[ The effect that Ephemera's words have is instant. One moment, Maine's body language is alert but unconcerned. The next, every muscle snaps taut. Tense and furious and ready to lunge forward. Ready to slam the bloody blade of the Brute Shot straight into the other man's chest and push until he carves his way through.
Because it does hurt when Maine swallows. Not physically, perhaps; physically, it's merely a discomfort. But that discomfort and wrongness and loss dig at his mind, gouging holes in the psyche of a man who thought he was indomitable. A man who has thrown everything he is into becoming strong enough to defeat his enemies.
They're the same holes that, eventually, Sigma would come to fill. The same pain and loss that enabled the A.I. to begin transforming Agent Maine into the Meta.
Maine would like to snap that he doesn't know their names. That he doesn't care about their names. But he can't. All he can do is growl through bared teeth, low and inhuman, as he tightens his grip on his weapon.
Fun fact: as far as Maine's concerned, he outranks Agent Washington. The other man is his friend, but he's still a rookie in Maine's mind. Carolina is another matter entirely — but an understanding with Wash?
Yeah, Maine doesn't give a shit.
But before the Freelancer can move to strike, something big slams into the opposite side of the wall, sending cracks shooting up from the point of impact. Maine's eyes jerk toward it as he steps back, away from both the wall and the other soldier. ]
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Because it does hurt when Maine swallows. Not physically, perhaps; physically, it's merely a discomfort. But that discomfort and wrongness and loss dig at his mind, gouging holes in the psyche of a man who thought he was indomitable. A man who has thrown everything he is into becoming strong enough to defeat his enemies.
They're the same holes that, eventually, Sigma would come to fill. The same pain and loss that enabled the A.I. to begin transforming Agent Maine into the Meta.
Maine would like to snap that he doesn't know their names. That he doesn't care about their names. But he can't. All he can do is growl through bared teeth, low and inhuman, as he tightens his grip on his weapon.
Fun fact: as far as Maine's concerned, he outranks Agent Washington. The other man is his friend, but he's still a rookie in Maine's mind. Carolina is another matter entirely — but an understanding with Wash?
Yeah, Maine doesn't give a shit.
But before the Freelancer can move to strike, something big slams into the opposite side of the wall, sending cracks shooting up from the point of impact. Maine's eyes jerk toward it as he steps back, away from both the wall and the other soldier. ]