paradisalost | 𝜯 ten

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𝜯 ten

Wilderness Filter

[Meta may look relaxed outwardly, sitting on the stump, journal open on his lap, unmoving as he records the more interesting dictated entries into his audio logs for future reference. Beneath the surface, however, under the helmet, the AIs are all but still. Speculation, anticipation, and strategy. Giddyness and a resounding, malicious patience.]

[At this point he was only paying peripheral attention to Amy, seemingly to have forgotten her at the moment. He purred, deeply, as something in the journal caught his attention. ]

[His guard was down. Or, it was misdirection. It could also be that he just didn't believe Rory to be any sort of challenge, and hardly worth the effort of posturing. Whatever the driving force behind it, that was the scene that Rory would find.]

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[A rumble in the purring, flexing his grip on her arm,]

You know what we want.

[seriously, she's not going anywhere, not even now that Rory's arrived. She knows better than that by now. Plus, the Meta's really the only thing keeping her upright--she's half-sagging into his grip.

She looks too pale to be entirely healthy, the cast on her arm is partially broken open, and there's blood leaking through her hospital gown, but just seeing Rory brings a significant amount of spark back to her face. But she doesn't speak, fearful of incurring more of the Meta's wrath]

[his eyes dart briefly to hers, and there's fear and worry for her in them, but then he's focused back on the Meta. The other man's words are both terrifying and confusing; Rory had been afraid that this is what it would be about. He has no clue how to fix things so no one gets hurt.

He shifts his weight carefully to a more balanced position]

I already told you ... ['don't let your voice shake'] ... I can't just take it off and give it to you. It's--it's my hand.

[Snarling,]

We can help with that.[and with one fluid motion he's chucking the mace at Rory's head and shoving Amy behind him.]

[He's not at all worried about a shot from Rory, either. Before, it had been at point blank range and he'd been under powered, but here, now, his overshields are fully charged, and he had all his enhancements available to him.]

[Amy stumbles back, then promptly falls on her ass and stays there, reflexively blurting]

Rory!

Woah--!

[Rory's eyes go wide and he instinctively ducks; the mace goes flying right over his head and hits the ground behind him with a loud 'thunk', the spikes burying themselves in the soft dirt. He gets to his feet with his mouth hanging open, spins around to gawp at the mace, then back at the Meta. He can just barely see Amy behind him on the ground, and a surge of bravery and protectiveness hits him.

Stumbling backwards, he snaps the hinge on his hand shut grabs the handle of the mace with both hands, yanking at it. It takes two tries before the weapon pulls out of the ground; Rory hefts it in front of him and steps forward again, that uncanny feeling of deja-vu hitting him. Time to try again]

Let her go! [waves the mace threateningly] If it's me you want, she hasn't done anything to you. Just--just let her go and we'll work this out ... somehow ...

[Growling, pulling down his battle axe and stepping forward, now that his prey is this close he has more or less completely forgotten about Amy,]

Yes, lets 'work this out' [And here he comes, running at you with the battle axe.]

Rory--

[she chokes out, her very real heart leaping into her throat. He might be a super plastic robot now but he's never been a fighter, she doesn't see any reason for that to have changed]

--don't--

[she can't see any way to help him, or hinder the Meta; she doesn't want to be That Heroine but she hurts too badly to move fast at all]

[he hears her shout, but things are moving too fast for him to respond. With a yell that's half-terror, half-challenging roar as the Meta barrels down on him, he--instinctively, again--raises his mace to block the incoming attack, and it really does feel like Venice all over again, except ten times worse.

The clang and rattle of the two weapons meeting nearly rattles the teeth right out of his plastic head and he strains to push back and fend him off. This can't, won't end well; Amy's right, he's not a fighter and never has been.

Not while he was alive, anyway.

Because something like muscle memory is taking over, more than instinct, and it's like watching someone else fight as, with a grunt, he suddenly pushes back against the Meta and swings his mace down, bringing both it and the axe down to the ground. Then he's pulling the mace back to wield in front of him and backing up several paces into a defensive stance, blinking in vague confusion. His eyes focus on Amy again]

Amy--run!

[So, his prey has bite. Meta's not sure for a moment if he should be annoyed that this is turning out more toublesome than he'd expected, or pleased that it would at least be a little challening.]

[He goes with annoyed, swinging the axe up with a sharp snarl]

[but Amy's frozen where she fell, both in pain and, now, amazement. How did Rory know to swing that mace like that? For a moment, he'd actually looked like a born warrior! She blinks, shaking her head slightly in case her vision needs clearing, but the sight remains, and she struggles up to her knees]

I can't! I--

[and she winces, the metallic taste of fear coating her tongue, as the Meta snarls and she sags to her left. Oh god, she hurts. Her stomach's burning and her arm is burning and her head is swimming and SHE CAN'T JUST SIT HERE BUT--]

--you run!

Edited 2010-09-19 21:52 (UTC)

What?! No!

[he shouts it incredulously, like she's gone mad, and raises the mace to block and parry the Meta's second attack]

I'm not leaving you!

[he yelps sharply when their weapons clash again and he's forced backward another few feet--that had been too close for comfort. He knows where his sudden skill (if it could be called that) is coming from: memories from his non-life as a Roman soldier. He'd never used a mace but he'd been relatively skilled with a sword ... thus it seems he's recalling basic swordsmanship.

