fight club. [ It's a fucking fight club. Nathan can't believe this shit.
He keeps his head down, sticks ringside. Buys a beer and then only takes a couple pulls from it, like it's a prop for his hand, something to add another dimension to his being in case that deep frown on his face isn't doing the job. He watches a fighter with a cybernetic leg painted shock purple get her literal teeth knocked out. After her, some guy with a heavy tribal tattoo gets his shoulder dislocated. Nathan's not subtle about the snort of derision he gives as his eyes cast over the crowd, blank and neutral, finally settling on that box of VIPs. Yeah, of course that's how it is. World hasn't changed that fucking much.
Nathan's tall, so he's sticking near the back, closer to the bar. His voice is just-audible enough: ]
This crap really happens every night?
[ He doesn't sound happy about it. ]
explore the changes. [ His prior escapades are probably how he gets the idea.
There's a little space that's been cleared out in a corner of the safehouse. He's at least done the courtesy of picking a time when people are mostly out, so, you know, if you have a cot in here, find something else to do.
Nathan shakes out his wrists a little. Stands up, then nods to the poor unfortunate soul across the room who he frowned at until they felt sorry for him or some shit and agreed to help him out. No use of the word 'please' was uttered, important note. ]
Hit me.
[ Is what he asks now, but probably didn't mention then. Lying by omission has traditionally been his second greatest strength. ]
I wanna see if I can get it to wake up. [ He gestures at the center of his chest. The blue light, he means. The new— thing he can do, now. It's a fucking process, man. Let him deal with it. There's some shit he has to unpack about this. ]
nathan lowell / original character
[ It's a fucking fight club. Nathan can't believe this shit.
He keeps his head down, sticks ringside. Buys a beer and then only takes a couple pulls from it, like it's a prop for his hand, something to add another dimension to his being in case that deep frown on his face isn't doing the job. He watches a fighter with a cybernetic leg painted shock purple get her literal teeth knocked out. After her, some guy with a heavy tribal tattoo gets his shoulder dislocated. Nathan's not subtle about the snort of derision he gives as his eyes cast over the crowd, blank and neutral, finally settling on that box of VIPs. Yeah, of course that's how it is. World hasn't changed that fucking much.
Nathan's tall, so he's sticking near the back, closer to the bar. His voice is just-audible enough: ]
This crap really happens every night?
[ He doesn't sound happy about it. ]
explore the changes.
[ His prior escapades are probably how he gets the idea.
There's a little space that's been cleared out in a corner of the safehouse. He's at least done the courtesy of picking a time when people are mostly out, so, you know, if you have a cot in here, find something else to do.
Nathan shakes out his wrists a little. Stands up, then nods to the poor unfortunate soul across the room who he frowned at until they felt sorry for him or some shit and agreed to help him out. No use of the word 'please' was uttered, important note. ]
Hit me.
[ Is what he asks now, but probably didn't mention then. Lying by omission has traditionally been his second greatest strength. ]
I wanna see if I can get it to wake up. [ He gestures at the center of his chest. The blue light, he means. The new— thing he can do, now. It's a fucking process, man. Let him deal with it. There's some shit he has to unpack about this. ]