driftfleet | I came in like a wreeeeecking ball!

Who: Winter & You (poor bastards)
Broadcast: n/a
Action: Iskaulit
When: early am

[ OOC Note: This thread is mainly for closed CR, though new people who want to thread with Winter are willing to participate. Just keep in mind that the end results are predetermined! Personal threads won't be dependent on one another, but if you have any questions about anything, send me a pm or catch me at skorozima on plurk. This is a mod-approved augment glitch, the effects of which will only last briefly.

**Content of thread may hold Civil War compliant material, reader and participator be warned!** ]

[ Beginning;; Meditation Room ]
[ It's early morning, not that it's easy to tell with the endless expanse of starlight outside of every window. Winter finds himself wandering into the mediation room after his morning workout. There's been a general sense of unease that he's been carrying for the past few days, though nothing has appeared out of the ordinary.

It's different than the hyper vigilance he normally suffers from, like a whisper no one else seems to hear. Grabbing one of the cushions, he sits at the far end of the room with his back to the wall. His legs are crossed, hands settling on his legs. A deep, focused breath inwards, held for just a moment before it is exhaled through his nose. This is only the third time he's come to this room on his own, and he really is trying to make it a part of his day. It's still difficult.

Things are silent, save for the normal creaks and groans of the Iskaulit. His head isn't buzzing with activity, and he's almost calm.

Longing.

The word reverberates sharply in his mind, causing his eyes to snap open in search of the voice. There's no one else around, yet the sweet, crooning lilt sounded like it came from right next to him. His heart is pounding against his rib cage.

Rusted.

Winter jerks almost violently. No no no no. Not here. How? his hands slam up to his ears to block the voice out, and the noise in his head increases.

The voice is just as melodious and clear, somehow more prominent, now. A few more words are spoken so sweetly, even as he writhes on the floor with an angry howl. There's no way for it to stop.

Trying to concuss himself doesn't work. The voice sounds almost chiding for his poor attempt.

Then the words stop. Everything stops. And then,

Good morning, Soldier. ]

«Ready to comply.»

[ His limbs feel heavy, but he listens intently for the voice to give him his new mission. The Soldier is ready.

Let's get started, shall we?

Anyone who happens upon Winter in this state will be aware of a few things that are off. His stare is vacant and unsettling; those who met him his first week on the fleet will recognize it. It's certainly not the expression of someone who means you no ill-will. Winter's posture is aggressive and strained like a tightly drawn bow ready to snap. Any sort of verbal greeting is met with silence. ]

[ Middle;; Hallways ]
[ Whoever crosses paths with Winter in the halls is bound to have heard the commotion coming from the Meditation Room. Perhaps one of the unlucky ones made a fleetwide broadcast calling for backup?

Whatever you were doing, you're not going to be getting very far. He clenches his metal fist, the plates shifting to accommodate the movement. His eyes are locked, harmful intent in his expression.

You're next. Be prepared to fight for your life. ]

[ End;; Gym ]
[ While he's done a great deal of damage, he's not looking so hot, himself. At this point, Winter has collected a great deal of injury, though he doesn't seem to notice or even care. There is a mission. It must be completed at all costs..

Even if the metal of his left arm is warped, almost decayed and rusted in appearance. It hangs lifelessly at his side, fingers stuck in a half curled position. He's sporting a gunshot wound in his thigh and his abdomen, still oozing stubbornly. There are a few broken ribs, but that doesn't seem to slow down his rampage much.

At least this way, he'll be easier to subdue. Maybe all he needs is a little cognitive re-calibration. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Allen had been on his way to Crowley's bar, to help check his books as he did every month, when he heard the sound of Winter's footsteps from behind him. The Iskaulit was a busy enough ship that the someone else's presence didn't immediately alert Allen. But the sound of metal plates shifting? Well that's enough to cause him to turn to look.]

Winter? Hey, how are...

[His voice trails off as he sees the look on Winter's face. Full of hostility and void of familiarity. His fist clenching into a fist.]

...Winter?

[ He's made it far enough down the hallway to have changed tactics from slow and steady to take no prisoners. The Soldier stares down Allen, assessing him critically, before making his move.

