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The simulacrum growled as the C-finder was brutally jammed up and into where his fleshy human guts would've been. The cheap plastic of that infernal, blasted toy gun whined, popping and cracking from the force of impact combined with the struggle of hefting the nightmare's weighty frame off the ground for a scant moment. The gun's discomfort was quickly alleviated however, much unlike the contents of Revenant's rapidly unfolding and very imminent future.
The merc was flung into the sky before he had a chance to retaliate. Furious, hellish eyes took in every detail in perfectly encoded precision, desperate to find any sort of leverage. Paradoxically, he needed to win this fight to die. He needed to have his wish granted. He had been promised that the Man in Red, that all of this Carnivale Rosa bullshit had a point, that the Red Man had unknown but immense abilities and powers, that he could be granted his deepest desires- that in victory he would finally be set free and rest.
Karl Jak's free arm swung upwards to take aim, a singular fluid movement that continued after launching the simulacra into the heavens. Under any other set of circumstances, Revenant would have even been amused by the irony of his situation: for the briefest of instances a hell-bound, sinful and murderous assassination machination found refuge where countless skinsuits had imagined their divine gods and angels resided. By the barest of standards, he was a morbid facsimile of their deities, a wicked and sadistic god that enjoyed ending each and every one of the millions of lives he was tasked on.
The trigger was depressed, and hammer struck nail with a resounding roar as if the gods themselves moved to eject him for daring to insult. Brilliant and pale blue-green light poured down from outer space with the fury of a torrential waterfall and pushed clouds away with the ease. It mocked him mercilessly. It surrounded and inundated him. The celestial heat seeped into his joints and wounds first. His headscarf caught ablaze as the red metallic finish on his exoskeleton began to burn away. His once polished silvery frame oxidized, turning a charred black before glowing red, then orange hot. His mechanical body and delicate internal circuitry melted away before the laser and he let out a corrupted, warped scream from that unbelievable agony. He knew he was machine, but he could still feel his phantom flesh boiling, his calcium bones baking and crackling into parched splinters. The circuits refused to stop sending signals to his frying processors until they completely broke down. He could feel phantom air being sucked from his non-existent lungs but his body continued to screech it's binary death cry, until suddenly it ceased, like
the flip
of
a
switch.
Revenant found himself surrounded by cold, calm and finally silent darkness.
The merc was flung into the sky before he had a chance to retaliate. Furious, hellish eyes took in every detail in perfectly encoded precision, desperate to find any sort of leverage. Paradoxically, he needed to win this fight to die. He needed to have his wish granted. He had been promised that the Man in Red, that all of this Carnivale Rosa bullshit had a point, that the Red Man had unknown but immense abilities and powers, that he could be granted his deepest desires- that in victory he would finally be set free and rest.
Karl Jak's free arm swung upwards to take aim, a singular fluid movement that continued after launching the simulacra into the heavens. Under any other set of circumstances, Revenant would have even been amused by the irony of his situation: for the briefest of instances a hell-bound, sinful and murderous assassination machination found refuge where countless skinsuits had imagined their divine gods and angels resided. By the barest of standards, he was a morbid facsimile of their deities, a wicked and sadistic god that enjoyed ending each and every one of the millions of lives he was tasked on.
The trigger was depressed, and hammer struck nail with a resounding roar as if the gods themselves moved to eject him for daring to insult. Brilliant and pale blue-green light poured down from outer space with the fury of a torrential waterfall and pushed clouds away with the ease. It mocked him mercilessly. It surrounded and inundated him. The celestial heat seeped into his joints and wounds first. His headscarf caught ablaze as the red metallic finish on his exoskeleton began to burn away. His once polished silvery frame oxidized, turning a charred black before glowing red, then orange hot. His mechanical body and delicate internal circuitry melted away before the laser and he let out a corrupted, warped scream from that unbelievable agony. He knew he was machine, but he could still feel his phantom flesh boiling, his calcium bones baking and crackling into parched splinters. The circuits refused to stop sending signals to his frying processors until they completely broke down. He could feel phantom air being sucked from his non-existent lungs but his body continued to screech it's binary death cry, until suddenly it ceased, like
the flip
of
a
switch.
Revenant found himself surrounded by cold, calm and finally silent darkness.