Night 52: Rec Field
[from here]This was already further than Sai had gotten the past couple nights, which was saying something. It was getting over the wall that would be the real test, though. The actual act of scaling the brick would be simple, but the night had an odd way of ending before he'd gotten beyond that point. Hopefully the same wouldn't hold true this
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"Oh, poor form, Landel," Mello muttered, even as his eyes widened at how fast and agile the brainwashed, armored bastard was. The Head Arsehole had never played fair, couldn't be expected to start, but. It wasn't fair, letting someone have abilities like that.
If he took time to think, that wicked-looking blade would make mincemeat out of them, so he grabbed Matt's arm and bolted for the wall, dragging him along. Action first, justify later.
There was always going to be some damn thing or other blocking the way to whatever goal he set, he thought as he ran. He was sure of that, and it didn't matter which part of his brain was trying to argue that he should have turned back, or which was accusing him of useless recklessness (that had to be the bugs). He was sick of dead ends and wasted time, of every damn night bringing him no closer to getting out, of never feeling like he'd tried everything he could. He was not willing to wake up wondering if they should have pressed on. They weren't faster than their attacker, but they only had to be faster than the next unlucky prisoners out the door, right?
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"Hah! Is that so?" Sechs asked as he rolled his scruffy head to the side to glare down at his prey, "A stupid-looking grey getup with some goofy smiley face?! Well, I'd say those are the weirdest 'uniforms' I've ever seen yet!"
And once again, the Replica's prey took the coward's way out and made a desperate scramble for the wall. Watching the two stumble and drag themselves down the lawn, Sechs' grin only grew all the more wolfish. There was an excited roar, shortly followed by another dull crunch of the building losing more pieces of its exterior as Sechs leapt into the hunt.
If the two escaping patients thought they had a good head start from their pursuer, they would be proven dead wrong as Sechs thunderously landed into an aggressive crouch before them. There was a sharp glint in his yellow eye and another amused chuckle, before the Replica straightened up and swung his blade forward. The movement of the heavy, folded weapon noisily chopped through the air, before stopping with the tip of its blade pointed just mere inches away from the leading prisoner's neck.
"So... I guess this means you're not fighters then?" Sechs said, the immense blade unmoving from his target, "I have no time for cowards in 'uniforms' who think they can just waltz through my turf!" he growled with a snap of his teeth, "So go back now if you know what's good for ya!"
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His face scrunched into a glare as he watched the guy practically throw his blade in Mello's face. Leering forward, Matt swiped at the sword with the arm not currently firmly held by his friend. "Get that thing out of his face, arsehole! We're not waltzing through anyone's territory - 'cept Landel's."
His eyes narrowed; this situation rang a little too familiar for his taste, and it was finally starting to dawn on him that something wasn't right with this one. "Oi, how much do you want to bet that you're stuck here just like we are, and they brainwashed you t'handle us like this?"
Matt wasn't sure if any sense could be talked into someone with this level of mindfuck, but he was damn sure going to try. Anything to keep them from being obliterated by some mad loon with a blazing temper.
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"Of course he's one of us," he said, ostensibly to Matt, but of course for their attacker's benefit, too. He ignored the whisper that this tactic had already been proven not to work. That German was a git even when he wasn't brainwashed. Someone who was reasonable under it all might be a different story. Or maybe you have to believe you can talk your way out of this, since you didn't have the sense to admit it was hopeless when it would have done you some good.
He adjusted his grip on his flashlight, readying to try to parry an outright attack, just in case. I'll talk my way out of it, because I have to. "Landel's making you do this," he said. "You'll realize it in the morning. You're obviously not weak, but using your skills for the wrong side? Aren't you better than that?" It was the best negotiation tactic he could come up with on the fly: give him the power, as much as it rankled, and play off his readily-apparent pride.
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"Blah, blah, blah! Is that all you crazy pajama kids do is talk and run?!" Sechs barked, as the weapon wielding arm slowly rotated, shifting the crystalline blade into a vertical angle, "You're starting to bore me here!"
