"Did you ever think that maybe there was a reason for why I've said those--" And, in the mirrors, Garrus cut himself off, just as surprised as his reflection by what was in B-Floor hall. However, instead of the rage his reflection felt, something like relief took over in him. Maybe now... this could end. And no one else would get hurt because of what he'd done.
The reflection shook. Every synthetic muscle fiber twitched in anger. How dare these fools trap it like this? How dare they try and stop it? Didn't they care? Didn't they see? It was punishment. It was judgment. And coming at it with... what was that? A broom?
Pathetic.
It leveled the pistol at the man wearing the ridiculous suit. What was that supposed to protect? The limbs were wide open. It fired off a few quick shots before turning its attention back to the woman, and once more opening fire on her.
Back in the mirror, Garrus was shouting at them, trying ineffectively to get Dylandy down before he was hit. He didn't worry about Aran--she was capable of dodging, he'd seen. But the other... he had no idea. Firo had already been hurt. No more.
Samus' reflection was, indeed, capable of dodging, although she was momentarily distracted when the shots broke out, moving her arm canon in front of Lyle momentarily to deflect a bullet that was heading toward his heart. Although she knew it wouldn't connect - between what he wore and the rules reflections operated under - she was still a protector. She hadn't brought Lyle here to put him in danger. She had brought him here to make a point.
The shots moved to her, and she curled up, in a somersault pose, almost tight enough for it to be a suitless Morph Ball, and rolled away faster than a human would have been capable of, springing to her feet when she was certain she had a fair enough distance between herself and the Garrus-reflection's line of fire. She leaped back to her feet, as easily as she would have if she'd been wearing her suit and come out of Morph Ball, her arm cannon already charging bright blue, the color of the ice beam.
She didn't have time to charge it fully. That would take three, maybe even five seconds. She didn't have that long. Leaving it half-charged, she released the frigid pulse in the direction of the thing that claimed to be the true Vakarian.
The shot was almost heard before it was seen and Lyle was in the middle of trying to tuck by the time that he realized that the shot had been deflected. He blinked at Samus's reflection in relief, gratitude, and no small amount of surprise before bolting down the hall. If he stayed in the thick of things he would only be a hindrance and that was the last thing he wanted. Sliding to a stop in front of one of the doors he had access to (Samus's, ironically enough), he flung it open, intending to use it as a shield and a bunker while he watched things unfold.
His eyes locked on the skirmish again just in time to see the charge of ice beam being fired off in the direction of Vakarian's reflection. Nervous eyes flicked towards the Turian, trying to anticipate what he would do.
Why the hell was Dylandy even here? Garrus hadn't started trying to work with him again, only to have some bizarre Saren incarnation of himself kill the man. He tried the glass again, raking shortened talons over it, and ignoring the relief when the shots bounced harmlessly off of Aran's weapon, and the door. Relief wouldn't help him get out of here.
Meanwhile, his reflection hadn't so much as batted a mechanized eyelid. All it did was twitch its torso sideways, presenting a smaller target. The shot hit it square in the shoulder, crystallizing the joint, and the entire limb.
That did give it pause. Snarling, the reflection grasped its frozen arm, and in one smooth motion, tore the robotic limb clean off. No longer speaking, no longer making any sound except for animal growls of rage, it continued to advance down the hall, making for a door.
Samus' reflection barely flinched as the Turian's reflection snapped off his own frozen limb. She was already charging the ice beam again, this time working toward a full charge. She kept her eyes trained on him, ready to intervene if he got too close to Lyle.
...and behind her, Samus was pounding on the glass again, trying to smash it with her own arm cannon. Lyle shouldn't be involved in this at all. Putting him in the path of danger was exactly what she feared would happen if she got too close to him. And briefly, her banging paused, as it all started to make sense in her mind: in harm's way was exactly where the reflection wanted him to be. And to support her, no less. If he was there, he would see for himself just how dangerous it was to be around her, to be close to her.
The reflection didn't seem alarmed by the banging, by the sudden feeling she got that her original had finally figured out her point. She focused on the retreating Turian form, releasing the fully charged shot directly at his back.
Unlike the others, Lyle did flinch at the limb being pulled off. That just was not something you saw every day, although that small, petty part of him was glad to see the reflection lose its limb like that. Maybe the head could be snapped off next.
He did not spend much time dwelling over this because, not-unexpectedly, the Turian was headed for him. Well, that was more or less why he had chosen to station himself where he did, though it belatedly occurred to him that Neil's room would have been the better choice, since Samus's open invitation to those seeking sanctuary in the asylum would prevent the door-locking rules from doing him any good. Whoops. He ducked behind the door even further and looked around to see if anything was close by that could be used to barricade it if need be, though not before he caught Samus's frantic pounding. Damn. If only he had something decent to defend himself with this would be easier on all involved.
