A screaming, shapeless, blurred mass of brown is hurtling out of the sky and heading directly for the Nexus floor. The limp, tumbling figure suddenly makes contact with the ground, emitting a resounding, earsplitting smack. However, this person is not smeared across the ground like a bug on a windshield, nor is he dead--lucky enough to be protected
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"Fear not."
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"Where is this place?"
He asks this while staring in a completely random direction, shaking some. It's too blurry for him to tell exactly where this speaker is.
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The cyborg sits down. "Everywhere...and nowhere."
Really. Be glad you're alive, son.
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"...Limbo?!"
He speaks the word out with a little bit of a strange stress on the 'i', likes something of a distressed gasp. The fallen king is having something of a moral struggle, wondering if he can blame his actions in the last three hours or so on temporary insanity.
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"No...no...I don't want to be here. I can't be here!"
Romuska is just a tad off his rocker, very fragile--and now he's teetering just on the edge on having some sort of episode. He stands up and backs up a bit--he needs to get out of here. He looks around frantically for a moment, and shakily pulls out his little blue book, which somehow managed to stay in his pocket all 20,000 feet. He's flipping through the pages with a massive amount of focus even through his uncontrollable trembling. You've got to appreciate his ability to even hold the thing.
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"Calm yourself." There is a silent 'or else' at the end of that sentence. "You wouldn't want to face the end like this."
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"FINE! Let judgment come to me while I'm smiling--It's funny, really. Who will pass it? That girl? The queen? she seems to know everything! I am an innocent king, it was her stupidity and greed that brought me here. I did nothing that would merit a ticket to the fires of hell."
He starts rambling incoherently about dreams and failure, floating castles, pigtails and children, as if he wasn't making zero sense already. After a moment, he remains still, and lets out an odd sigh, letting his arms drop to his sides. He sounds quiet and defeated.
"I...I'm sorry. I was wrong..."
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"I...I'm sorry, I'm not sure what came over me."
He breathes deeply. Surely, he did not acquire the tendency to switch personalities? It's a troubling thought. He grips the tiny book (tucked safely back into his pocket) for comfort.
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Hank sweeps his hand in a demonstrative gesture of the Nexus.
"It seems you have been granted grace."
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"I never even knew I had one, until now."
Leading the life of a cruel, heartless bastard will do that to you. Somehow, deep down, he thinks he deserves punishment, but is for the most part relieved that he isn't actually going to burn for all eternity. Who wouldn't be?
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This will not be successful. Muska's a little more than a couple cards short of a deck.
"I really don't need to think about those things right now."
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He considers this. What should he do?
"...Are there weapons shops around here?"
It's asked without an ounce of bad intent. He manages to sound scared.
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