The sounds of scuffling combat boots getting closer and the squeaks of lab hazmat suits getting further can be heard steadily into the less soundproof sections of this part of the facility. Racutio's eyes would glow bright as he makes his way down the stairwell, keeping track of all the soldiers, mercenaries, researchers, scientists, experiments, prisoners, and most importantly, the soul in charge of the facility. He'd only close his eyes and smirk maliciously and confidently as the sound of footsteps and equipment rattling, as well as commands being ushered by an over-zealous captain to the other lower subordinates that protect this small mass of concrete, glass, metal, and chemical compounds. To Racutio, this was just another pathetic excuse of a chemistry set made by a bad punch-line of humans who self-proclaim themselves as warriors, and men of science…All of them would eventually learn. The space under his feet would warp and shift visibly, making the stairs look like waves of concrete liquid for a brief moment before a rift opens under his feet and he passes through it feet first, disappearing through the rift as it closes behind him and leaves the stairs warped like some twisted nightmare as a distraction with several weird looking faces inside of the stone in the stairwell under the soldiers feet. It isn't until they make it to where he was, that all at once, they freak out upon running their flashlights over the dark stairs, that the few lower-ranked ones in front instantly turn around and bail over some of their fellow soldiers, knocking others down and creating a mess for the poor captain to yell at.
As the guard in Nixon's cell block makes his way over to the dual sliding doors out of the cell blocks to follow the order over the intercom, a rift would tear open a few feet above his head, but he wouldn't see it, and as the doors open, Racutio would fall soundlessly to the floor on his toes, only before throwing the gun he's carrying over his shoulder by it's strap, and with one swift, blinding fast motion, he'd slide his right foot forward and stance it under his targets ankle that still has not left the floor, still mid-step out of the doors, he'd throw his left arm out and turn at a one-eighty degree angle swiftly, with his eyes glowing bright as some of the soul energy in the air is pulled into what Racutio like's to call, "The Mar'tallian Dropsoul Lariat". Time slowed down, it'd be visible that he made a decent segment of the soul energy in the air increase both the kinetic strength of his blow, but also to accelerate the cells within his own body rapidly, making the blow look like a vibration on the air due to his speed slipping through visibility parameters unless one's eyes were also accelerated to such levels, or could recalculate and process what all happened somehow. As his forearm hits the guard in the neck, the full force would snap the spine in an ear-curdling sound, as the fluids in the spine liquefy and spill out, and then the bones would all split apart at once as the kinetic shock wave hits his whole diaphragm in one split second, causing an even worse sound as all his bones splinter, crack, and snap all at once. Time slowly sped back up, the now mangled rag-doll would hurdle past Nixon's cell animatedly almost with all his limbs twisted through the air. The body would whiz down the cell block hall before finally hitting a wall at the end of the hall, causing him to splatter against the stone and coat the entire white cell block in a fine red mist with bone shards stuck into the walls, floors, and ceiling everywhere down the halls. No skin, no organs, just bones, and bloody mist everywhere that coats the whole hall in a fine bloody coat steadily. Racutio would only stand back up normally and stretch his left arm lightly, loosening up the socket.
"Need to put more force into the next one? Just shut up, Nev'ra…That blow was just fine…" Racutio would clearly be talking to some otherworldly presence at the moment, but it would mostly look like he was just talking to himself. It was very clear he was talking to his obsidian demon arm on his left that made the powerful blow. It isn't often that Racutio openly talks to Nev'ra, but when he does, it's normally to give a smart ass retort back if Nev'ra got too mouthy or out of hand. Racutio would close the rift above his head and walk down the cell block hall, enjoying the smell of blood as he breathes it in, as well as take in all of poor Heckter's residual soul energy to use for later. The mist would steadily spiral and all the blood would seem to twist and spiral like being poured into a funnel, except it would come off the walls, ceiling, and floors that way in steady strands, then in thing yarn strings, then in steady streams, all headed into the demonic blood red glowing tattoos on his left arm. All the blood would eventually disappear into his left arm in a matter of seconds, cleaning the halls of little more than the bone shards that Nev'ra couldn't swallow whole. Racutio would rub the back of his head through his hood right his right hand idly, now standing in front of Nixon's cell door, Racutio would look at it, then he'd close his eyes and concentrate on the soul energy around the engaged locks on the door to his cell. The metal bars holding the doors close would warp, twist, then thin out and turn into a metal wire. Racutio would then merely grab the cell door and pull it off like one would peel a thin plastic cover off of a new phone. He'd then toss the door behind him onto the floor, keeping his eyes to Nixon, he'd only smirk. "Well, look at you…I leave your world for only a little while, and you get yourself into this little predicament. Guards are distracted, and the researchers are moving deeper into the facility. Fae fodder for you." Racutio would look to the walls, then he'd look at the soul of their leader through the walls, filled with black emptiness and gray curiosity and temptations. All too common for a madman, but to him, the soul he sees isn't nearly as overwhelming as the madman he had to kill…In fact, this little man was almost infantile compared to Ecliptoc's, by definition, warped and twisted soul…Racutio would only gain his common, malicious grin, which always appeared on his face whenever the ingenious Mar'tallian got an entertaining idea. He'd look back to Nixon, with the same wicked grin still on his face. "Let's go pay your love-stricken admirer a visit first, shall we? I'm sure he'd love to see the power of a Secta first hand in person, as opposed to the ladder of constantly seeing you through a screen like some sorta weird one-sided porno involving all the shit you've done. And while we're at it, I can demonstrate the more…" He'd only pause and look to the leader through the walls, keeping his general calm by the looks of it, even though his soul shows stress, and signs of delayed yet very detailed and elaborate terror. The poor fool knew he was dealing with something far out of his control, but he doesn't know how far out of his control…
Racutio was going to show him just how out of control he could be. He'd look back to Nixon with only his right side of his grin showing. His signature half-smile when the plan has come together. "...Destructive beings, out there, that people have learned to forget over countless millenia...I think an interior decoration is in order. How about some new doorways? That sound like a start, Nix?" He'd walk past Nixon deeper into his cell, then he'd stop a few feet from the wall. Approximately four and a half feet. He'd loosen up his neck, then he'd flail his arms around in their sockets, making the joints loosen up. He'd go back to standing for a brief second, before swiftly taking a berserker's stance with his left leg forward, and right leg at an angle, ready to charge, while forming his left arm up over in front of him. He'd close his eyes, breathe in, but he wouldn't release his breath. Instead, his eyes would open, glowing brightly in the blood-red hue they were so known for. He'd throw his right foot forward and charge, plowing through the several foot thick concrete cell walls as if they were made of breakaway cinderblocks, but it was very clear this facility has reinforced concrete walls. He'd charge through the concrete like an inhuman drill, smashing away at the stone with his power and momentum, while shaking the whole facility at its core, due to the structural integrity utilizing all of the concrete. Racutio had already seen all the architectural flaws in the facility. He was going to exploit it ALL! And destroy it all to boot. At least, what he knew Nix wouldn't claim…