So have a basic offensive swing back, Meta]

[Meta throws up a hasty block with his forearm, the overshields shimmering gold for a moment with the impact. He snarls viciously, getting more and more aggravated by what he had assumed would be an easy target.]

[He swings the axe down again, grabbing the second mace with his free hand. He's done holding back.]

[Rory's eyes widen at the golden shimmer; a hit like that should have at least fractured the Meta's forearm, even with armor. Maybe. He has no idea what that armor's made of. And now he's drawing a second weapon. Oh, shit.

He jumps back out of the way from the axe swing, not even bothering to block; he has the sinking feeling that this is about to go downhill fast. He can barely keep up with the ferocity of the Meta's attack and, even if he won't tire out, he won't get by on luck and half-remembered fighting skills forever. That makes his only concern now to draw the Meta as far away from Amy as possible.

Redoubling his grip on the mace handle and swallowing, he backs up several more paces, tensing for the inevitable charge]

[Such is the beauty of Mjolinar armor, overshields, and someone with an insane pain tolerance.]

[Meta does charge, making all the noise of a rabid dog, launching the other mace towards your left and swinging the axe right, hoping to catch you one way or another]

[Amy's horrified by the Meta's attacks, and astounded by Rory's defense, and terrified that he'll get--not hurt, she supposes, but damaged--oh god that's awful--

She scrambles for something weighty to pick up, anything--a stick, a rock, even a fucking pine cone will do--finds a stick, and throws it as hard as she can at the Meta. Which, currently, is not all that hard]

OI! Leave him alone! He told you he can't give it to you, it's his HAND! It's just a stupid gun anyway!

[screams]

Amy, no, don't--

[but there's a mace flying at his feet and an axe swinging at his head and he only has a split second to react and no way he'll dodge both of them--

He reflexively jumps to try and miss the mace but the handle catches his ankle and knocks his legs out from under him, flipping him face-first hard into the ground. His nerve receptors register 'pain' but thank god it's not real pain and thank god he doesn't have lungs, or else the breath would have just been knocked out of him.

As soon as he hits the ground he's rolling to his left just in time to miss the axe and--with a yell--swings the mace back up to block a second swing. The Meta is way too powerful, more than he can handle, and his arms are shaking with the effort of pushing back against him--and without even thinking he's rocking back, lifting up both legs and kicking his feet into the Meta's chest in the hopes of getting him off for even a second. He's dead if he stays on the ground]

[Amy's stick .... doesn't even really register. It could have been a log and it probably would have had a similar effect.]

[Meta's actually jolted by the kick, more from not expecting it than any lack of force on his part. This thing just wouldn't stop.]

[So, he had to find a way to make him stop. Dropping the axe, he's plunging forward and down and grabbing Rory by the the neck and the leg,]

[It's almost too easy, lifting Rory up over his head, and there's the briefest of hesitations before he takes a step and launches him back towards the camp]

[And then he's grabbing the mace out of the ground, swinging it around almost casually as he steps back into the clearing, the growling on the edge of a purr]

[Okay, maybe she IS That Heroine. Amy screams as Rory flies through the air and hits the ground with a thud, only aborting a move to crawl towards him when she notices the Meta coming back with his mace]

[looks like Rory's That Hero as well, because he's screaming too. He crashes to the ground mere feet from Amy, the mace spinning away out of his hand, and on impact his vision actually fritzes out, like a television temporarily losing signal. Groaning as he struggles back to his feet--his limbs feel sluggish and his nerves are blaring the equivalent of 'RED ALERT'--he blinks rapidly out of habit, like that will clear his vision. It doesn't. The Meta's lurching toward him looking so much like that freaky video from 'The Ring'.

In desperation--he's weaponless now--he drops the hatch on his gun hand and waves it angrily, shouting]

Why do you want it so much? It's not even that great a gun!!

[the same gun he's now pointing straight at the Meta and firing at him with, four quick shots in a row]

[Meta wasn't prepared for him to actually fire, as he'd already blown many chances to do so. The first shot hits him full in the chest, disabling the overshields, the second graces his shoulder, leaving a blackened scorch mark on the white armor housing,]

[But the third and fourth slow to a crawl, inching out as time bends and wraps to Meta's will with Gamma's temporal manipulation unit.]

[Meta steps out of the line of fire, and time returns just as he grabs at Rory's shoulder and elbow.]

[the temporal manipulation unit captures Amy mid-gawp, as Rory. Just shot. LASER BOLTS. Out of his hand. It's the first good look she's had of his gun in action and it's bizarre as hell. And she doesn't even have time to find it sexy that he's gone all macho, because she's too scared.

Then time jumps back to normal and the Meta is RIGHT THERE. Amy shrieks again]

[there's enough time for Rory to register that the second shot got through and that maybe (hopefully, please please please) the third shot will do some damage, when--

--suddenly the last two shots are fizzing into empty air and the Meta's popping back into existence right next to him, armored hands gripping his gun arm hard enough to crush--

--and Rory's snapping his head around to look at him, mouth dropping open in a second of awful clarity.

Oh, shit.

He doesn't even have enough time to say it]

𝜯 ten

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