piece together that he’s back in his house in Spirale - and his vivid memory was nothing but a nightmare.
A nightmare of his last, terrifying memory of home before he was dragged to this place.
Oh, lovely. Just the kind of people Loki was ecstatic to learn he was sharing this spirograph spittle of a multiverse holding zone: Thanos and his minions.
What do you even say to one of the lackeys of the Mad Titan? Fancy the weather we’re having? Haha, isn’t it so weird to cross paths here of all places? Please don’t have your master remove me from this and all planes of existence?
Loki was stiff. “Assuming you’re not here inspecting the premises, that crosses off a name on the list of who I thought could have been behind this. For that...” He smiled awkwardly. “You have my thanks.”
Forget about that reserve. I am here to apply Corvus Glaive from Marvel. I had him previously on ca under the same url. However, I'd love to start from scratch with him here.
not at all. even if kovacs himself were, the envoy conditioning in his head would prevent it. envoys are more or less incapable of believing in any higher power, anything beyond what’s patently real and in front of them; be it a superstition, a religion, or even (for example) a revolutionary political calling.
17. Can they paint?
no, although he could probably learn to, at least to some degree. at the very least, kovacs could easily take some time and effort learning how to put whatever’s in his mind onto a piece of canvas. but he doesn’t really have the time or patience for it.
but i think he lacks the patience and the inner drive to really become an artist, in the emotional sense. he could paint a pretty picture with the best of them with a little time and practice; but i’m not sure he’ll ever be able to put his heart and soul into a piece of artwork.
Ogata cuts them regularly as it’d be inconvenient for him to have them long. He doesn’t really think about though, it’s just part of occasional set of habits. They can get dirty sometimes though or stained with gunpowder but generally he washes them if there’s water nearby but doesn’t get bothered if they get dirty - unless ofc they’re drenched in something. Might also just wipe his hands to his cloak.
