[ Savage and remorseless as he may be, Agent Maine doesn't kill for pleasure. Oh, he enjoys fighting. The rush of adrenaline; the crystal clarity of combat; the red haze of rage that he's allowed to sink into. It makes him feel alive in a way that nothing else does. When he's finally able to release the restraint under which he keeps himself every single fucking day, Maine feels like he's truly human.
But he doesn't kill for pleasure. Doesn't derive any particular enjoyment from the inflicting pain. There's no voice in his head egging him on and whispering all the creative ways he could hurt someone. He doesn't toy with his enemies; he just destroys them.
This man in front of him — this Insurrectionist; this enemy — is someone he needs to destroy. Someone who poses a threat. Someone who's pissed the fury-filled Freelancer right the fuck off.
That comment smarted, indeed. Crawled right under Maine's skin and injected the memory of vulnerability into his veins. Hissed his weakness in his ears.
The enemy wants to hurt him. The feeling is intensely mutual. And Maine doesn't have anyone for whom he's trying to be "better." Wouldn't change who he is — the anger; the aggression; the thrill of combat that his brain is made for — even if he did.
But Maine also has no intention of being crushed by a wall. He knows that he could survive it. He always survives. A bullet to the chest and nine to the neck couldn't stop him; a collapsing wall sure as fuck can't. But that doesn't mean he wants to get crushed.
He looks back to the enemy. Wonders if he can kill the red-and-gray fucker before the wall crumbles. Then whatever's on the other side hits the wall again, widening existing cracks and sending debris tumbling down.
Dammit.
Retreating is something that Maine is honestly really fucking bad at. He can do it if ordered, of course. But on his own? It goes against every instinct he has. All the things inside of him that are screaming fight. So that first step back is a struggle, and one Maine wins only by assuring himself that, if the collapsing wall (or whatever's hitting it) doesn't do the job, he can finish it later.
Maine's not a sadist. But he's not a forgiving man, either.
With effort, Maine draws back. He retreats. He leaves the enemy to whatever's coming through the wall. And if it doesn't finish the man off? Maine will hunt him down and kill him, later. ]
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But he doesn't kill for pleasure. Doesn't derive any particular enjoyment from the inflicting pain. There's no voice in his head egging him on and whispering all the creative ways he could hurt someone. He doesn't toy with his enemies; he just destroys them.
This man in front of him — this Insurrectionist; this enemy — is someone he needs to destroy. Someone who poses a threat. Someone who's pissed the fury-filled Freelancer right the fuck off.
That comment smarted, indeed. Crawled right under Maine's skin and injected the memory of vulnerability into his veins. Hissed his weakness in his ears.
The enemy wants to hurt him. The feeling is intensely mutual. And Maine doesn't have anyone for whom he's trying to be "better." Wouldn't change who he is — the anger; the aggression; the thrill of combat that his brain is made for — even if he did.
But Maine also has no intention of being crushed by a wall. He knows that he could survive it. He always survives. A bullet to the chest and nine to the neck couldn't stop him; a collapsing wall sure as fuck can't. But that doesn't mean he wants to get crushed.
He looks back to the enemy. Wonders if he can kill the red-and-gray fucker before the wall crumbles. Then whatever's on the other side hits the wall again, widening existing cracks and sending debris tumbling down.
Dammit.
Retreating is something that Maine is honestly really fucking bad at. He can do it if ordered, of course. But on his own? It goes against every instinct he has. All the things inside of him that are screaming fight. So that first step back is a struggle, and one Maine wins only by assuring himself that, if the collapsing wall (or whatever's hitting it) doesn't do the job, he can finish it later.
Maine's not a sadist. But he's not a forgiving man, either.
With effort, Maine draws back. He retreats. He leaves the enemy to whatever's coming through the wall. And if it doesn't finish the man off? Maine will hunt him down and kill him, later. ]