[div style="background-color:#3137fd;border-top:#3137fd 4px outset;border-left:#3137fd 4px inset;border-right:#3137fd 4px outset;border-bottom:#3137fd 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:#3137fd 4px inset;border-left:#3137fd 4px outset;border-right:#3137fd 4px inset;border-bottom:#3137fd 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]The current had, of course, stopped once he focused on it. It was a knee-jerk, a punch thrown blindly regardless of consequence, pain in the name of self-defense. It had saved him from the edge of black blades several times over the millennia, but he could not command it. It was a blessing in the name of his own protection, not in the intentional harm of others.
But the boy didn’t know that. Castor pulled against the web for a second before he realized that the counterpull wasn’t weight – the web was stuck to the shaft. He had made it halfway up, held to the edge with one hand, stretching the material it in his wake, before he decided to look back with eyes that had no trouble in the darkness. He studied his hand for just a moment before he saw the movement on the far wall.
[font color="3137fd"]“Oh, good, I didn’t kill you,”[/font] he managed, before the body went into motion.
The speed and accuracy were superhuman. He could give the boy that much credit. But the blue eyes that followed the arc were designed to take in movement faster than most human minds would process before they found themselves gutted on the floor or choking on their own blood. It crossed his mind that her predecessor would have sent Pollux to take care of problems like this.
It made his own presence something of a relief, as he was capable of taking it easy on the lad.
Not too easy, because he had a job to do, and the lad was proving himself to be very tough. He would applaud if his hands weren’t full.
His fist closed, and he yanked to tear the webbing attached from the webbing connected to the tunnel. Then he kicked his mind into second gear. Not much higher than that – he was to exhaust the boy, not simply outdo him. But, using the glue on his left hand, he got the traction he needed by slamming the palm into the floor and pulling himself up in a tumble of limbs, lucky to only catch one hard hit to the back. He barely even felt it, just had a sense of a growing stickiness that was thankfully nothing like blood. The pressure was there, but it didn’t fully incapacitate him. In fact it hardly limited his movements, even as it reached across his shoulders.
He took the time to look again into the shaft, and saw that the boy had to have launched into motion the same time he had, because he was firing from the air. Castor debated throwing himself into the atrium, then decided against it. He wanted to give the boy space to move at his own pace, maybe learn a few tricks from an old dog. He remained where he was as Sensation's feet touched the ground.
And so once more Castor was between the boy and the elevator, but this time he was ready. He did not emit another shock, because that would be rude, but he did reach out with one metal hand to seize the boy’s foot. If he managed to secure it, he’d counterbalance hard and throw Sensation toward one of the atrium’s closed doors, hopefully gaining some distance as he finally put some space between himself and the waiting mouth of the elevator.
He was actually enjoying himself, even if Sensation, who had been full of energy, decided to stay quiet. He seriously debated enjoying the quiet – but ah, for the gods’ sake, a little banter never hurt. He was used to not being answered, although he’d given up on clever words with that sparring partner a long time ago. But this one was new, a refreshing change who had provided a nice warmup.
[font color="3137fd"]“I did expect this to be a little more difficult, you know. That’s three times I could have simply hit you the right way and put you out. It’s almost like you don’t want to escape.”[/font]
He actually wasn’t counting, but three was a good, round number, a sacred number. He figured if it was that important he’d be corrected. Or continue to be faced with sullen silence. Again, such was nothing new, just a disappointment.
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But the boy didn’t know that. Castor pulled against the web for a second before he realized that the counterpull wasn’t weight – the web was stuck to the shaft. He had made it halfway up, held to the edge with one hand, stretching the material it in his wake, before he decided to look back with eyes that had no trouble in the darkness. He studied his hand for just a moment before he saw the movement on the far wall.
[font color="3137fd"]“Oh, good, I didn’t kill you,”[/font] he managed, before the body went into motion.
The speed and accuracy were superhuman. He could give the boy that much credit. But the blue eyes that followed the arc were designed to take in movement faster than most human minds would process before they found themselves gutted on the floor or choking on their own blood. It crossed his mind that her predecessor would have sent Pollux to take care of problems like this.
It made his own presence something of a relief, as he was capable of taking it easy on the lad.
Not too easy, because he had a job to do, and the lad was proving himself to be very tough. He would applaud if his hands weren’t full.
His fist closed, and he yanked to tear the webbing attached from the webbing connected to the tunnel. Then he kicked his mind into second gear. Not much higher than that – he was to exhaust the boy, not simply outdo him. But, using the glue on his left hand, he got the traction he needed by slamming the palm into the floor and pulling himself up in a tumble of limbs, lucky to only catch one hard hit to the back. He barely even felt it, just had a sense of a growing stickiness that was thankfully nothing like blood. The pressure was there, but it didn’t fully incapacitate him. In fact it hardly limited his movements, even as it reached across his shoulders.
He took the time to look again into the shaft, and saw that the boy had to have launched into motion the same time he had, because he was firing from the air. Castor debated throwing himself into the atrium, then decided against it. He wanted to give the boy space to move at his own pace, maybe learn a few tricks from an old dog. He remained where he was as Sensation's feet touched the ground.
And so once more Castor was between the boy and the elevator, but this time he was ready. He did not emit another shock, because that would be rude, but he did reach out with one metal hand to seize the boy’s foot. If he managed to secure it, he’d counterbalance hard and throw Sensation toward one of the atrium’s closed doors, hopefully gaining some distance as he finally put some space between himself and the waiting mouth of the elevator.
He was actually enjoying himself, even if Sensation, who had been full of energy, decided to stay quiet. He seriously debated enjoying the quiet – but ah, for the gods’ sake, a little banter never hurt. He was used to not being answered, although he’d given up on clever words with that sparring partner a long time ago. But this one was new, a refreshing change who had provided a nice warmup.
[font color="3137fd"]“I did expect this to be a little more difficult, you know. That’s three times I could have simply hit you the right way and put you out. It’s almost like you don’t want to escape.”[/font]
He actually wasn’t counting, but three was a good, round number, a sacred number. He figured if it was that important he’d be corrected. Or continue to be faced with sullen silence. Again, such was nothing new, just a disappointment.
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