Pressure vanishes, force expends, and Rinzler drops to the floor. His arm is stained with [contaminant: unknown], first contact skidding on the floor, but he twists and rolls, putting both feet underneath him. He should have at least—
—a moment—
The familiar click is equal parts warning and impossibility. Rinzler reacts with his own impossible speed: contorting his frame, slamming up his disk to divert the attack. Reflex is quick enough to block, but not to dodge, and for the second time in half a cycle, Rinzler feels the grappling arm lock closed around his disk.
This time, it's burning.
He won't let go. Won't give it up. Cognition blanks and ripples with ghost sickness, overheat channeled through reflected code as much as through the point of contact from his grip. He stumbles forward as the reel jerks back, slick footing and nausea obstructing efforts to brace and hold his ground. He knows how to fight against this tether, but he can't grab it, not like this; can't take control.
He can't give up, either. Certainly, he can't stop. The distance closes one more pace, and both disks flare a pure, blinding white. Rinzler jerks back on the line, pulling it taut as his free weapon slams into the burning cord edge first. He'd damaged it before. This time? He's spending as much charge as it takes to break it.
no subject
—a moment—
The familiar click is equal parts warning and impossibility. Rinzler reacts with his own impossible speed: contorting his frame, slamming up his disk to divert the attack. Reflex is quick enough to block, but not to dodge, and for the second time in half a cycle, Rinzler feels the grappling arm lock closed around his disk.
This time, it's burning.
He won't let go. Won't give it up. Cognition blanks and ripples with ghost sickness, overheat channeled through reflected code as much as through the point of contact from his grip. He stumbles forward as the reel jerks back, slick footing and nausea obstructing efforts to brace and hold his ground. He knows how to fight against this tether, but he can't grab it, not like this; can't take control.
He can't give up, either. Certainly, he can't stop. The distance closes one more pace, and both disks flare a pure, blinding white. Rinzler jerks back on the line, pulling it taut as his free weapon slams into the burning cord edge first. He'd damaged it before. This time? He's spending as much charge as it takes to break it.