towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters:

dualscars and whoever wants to pester him.
Setting: Floor 10.
Format: Starting off with brackets, but I'll match.
Summary: Dualscar copes with the Condesce's decision of equality. Poorly.
Warnings: R for Raging Douche.

Scenario A ⇨

["equality."

for anyone else, the situation that had arisen wouldn't cause as much distress as this. but this is dualscar: so naturally, it affected him ten times worse than was called for. even if many of his theatrics were intentional, a lot of them... were not.

it wasn't the fact that he was, the signless, but more the fact of how. what did the mutant -- no, monstrosity, the mutation was not favorble to his survival in the least -- think he doing in addressing the empress so forwardly?

but then she'd agreed. put him on the same level, thrown away the heirachy completely, and everything that made him better than the other with what he assumed to be a single syllable. he couldn't fathom that they were to be equals in that regard. he didn't want him to be even within the same room as her, building, land, let alone speaking freely to her, and her seemingly not minding it--

it made him sick. a feeling no amount of slaughter could alleviate, no matter the size of the enemy or the viciousness of it or just how slowly he dictated the creatures' demise, it wouldn't let up. the guns aches his shoulder now, the friction of the cutlass in hand rubbing his hand raw. the water feels heavy, not soothing as he'd hoped it would. he swims on, searching for a new target.

but red.

they all bleed fucking red.]

Scenario B ⇨

[ahab's crosshairs leans against the bench, the sword lies bloodied scarlet upon the floor. it spreads slowly across it, intermingling with the spilled salt water, and there is not only red, but drips of rich violet hues as well.

the orphaner sits at the same bench, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. presumably in rest, his bare chest heaving as he catches his breath, tiny rivulets of seawater running down his scarred face, neck, shoulders, swimshorts, legs-- finally to the floor as well.

but there are a few new gashes that momentarily halt him in his brutal excursions. scratches here and there that look to be more of an irritation than anything, but then the most noticable one along the side of his torso. from below his shoulder blade to just barely missing where his gills begin it runs; the wound itself ideep and jagged, swelling with a little more blood everytime he inhales.

not that it's of any more concern to him than any of his other wounds are; this one just bleeding heavily enough so as to need it to stop before he immersed himself in the water again. no need to attract hoards of the unwelcome, after all.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The tenth floor was new to the Albino, many times he'd walked right on past the massive aquarium and never bothered to stop in and look. The suspended water made him wary, especially once he eyed a large barracuda that looked like it could go for a snack.

Trailing his fingers idly along the surface of the water, he made his way around, looking at the different creatures that inhabited the place. Of course in the one tank what did surprise him was the large humanoid fish that seemed to be swimming past. Leaping back he was surprised when he felt himself fall into the tank of water behind him. Flailing around a bit he managed to right himself in the water and look around.]

[well, now, a human in the tank? this was something he'd yet to see. he'd previously seen the man merely observing the aquarium, at times reaching out to touch it, but no more. and dualscar had subsequently ignored him, each evidently preferring to keep to themselves. that is, until the prussian encroached upon his territory.

quicker than thought to be possible (the sea dwellers being the rulers of the sea for a reason), he propels himself to near-proximity of the other-- but no more. his cutlass remains in his hand, ready for use; the crosshairs float eerily behind his back, linked by no more than a simple strap.

one of the reasons he hasn't acted?

maybe humans had some sort of aquatic prowess to them, something he should gauge before doing so. after all, they'd managed to surprise him quite a few times already.]

What do you think you're doin'?

[but to prussia, the most the communication would entail is a sudden expulsion of bubbles from the troll's mouth, much less words to make sense of. it's what happens when one doesn't realize another lacks the mutation necessary to live underwater comfortably.]

[Seeing as Prussia was certainly not aquatic, nor had the ability to breathe or communicate underwater he merely gave the troll a weird look before making a move to get his knife out of his boot. He certainly didn't trust someone with a cutlass in his hand, giving a sharp look as if daring the other to attack him he moved to back out of the water.

Prussia certainly wasn't going to fight a fish, even a troll like fish, he'd fight in air where he could breathe and not risk drowning.]

[well, that answered a few questions. dualscar chuckles at the prussian's unveiling of his knife. mostly because he doesn't see it as doing much, considering its size: and also from what he's witnessed, he assumes humans to be remarkably unskilled with weaponry.

thus, he removes ahab's crosshairs from resting upon his back to into his hands, sheathing the sword beforehand. he aims it at the other, though for now it's more a show of power than anything. despite what the other's already trying to do, his intentions are clear in that he wants him out sooner.]

[Prussia wasn't too sure what the hell the troll had pulled out for a weapon and immediately regretted not bringing his sword with him, seemed he had to constantly have it on him for all the crazies in the tower.

Although the albino isn't afraid, merely gives Dualscar a cocky come-at-me-bro grin. Even though he's at a disadvantage he knows he's barely half a foot in from the edge of the glass-less tank for if he needs to dodge out and get air. Swimming backward his hand breaks out of the tank, the six inch boot knife still being held at the ready in case of an attack.]

[and if prussia wanted a fight (if that grin were anything to go by) then dualscar would be the first to supply it.

but not in the water. if the (apparent) human did have any fighting skill on land, then he doubtful as to how well if would transfer in water. the troll is in his natural habitat: the country? presumably not.

thus he chooses to make himself more clear: he tilts the barrel of the gun away from his former target and then pulls the trigger. the corresponding beam is certainly quite something to behold, if it was the individual's first time in doing so. it shoots straight clear out of the tank, obliterating all life in its way, until it hits a wall a kilometer later and is consequently absorbed.]

[The gun merely amused Prussia and rolled his eyes, his oxygen finally running out he pulled himself from the tank and took a deep breath, shaking the wet hair out of his face. He didn't know if the troll would follow or not so he merely watched the tank.]

[if prussia doesn't show any sign of fear, then dualscar assumes him to be a little slow-- if not that, then at least in dire need of enlightenment. thus, instead of stepping out quite yet, he squeezes the trigger and holds it down. the noise is muffled considerably by the water in which it is submerged, but it's still powerful enough to ripple the water into waves.

he begins to aim the beam toward prussia-- with a deliberate slowness.]

[Prussia rolls his eyes and puts the knife in his boot and pulls his gun out from the back of his pants and aims it directly at dualscars' head.]

Look buddy you're not scaring me in the slightest. If you're looking for a fight get out of the tank.