The Loose Cannon
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He cracked his neck, followed swiftly by his knuckles. "This is so much fun." He shook his head in disbelief. "You know, you'd think killing scores of people would get old after a while. Hell, I think I've killed different versions of the same people like...shit man, I can't even count. And a lot of them, coming at me with giant swords...just scoped and dropped. Heh. Never gets old." All on his way to killing every Arya Stark, every little annoying child he could find. All dead for the sins of one.
"...Huh." He just had a thought. It was...a good idea. As much as he appreciated it, he also chastised himself for not thinking about it sooner. It was fucking brilliant! There were many Arya Starks no doubt spread across the endless multiverse and he now had the capacity to reach them.
"Why can't the same be said for me? An army...of moi. The work would be done faster, much faster...Felix death squads. Ha! It has a nice ring to it." He stepped over to the fallen mook, reaching down and ripping his knife out of the guy's skull, absently twirling the blade. "And I'd finally have a partner who fucking gets me. Down to the smallest detail. Someone I could fucking stand. Fucking A! This is genius."
He reached for the back of his armor, withdrawing one of the modified Teleportation Cubes gifted to him by Charon Industries. Clever little bastards. He switched it up from zeroing in on Arya Starks for the moment, instead scanning for his glorious murdering self. And with a flash of light...
He still remained in the same spot. He glanced around briefly, scanning the area. Yes, it was the same. He tilted his helmet down, looking at the ground. "Right down to the bloody corpse!" He kicked the body in annoyance.
"No, you stupid tech! Not "me" me! Other ones of me!" He reached out for another cube, shaking it and giving it a smack before he tried again.
This time was more successful, his surroundings changed... "Better." He growled low, turning and looking for his counterpart.
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