Who: Pocket System Monitor (
traceurmonitor) and his Bestest Virus Pal (
infectthegrid)
What: Anon learns an extremely valuable lesson in why the lone wolf routine doesn't work. Here there be monsters.
Where: Residential Zone 07, presumably around the Grid section.
When: An indeterminate time after Kevin Flynn gets Clu-napped.
Notes: We are dealing with the huge scary virus
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He could however patrol, up high and out of sight. Perhaps even nab someone for himself. Clu had plenty to play with, to throw into the Game Grid. One or two, he would hardly miss. Besides they would all suffer one way or another, what did it matter how the suffering was created. Just as long as they all felt pain. His pain was preferable, but he couldn't be picky. Clu was to be followed for the time being ( ... )
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That's the last thing on his mind; primary objective still hasn't been completed-
-And an identity disc clips him in the arm, cutting into his arm a ways. Just long enough for him to notice the color. Oh, no. He manages to duck out of the disc's return path, turning to find his old foe as he pulls his own disc out. He does not have the time for this, but he can deal with this quickly enough and get back to the task at hand.]
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You shouldn't be here, Monitor.
[He looks over his disc momentarily, the broken edge sparking slightly. Anon would suffer for everything he did. He'd regret coming here, he'd regret his actions back on the Grid. He would feel all the pain, and it would never end.
Another smash into the ground, this time the virus' disc, sending out waves of energy towards the monitor.]
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Right where I should be.
[Here, opposing Abraxas, with Gibson safely out of the way. He anticipates the ground slam a fraction too late, managing to dash out of the interior of the radius, but getting caught on the edge of it still sends him flying. He slams back-first into the ground, starting to haul himself up to his feet.]
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[He laughs as Anon crashes into the ground, calmly walking towards the Monitor. Just like old times.]
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[Too much like the old days, getting knocked around while everything went to hell around him. Anon has just enough time to scramble back onto his feet, taking a couple steps backwards. Need more space. Enough to throw his disc; he is not going to get into close-quarters melée with Abraxas.]
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[Always running. The Monitor was always scrambling away from him like some little bug, trying to fight for survival. It was pointless, he knew how this was going to turn out. He knew what the future held. It was inevitable. Anon would figure that out very soon, if it were up to him. There would be no escape from this time.
The disc is hardly regarded as he knocks it out of the way, continuing his move towards the Monitor. Trying to close the gap between them.]
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[He'd learned a long time ago that, even though he lost everything else, he would always have his hope. It's what had kept him going for so long; hope that what he was doing would help. Would save the Grid, eventually. He still has it, and he'll still fight for it, even if the station comes crashing down around his ears.
Unfortunately it does not get in the way of facts, like that he has to take two steps for every one that Abraxas makes, or that he is eventually going to get caught because he doesn't run from fights. Not against the virus.
He will keep stepping out of the way for as long as he can, even if it won't stop the inevitable.]
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[He would get his way. Act out his purpose. Infect. Spread. Destroy. The focus of all his attention, majority of his hate, his ire. All set on the poor little glitch of a Monitor. He'd survived long enough. This would end now.
He throws his disc yet again.]
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He lets out a low, staticky growl of determination, slipping into guard stance to block the disc with his own. He knows it slows him down more, puts him within reaching distance, but to keep from getting derezzed, he has to take the chance.]
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The gap was closing, and all for the better. The sooner the Monitor had nowhere to go the better. He'd back him into a corner and it would be too late. With energy coursing through his arm, he lunges forward.]
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He realizes that he's going to end up herded into backing into a wall. Just like prom, except Abraxas is much more dangerous to him than the woman, and he will not escape so easily. Anon brushes off the thought in time to notice that he's being lunged at by his oldest foe and there's no time to widen the gap. Even so he tries to twist out of the way, though it inevitably ends with him being caught. He tried, but the move was just too little too late.]
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It was inevitable, just as he had always said.
His fingers curl around the Monitor's throat, slamming him back into the wall. His free hand grabs hold of one of Anon's wrists, for the sole purpose of keeping him from using his disc. A moment fully meant for a good chuckle.]
I'm going to enjoy this.
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Anon takes a brief moment to blame Clu for picking a bad place to reskin before he's slammed against the wall.
He shakes his head slightly to clear it as he claws at the virus's wrist with his free hand, kicking out and snarling. Even if he's stuck here, with a hand around his throat and unable to get his disc, he isn't going to stop fighting.]
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Why fight it, you've already lost.
[Not that it mattered to the virus. It was amusing either way, satisfying enough that he'd truly enjoy this. Causing so much pain to the Monitor that caused him so much trouble. The Monitor that failed him multiple times, and that he harbored so much hatred for ( ... )
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[Even if he's already lost, he'll still fight. It's all he knows how to do. Fight until everything gave out, until he lost all power and finally dissolved into so many glittering cubes like the original version of himself. So he'll claw and kick and struggle for all he's worth because that is what he does.
To his credit, he isn't going to scream. Not for a good long while... not outloud, anyway. But he's never really been able to hide what he's thinking or feeling. It's broadcast in twitches that aren't in harmony with his struggles, in flinches and in the twist of his body. He isn't a good liar, even when he says nothing at all.]
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