As far as the tearing of limbs was concerned, Garrus was personally with Dylandy, even if he couldn't express it. He hadn't enjoyed seeing Saren explode into a thousand pieces the first time it happened, and this time was no different. He knew where the reflection was going, and there was no way it was ending well if it got there. He redoubled his efforts.
Before it reached the door-turned-bunker, the reflection veered off sharply, heading straight for a door not too far away. But not before it fired again, taking careful aim for vital areas of the woman--her head, limbs, chest. The man was just a distraction, just something to get in its way.
When it turned, it took the blast full in the back, knocking it sideways and into a wall. Armor and metal broke off in huge pieces, while spines and talons shattered. A broken shell lay against the wall, sparking crazily.
And then, it stood up, making jerky, staggering motions. Sightless eyes stared down the hall, its broken and jawless mouth finally silenced as the automaton continued to try and carry out its mission.
The only comfort that Samus had in the mirror, small though it was, was the fact that her reflection seemed unwilling to let any sort of harm come to Lyle. It didn't excuse her decision to bring him here in the first place, and if she could have, she would have punished the thing that claimed to be her reflection for it. Yes, it was a lesson Lyle needed to know, but not in this way. Samus would never intentionally bring someone into danger.
But the reflection, as she was shot at, exercised her super-human speed, executing a spin-jump as the barrage of bullets started, energy crackling around her that made Samus gasp inside the mirror. She was actually using the Screw Attack, and without the suit no less. But she didn't aim for Garrus' reflection with it, as Samus herself would have done. Once the hail of gunfire ended, she landed in a crouching position, two bloody, vicious wounds on her left upper arm, trailing blood that was silver blue and glowing and made Samus worry for a moment if it was truly active Phazon.
The reflection raised the cannon again, and it looked too heavy for her weakened frame to support, especially now that she was no longer able to steady it with her left arm. Her eyes were blazing, and there was an audible mechanical click before she started charging up the cannon, this time with a plasma beam, aiming it straight for the twisted excuse for a turian's abdomen.
It was not just the reflection's insistence that he bear witness that kept him watching the proceedings rather than ducking in the room completely. A morbid sort of fascination, trainwreck syndrome, he supposed, kept his attention riveted on the cyborg as it pulled itself up into a herky jerky stagger, despite having substantial chunks blown off. It was like the sort of sci-fi horror that gave him nightmares as a kid.
His gawking only doubled when he saw Samus's reflection execute a move that he had only heard described before. Huh. So that's how it worked. Once the display was done and the girl landed, he could hardly say who was worse for wear, her or the Turian. He knew he would not have much time to mull it over, however, because that clicking clearly meant 'fire in the hole'.
It kept moving forward, spindly arm outstretched, head lolling drunkenly on a half-broken neck. Pale fluid oozed from every scrape and burn.
But then, with a speed that should have been impossible, it reversed course, lunging for the woman. The remaining arm reached out, aiming to crush her to it, the weapon pinned between them. It was as if it knew there was no walking away, that this was the end. And was determined to take the other reflection with it.
It appeared to pant, exposed ribs heaving, and eyes staring so blindly.
"You... are in... my way..." it snarled in its ruined voice.
The other, much smaller reflection tumbled to the floor, unable to counter his great speed with her own. She hadn't known he was capable of that. A foolish mistake, and one she would likely pay for. But unlike him, she'd never intended to survive the fight, had no real desire to stay in this world where she knew she didn't belong. She just wanted to take him down, and whether it was with her or before her, she didn't honestly care which.
But the way they fell was fortuitous for the small, already broken reflection. The arm, encased in its cannon, had been lodged directly into the opened gap in his abdomen. Even charging it would damage him, an when she fired...
She began charging the plasma beam once more, eyes blazing now, bright enough to almost make her entire face seem as if it were glowing. "No," she said through gritted teeth, still focusing on the charge. "Right now, you're in mine." And with that, she fired.
It jerked, tearing at her with its remaining teeth, pulling its arm free to dig its talons in and rip apart whatever it could reach. The woman was still in its way. On the ground or not, weapon in its guts or not, it still had to fight, still had to keep going until every last shred of its mechanical existence was ripped away.
Which was, more or less, what ended up happening.
The blast reduced it to nothing but a smoldering, shrieking pile of scrap metal and wire. At that same moment, a more sane, and slightly more bruised turian form came literally tumbling out of a mirror.
That was... well, it might have been cool and really badass, but it was mostly horrifying. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lyle stepped out from behind the door and eyed the wreckage that was once Saren-Garrus. He shuddered slightly, before looking over first to where the Turian had landed then to where Samus's reflect was stationed.
"Is... everyone going to be okay?"
The question sounded a little lame after he had voiced it, but he really was not sure where to get started on seeing to everyone.
