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continued from this post because comment limits suck.]
One of the drawbacks of playing as many angles as possible to avoid actual combat is that when one can't wiggle your way out of it, one finds oneself rather out of practice with the entire process.
And when up against a cadre of Black Guards, a moment's hesitation or a minor fumble leads... Well, to this, Castor would suppose.
He manages to shoot off one last blast from his lightcane, derezzing the last drone before his arm's circuits flicker and he's forced to drop to a knee. The pixels leaking from his midsection pool in a puddle of electric blue and white on the floor. It's almost pretty, the way it all sparks and sparkles like that in the omnipresent dark of the Grid.
There's a wheezy chuckle before it turns into a quiet hiss of pain. At the very least, he can say this isn't at all how he suspected it would end. He'd have hated to go out on anything even resembling a predictable note.