Freight train might fall outside Rinzler's realm of experience, but it's clear enough the moment he gets close: whatever presence is traversing the Moira, it's strong. The halls nearby are wiped clean of enemies, the cries around the corner a testament to the fear of those still struggling against their foe. He can feel the pulse of energy, raw and erratic.
He can hear the weapon discharge before the power shudders and bleeds dry.
By the time the enforcer makes it to visual range, there's not much left to call a battle. Chaos. Corpses. A few scattered threats blasted to near-derezz, only one of which is still struggling to bring its weapon into line. He's faster, of course, and it sinks back against the wall with a sharp noise, leaving smears of dark red sizzling along the length of Rinzler's blade. He lowers the light-sword and steps forward, black helmet angling down to inspect the shape it had been aiming at.
As few interactions as they've had, [ID: Sans] left an impression. First as a nuisance. Then as a threat. He'd wanted Sans dead, wanted to prove he could beat him. But considering the current scene, Rinzler's forced to acknowledge: he underestimated the monster not once, but twice. The program doesn't know if he could fight the creature that had ripped apart these hallways. But he's seen that dust before. He knows that today, he won't get a chance to try.
It's disappointing.
The enforcer's rumble ticks out quietly through the hall, joined only to a slight drip of blood from the former threats. He doesn't reach for his MID, but if Sans looks up, he'll find the black helmet angled in mute question.
no subject
He can hear the weapon discharge before the power shudders and bleeds dry.
By the time the enforcer makes it to visual range, there's not much left to call a battle. Chaos. Corpses. A few scattered threats blasted to near-derezz, only one of which is still struggling to bring its weapon into line. He's faster, of course, and it sinks back against the wall with a sharp noise, leaving smears of dark red sizzling along the length of Rinzler's blade. He lowers the light-sword and steps forward, black helmet angling down to inspect the shape it had been aiming at.
As few interactions as they've had, [ID: Sans] left an impression. First as a nuisance. Then as a threat. He'd wanted Sans dead, wanted to prove he could beat him. But considering the current scene, Rinzler's forced to acknowledge: he underestimated the monster not once, but twice. The program doesn't know if he could fight the creature that had ripped apart these hallways. But he's seen that dust before. He knows that today, he won't get a chance to try.
It's disappointing.
The enforcer's rumble ticks out quietly through the hall, joined only to a slight drip of blood from the former threats. He doesn't reach for his MID, but if Sans looks up, he'll find the black helmet angled in mute question.
That's it, then?