Although things had gone more or less as Samus' reflection had planned, she did not come out of it unscathed. Aside from the still-bleeding bullet wounds on her left arm, there were now claw marks on various parts of her chest, her shirt torn so that all that remained was enough to maintain modesty, and what was left stained with the remains of the mirror that had died on top of her.
Her movements were unsteady as she slowly, carefully pulled herself back to her feet. The glow in her eyes had dimmed. In fact, it was starting to fade, perhaps betraying just how bad off she was at the moment, but still she stood, first looking over at Lyle to make sure that he was unscathed, and then over at Garrus. The arm cannon looked like it was going to pull her back to the floor any second now, glowing silver-blue blood dripping off of her and onto the existing mess around where she stood.
It took him a while to realize he'd been freed. Stupidly, Garrus stayed sprawled where he was, staring down at the tiles. His hands splayed and fisted, shortened talons barely making a sound on the floor. In truth, he didn't want to look up and see those two. How did he explain.... this?
Finally, he stood, movements no less jerky than his reflection's had been. He could still see it, lurking in the mirrors, but now he knew to stay away. Even so, a growl built up in his throat.
"I'm..."
Garrus cut himself off, staring at the battered woman in the hall with them. Blue blood? Asari? What the hell--
"She needs medical attention," he said. "Dylandy, towels. Go get them." Yes, it was an order. Feeling out the situation, explanations, those could all come later. Now they just needed to fix up this stranger.
Lyle had been making his way over to Vakarian to lend the man a hand up. However, when the Turian shot off the order to fetch towels--well, a small part of him bucked against the fact that he was being ordered, but most of him realized the importance of it. He merely raised his eyebrows slightly at Vakarian before heading back through the door from whence he had just come.
When Lyle emerged not long after, he bore one towel that had been soaked in hot water, a similarly soaked hand towel in one hand and a dry towel as well as a bottle of hooch for disinfectant in the other. The handcloth was tossed to Vakarian (an odd little bit of rebellion, since the Turian hadn't mentioned that in his orders) to treat the any wounds gained when he was in the mirror. When Lyle reached Samus's reflection, he held up the damp cloth without yet touching her. He had found that sudden movements weren't good around this one.
"I'd say this may sting a little, but I'm pretty sure you've felt worse."
The reflection shook. Every synthetic muscle fiber twitched in anger. How dare these fools trap it like this? How dare they try and stop it? Didn't they care? Didn't they see? It was punishment. It was judgment. And coming at it with... what was that? A broom?
Pathetic.
It leveled the pistol at the man wearing the ridiculous suit. What was that supposed to protect? The limbs were wide open. It fired off a few quick shots before turning its attention back to the woman, and once more opening fire on her.
Back in the mirror, Garrus was shouting at them, trying ineffectively to get Dylandy down before he was hit. He didn't worry about Aran--she was capable of dodging, he'd seen. But the other... he had no idea. Firo had already been hurt. No more.
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The shots moved to her, and she curled up, in a somersault pose, almost tight enough for it to be a suitless Morph Ball, and rolled away faster than a human would have been capable of, springing to her feet when she was certain she had a fair enough distance between herself and the Garrus-reflection's line of fire. She leaped back to her feet, as easily as she would have if she'd been wearing her suit and come out of Morph Ball, her arm cannon already charging bright blue, the color of the ice beam.
She didn't have time to charge it fully. That would take three, maybe even five seconds. She didn't have that long. Leaving it half-charged, she released the frigid pulse in the direction of the thing that claimed to be the true Vakarian.
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His eyes locked on the skirmish again just in time to see the charge of ice beam being fired off in the direction of Vakarian's reflection. Nervous eyes flicked towards the Turian, trying to anticipate what he would do.
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Meanwhile, his reflection hadn't so much as batted a mechanized eyelid. All it did was twitch its torso sideways, presenting a smaller target. The shot hit it square in the shoulder, crystallizing the joint, and the entire limb.
That did give it pause. Snarling, the reflection grasped its frozen arm, and in one smooth motion, tore the robotic limb clean off. No longer speaking, no longer making any sound except for animal growls of rage, it continued to advance down the hall, making for a door.
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...and behind her, Samus was pounding on the glass again, trying to smash it with her own arm cannon. Lyle shouldn't be involved in this at all. Putting him in the path of danger was exactly what she feared would happen if she got too close to him. And briefly, her banging paused, as it all started to make sense in her mind: in harm's way was exactly where the reflection wanted him to be. And to support her, no less. If he was there, he would see for himself just how dangerous it was to be around her, to be close to her.
The reflection didn't seem alarmed by the banging, by the sudden feeling she got that her original had finally figured out her point. She focused on the retreating Turian form, releasing the fully charged shot directly at his back.