The next second brought with it another violent blur of sharpened teeth and metal. Sechs threw back his blade and stomped forward, swinging the flat side of his weapon towards the two patients. A good smacking ought to knock some sense into them!
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But this guy seemed intent on smacking them around with that giant blade of his. What was that about? Why dick around on them; why not just swing, chop, behead? More and more was seeming out of whack - of course, that could very well have just been the drugs making things seem out of whack, but Matt had that good ole gut instinct that that wasn't it. Something was weird about these patients, and it had Landel's name written all over it.
Of course, as he was thinking, Matt never thought to actually duck. The flat side of the blade ended up meeting the front side of his nose; there was a small crunching noise, and he forced himself back, stumbling out of Mello's grip as he silently fell to his butt on the cold grass. The brunet was far too surprised by the attack to make any sort of noise, but, even as the searing pain made its presence known in all areas of his head, Matt had to wonder: Why not just chop the whole damn thing off and be done with it?
The answer that came to him in just the next second seemed just as obvious as the question: Because he wants us alive. Or... whatever this is that simulates life, for some of us.
Somehow, that realization just made him feel less safe.
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He lost his hold on Matt as the other started to go down, and tried to grapple to regain it, tried to scramble out of range, and the blade--how the fuck was it so fast?--connected with his arm, hard enough that the impact juddered all the way up to Mello's shoulder, and fiery pain exploded along his forearm. The flashlight hit the ground, and so did he, awkwardly in a half-crouch, cradling his surely-broken right arm, swearing in frustrated fury in Slovenian. That made the third time he'd reverted to his first language since landing in this hellhole, he thought, irrelevantly, strategy chased momentarily away by pain. But who was counting?
He reclaimed just enough presence of mind to splay his left hand on the ground, ring-up, and to snarl at Matt, "Break it, and fucking get us out of here!"
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The blade struck its mark, sending the two prisoners tumbling over like hapless rag dolls. Withdrawing his heavy blade, Sechs chortled and shook his head at the sad sight. That was too easy! He had barely put any effort into that swing! If he had used his full strength, those two punks would have found themselves flying across the whole field!
Thinking that the two should have learned their lesson by now, Sechs raised his Titan blade once more for another strike. It was time to send these kids back to bed! In its folded state, the weapon reached five feet in height, but that quickly changed when its owner extended its true length with a strident KA-CHAK that echoed throughout the field.
With both of violet blades revealed on each end of a weapon that now suddenly spanned over twenty feet, Sechs gave a sneer to his two targets before striking again. This time a single end of the weapon reached far out towards the patients at a horizontal angle, its blade pointed at an angle as it swept over the grass with the injured youth in its path. If they didn't get out of the way in time, the blade was going to send them flying back into the institute where they belonged, and it wasn't going to be a very gentle ride!
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One hand still covering his nose - which was bleeding now by the way, thanks crazy brainwashed arsehole - Matt planted the other firmly against the grass, shoving himself toward Mello. The other darted out, blood on the palm, but that didn't matter, because in the next second he was grabbing Mello's arm, and his other hand dug through the dirt and the grass for a rock; taking it in his hand, he swung it down, hard, and it smashed the ring just as he grunted, "There!"
[teleporting to here]
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But the blade struck nothing but air and dirt. The towering battle android and petite robot's laughter immediately faltered, perplexed by the lack of impact resonating through the weapon. Blinking, Sechs inspected the spot where the two kids were sprawled over. Nothing! No sign of any damage, blood or anything!
"The hell..?!"
How did they just disappear like that?! One of them was yelling about breaking some stone, but that didn't make any sense! Did those two crazy goons have some sort of power that let them chicken shit their way out of a fight?! The Replica loudly snorted at the empty patch of grass before him. Crap! What a bunch of party poopers! At least now they were out of his territory and out of his face!
Before the Replica's temper could boil over the sudden loss of his prey, Sechs was alerted to more intruders in the field; this time a group of three men were scrambling over the wall. Forgetting the two vanished patients for now, Sechs raised his elongated blade, and smashed the other end of it near the second escaping party.
Maybe these guys would put up a better fight this time...
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