His stride is purposeful and heavy. No need for him to walk on silent feet when he's been spotted. Subtlety isn't a necessity. The target looks surprised to see him, though not wholly unwelcome. His first mistake. The Soldier cocks his fist, the metal arm emitting a loud, mechanical whir as it rears back, striking out at him. ]

[The strike is nearly a hit. Right as Winter's arm is about to collide into Allen's head, his left arm moves inhumanly fast to block the blow- the sound of metal colliding into something hard rings out. Though even with the block, the force of the punch is enough to throw Allen back- who stumbles back as he tries to regain his footing.] - Gah!

[Shit. Shit. This is bad.]

Winter! It's me! Allen! Snap out of it!

[His mind whirls for an explanation. Had someone set off the HYDRA programming? How? ]

[ The Soldier scowls as his punch is blocked. He doesn't take the time to wonder who his opponent is, it doesn't matter. He'll be incapacitated soon enough. The one in front of him stumbles, and he doesn't give the target time to regroup before he slams The Weapon down full-force again.

The voice sounds far away, static-y. Unnecessary inconvenience. It doesn't matter what he has to say. The arm comes down again. ]

[Not a single bit of response out of him. Yep, this was definitely bad.]

[But Winter really wasn't giving him time to think about the implications here, not with that arm coming down again. Instead, he springs into action - years of training and fighting clicking back in. The metal arm once against collides with his left arm. Except this time, he catches the punch instead of just block, and doesn't stumble back. He holds onto the fist as he gets his feet centered again, any attempts to push against it feel like pushing against a wall.]

[Then after a couple seconds pass? He moves to shove Winter back away from him with force, though it's more the sort of force you'd associate with being hit by a car.]

[ The second time, it's unexpected that someone can actually catch his arm and hold the weight of it. He pushes back, but it's met with solid force. An attempt to pull his fist away is halted when he goes flying back. The breath leaves his chest in a huff as he hits the floor.

The Soldier gets up as if it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, the empty gaze zeroing in on Allen again. He surges forward this time, swiping out at him. ]

[He takes the moment he gets from Winter's landing to center himself, to move into position that'd make it easier to fight. The thought of activating his powers crosses his mind, but he resists the temptation. Winter was not himself right now, but he clearly wasn't a demon. He was still human, and he was still a friend. There was no reason to use his claws on him and risk killing him. So instead when Winter looks at him again, his hands are still fists as he remarks with a forced cheer.]

Ah, what's with that face Winter? It's a little creepy to see!

[And here he comes again. Instead of blocking this time, he darts out of the way of the swipe by jumping to the side. He attempts to throw a kick at his leg. If it hits, it doesn't match the force of the previous hit. The force of someone who's very fit, sure. But definitely not super strength]

[ The target jumps to the side, but he recovers quickly and turns to meet him. A leg catches him in the leg and it makes his knee buckle. Damn that woman..

It doesn't matter, he left her for dead. The Asset scowls, lunging again at his target. He aims a punch with the Weapon. ]

[Unfortunately for Allen, the kick left him open enough for that punch to land. It collides with his shoulder, and he stumbles back. Shit. ]

[ While the target is recovering from the hit, the Asset surges forward. The Weapon rears back again, the high-pitched whine revving as the arm moves back, and lower pitched as he aims once more. ]

[That arm is getting to be a serious pain. This time, it hits him in the side of the face - an act that makes him cuss out in pain. It's been a long while since he's been punched in the face like that.] Shit-

[But before he can go down, he'll grab onto the Weapon by the wrist with his left hand and cling to it. He grips it so tightly, it's like a vice- and this time he's attempting to crush or damage it within his grip. Get it out of the way, and it should be easier to stop him- is his line of thinking.]

[ The target grabs onto the Weapon and he jerks it-- or attempts to. The grip doesn't yield, and the target doesn't budge. Other hand free, he curls it into a fist, fully intending on raining his face with punches until he lets go.

So what if he breaks a knuckle or two in the process? Only a minor inconvenience at best. He's fought through worse. ]

[For the first couple punches, he holds on. He holds on tight and keeps trying to break that arm by twisting and squeezing it. He does so with some success too. The metal whines and buckles as he squeezes tighter as his head gets hit. Were it a normal hand, it probably would've been twisted off by now.]

[But before he can managed to pull that off with the metal arm, the punches to the head get to be too much. He ends up falling to the ground, his arm giving one more strong yank against the weapon before he releases it, to try to make it more immobile. ]

[As soon as he hits the ground, he's trying to move away, to get some distance- trying to ignore the pain his face is in right now]

I came in like a wreeeeecking ball!

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