The Few That Remain (IC)

[Ardent]

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goliAth

The man in the biker jacket simply regarded Nova like someone's elbow grew a mouth and started talking. Yet soon enough, his expression grew bored. Raising his gun, he laid its steel mouth delicately upon her forehead. Like the cold, imminent kiss of death.

"No!" The apprentice named Cal placed a restraining hand on the man's shoulder. But it seemed almost like the touch had burnt him, for he winced and pulled back almost instantaneously. Meekly, he tried to reason, "The machine could be useful."

In a manner so deliberately slow it chilled the bone, the man turned to look at the young boy. His eyes gleamed and grew wide with warning.

"Of course I won't waste our precious treasure, my boy. What do you take me for, a fool?"

A pause, followed by the click of the safety catch.

Followed by a single shot, resonating in the dark.

Followed by the slick sound of bullet meeting flesh, meeting blood, meeting sinew and bone; and the barely audible whining of a drunken man, barely conscious to register the injury he had just incurred.

For Goliath was never quite a man of talk. He was a man of brute force.

"That's for the other bottle of whiskey, friend," He spat on Graham's supine figure, whose upper thigh had exploded into a river of red. And then he turned to the machine, bringing the gun to her cheek and slamming her with it hard.

@Sanguine Fox

 

[RaccoonKing]

Nova was certainly silenced by the barrel pressed against her skull as warning bells seemed to screech noisily within her head. It was like a banshee warning her of her impending demise, as Nova knew full well damage to the one organ she had left that made her human would be her ultimate end. Though unneeded, a sharp intake of breath fell from her lips as green orbs stared wearily at the barrel, the fingers upon the functional arm twitching nervously at her side as programming, that she so futilely labelled as instincts, threatened to activate in her own defence. Regardless of her denial, her kind, the Cyborgs, were originally made to be weapons. Yet she was not without morals or emotional capacity - and the lack of control she could exhibit to defend herself scared her far more than the gun.

The development of her panic was hindered by the boys interruption. Though Nova paid little attention to the interaction between the bastard and his little goon, she was relieved of the others intervention. A shudder caused her form to shift, as if exposed to a nasty chill. Yet, Nova had no time to prepare herself when the gunshot rang out - paralyzing her in a way far different from her glitch. If she had a heart, a real one, Nova was sure it would of ceased to function as of that single, echoing noise. For a moment, she awaited the pain she expected - her complicated circuitry could allow that but it was controllable if she was aware.

However, none came. Green eyes slid cautiously, terror filling them, to her saviour and a gasp fell from her lips. "No!" She whispered, though the tone of her voice became more robotic with her shock, static like tones causing it to tremble in an artificial manner. Nova was seconds away from reaching out to her only known associate in this new world but a surge of fiery pain stopped that. Her cheek stung against the hit and her lack of preparedness caused her to stumble away, her body stabilising her before she could fall. The shriek that fell from her lips ceased, silenced, as Nova looked up to the assaulter, her fiery glare illuminated by a neon blue. From her now raised position, it was clear the panels that made her face 'real' had been shattered by hit, unearthing the cables, plates and wires that composed her face. Even the small mechanisms that allowed her to form expression were bore for the others to see and Nova hated it.

She hated this place.

She hated this time.

She hated these people!

Fed up, Nova reached out with her functioning arm - and how she wished both worked right now, to grasp the wrist of the man who not only shot her companion but now added to her list of malfunctions. Her grip slid around to encase the flesh that hid eight small bones, if she remembered correctly. A frown marred her lips, one half of her face reacting slower to form an expression that reflected her mood. Her grip tightened, though she did not go as far as to try inflict harm, as she pushed the weapon previously used to hit her, away from herself. Still, Nova was unable to feel the desire to harm the human as she still saw herself as such! "What. Is. Your. Problem!" Nova punctuated with a venomous hiss, green orbs burning with rage and the wicked glow of her inner circuitry, "He did nothing wrong and you shot him! And you go around hitting people! What the hell is wrong with you! What the hell is wrong with the world for Gods sake!"

@Adrian