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He did not spend much time dwelling over this because, not-unexpectedly, the Turian was headed for him. Well, that was more or less why he had chosen to station himself where he did, though it belatedly occurred to him that Neil's room would have been the better choice, since Samus's open invitation to those seeking sanctuary in the asylum would prevent the door-locking rules from doing him any good. Whoops. He ducked behind the door even further and looked around to see if anything was close by that could be used to barricade it if need be, though not before he caught Samus's frantic pounding. Damn. If only he had something decent to defend himself with this would be easier on all involved.
A gun, a gun, his kingdom for a gun.
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Before it reached the door-turned-bunker, the reflection veered off sharply, heading straight for a door not too far away. But not before it fired again, taking careful aim for vital areas of the woman--her head, limbs, chest. The man was just a distraction, just something to get in its way.
When it turned, it took the blast full in the back, knocking it sideways and into a wall. Armor and metal broke off in huge pieces, while spines and talons shattered. A broken shell lay against the wall, sparking crazily.
And then, it stood up, making jerky, staggering motions. Sightless eyes stared down the hall, its broken and jawless mouth finally silenced as the automaton continued to try and carry out its mission.
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But the reflection, as she was shot at, exercised her super-human speed, executing a spin-jump as the barrage of bullets started, energy crackling around her that made Samus gasp inside the mirror. She was actually using the Screw Attack, and without the suit no less. But she didn't aim for Garrus' reflection with it, as Samus herself would have done. Once the hail of gunfire ended, she landed in a crouching position, two bloody, vicious wounds on her left upper arm, trailing blood that was silver blue and glowing and made Samus worry for a moment if it was truly active Phazon.
The reflection raised the cannon again, and it looked too heavy for her weakened frame to support, especially now that she was no longer able to steady it with her left arm. Her eyes were blazing, and there was an audible mechanical click before she started charging up the cannon, this time with a plasma beam, aiming it straight for the twisted excuse for a turian's abdomen.
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His gawking only doubled when he saw Samus's reflection execute a move that he had only heard described before. Huh. So that's how it worked. Once the display was done and the girl landed, he could hardly say who was worse for wear, her or the Turian. He knew he would not have much time to mull it over, however, because that clicking clearly meant 'fire in the hole'.
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But then, with a speed that should have been impossible, it reversed course, lunging for the woman. The remaining arm reached out, aiming to crush her to it, the weapon pinned between them. It was as if it knew there was no walking away, that this was the end. And was determined to take the other reflection with it.
It appeared to pant, exposed ribs heaving, and eyes staring so blindly.
"You... are in... my way..." it snarled in its ruined voice.
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But the way they fell was fortuitous for the small, already broken reflection. The arm, encased in its cannon, had been lodged directly into the opened gap in his abdomen. Even charging it would damage him, an when she fired...
She began charging the plasma beam once more, eyes blazing now, bright enough to almost make her entire face seem as if it were glowing. "No," she said through gritted teeth, still focusing on the charge. "Right now, you're in mine." And with that, she fired.
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Which was, more or less, what ended up happening.
The blast reduced it to nothing but a smoldering, shrieking pile of scrap metal and wire. At that same moment, a more sane, and slightly more bruised turian form came literally tumbling out of a mirror.
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"Is... everyone going to be okay?"
The question sounded a little lame after he had voiced it, but he really was not sure where to get started on seeing to everyone.
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Her movements were unsteady as she slowly, carefully pulled herself back to her feet. The glow in her eyes had dimmed. In fact, it was starting to fade, perhaps betraying just how bad off she was at the moment, but still she stood, first looking over at Lyle to make sure that he was unscathed, and then over at Garrus. The arm cannon looked like it was going to pull her back to the floor any second now, glowing silver-blue blood dripping off of her and onto the existing mess around where she stood.
"Mission completed," she said evenly.
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Finally, he stood, movements no less jerky than his reflection's had been. He could still see it, lurking in the mirrors, but now he knew to stay away. Even so, a growl built up in his throat.
"I'm..."
Garrus cut himself off, staring at the battered woman in the hall with them. Blue blood? Asari? What the hell--
"She needs medical attention," he said. "Dylandy, towels. Go get them." Yes, it was an order. Feeling out the situation, explanations, those could all come later. Now they just needed to fix up this stranger.
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When Lyle emerged not long after, he bore one towel that had been soaked in hot water, a similarly soaked hand towel in one hand and a dry towel as well as a bottle of hooch for disinfectant in the other. The handcloth was tossed to Vakarian (an odd little bit of rebellion, since the Turian hadn't mentioned that in his orders) to treat the any wounds gained when he was in the mirror. When Lyle reached Samus's reflection, he held up the damp cloth without yet touching her. He had found that sudden movements weren't good around this one.
"I'd say this may sting a little, but I'm pretty sure you've felt worse."
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