Limited The Chair

This RP is open, but with limitations.
Fang

Fang

Active member
”Look, man, Im just saying-“



Nat grunted, the exertion interrupting what was becoming less a discussion than he might have hoped for. Running across rooftops was hardly the best time to carry on a conversation of any kind, even with the spring-loaded heels that propelled him across the hurtling gaps between buildings. He had been the one to initiate the conversation, though, so he could hardly complain.



”It’s not that I don’t want you to go into the field. I made you the armor, didn’t I?” Another pause as he crossed another gap and landed into a roll. ”Armor isn’t enough to protect you completely. I won’t even use my power, but I’ve got to know you can at least handle a regular person before I could consider bringing you in on a mission like this.”



He had been tossing out half-truths like that one a lot more lately, though he wasn’t sure if that meant he was getting closer to finding Cryptid or farther away. It seemed the chase was becoming more desperate at this point, chasing whispered rumors of a man in a horned mask being seen with a group of supposed other shady people with a penchant for costume.



It made sense for the cannibal to be so difficult to find if someone was covering the trail, and from what Nat could gather it seemed as though Cryptid might have found himself allied with possible metahuman traffickers. The reports he had of their collusion were tenuous at best, and the reports of the people involved were shakier even still.



”If these guys are really trafficking metahumans there are probably some in their ranks as well. If it’s dangerous for me then its dangerous for you.” Nat grinned beneath his mask as he slid to a stop near the edge of a seven story building. ”Location is in sight, Den Mother.” Nat pointed toward the garage below with only a soft chuckle that might have been a clearing of his throat.
 
“Copy that, Cub Scout,” Todd replied, without hesitation. Of all the names for Nat to decide to get creative with, Todd’s callsign was the most annoying – so Todd had started to annoy back. The banter was probably good for their relationship. “Just remember this is a recon mission. If these people are as dangerous as we think, you need information more than anything. Try not to engage.”

From the safety of the Wolf Den, Todd was watching the area of Nat’s location. The kid had made a risky choice, and it was partly his mentor’s fault. Nat had been looking into gunrunners in the area, and incidentally found what he heard as “metahuman traffickers” by the name of Slate Todd, assuming this would help keep the kid away from Obsidian, at least for a while, had encouraged the information. Metahuman arms traffickers would only get the kid curious, right?

Well. Todd didn’t account for Nat’s negligible survival instinct. Metahuman trafficking only grabbed his attention, and he’d insisted on checking them out on his own. In this case, Nat was actually applying a principle Todd had given him – always check your info, no matter how much you trust your source. At least if it backfired, Todd could frame this as a test, lie about why he was lying in the first place.

“And I told you, Sam’s been training with me – you can ask her how it’s going. I couldn’t ask for a better teacher. Besides, I don’t have to get in a fistfight if I’m under the radar. Sparring aside, you haven’t given me the chance to show you what I can really do.”

Of course, Todd didn’t actually want that chance. There was way too much risk. Either Nat would figure him out immediately, or he’d accidentally give the kid insights into countering his fighting style as Cryptid. Sam was a good teacher, and so was Sulphur; but he still relied heavily on his instincts and heightened senses in a real fight, and he was just as likely to tank a hit and heal as he was to dodge with metahuman speed. Neither was something he wanted Nat to see. Let alone any possible slips on the field – hunting or not, his recent incident with Obsidian… yeah.
 
Nat choked on his own humor, Todd’s immediate rebuttal halting the chuckle in his throat. He had to admit it was fitting, calling a Wolf “Cub” just as it was fitting to call someone stuck in the warehouse “Den Mother.” Both might have been a little demeaning, but at least they were said in good faith. Todd was right, though. Nat hadn’t given him much of a choice, though in this particular instance it was more to do with the comfort of having his mentor in his ear than any doubt he had over his capacity.



”I know, I know, observation only.” Nat snapped back as he dove off of the rooftop, a single cable whirring out from the steel of his suit to slow his fall. He hit the ground silently, and held a hand up to his ear as he continued. “I’m sure Sam has been doing her best,” Nat eyed the garage warily before continuing, searching for signs of movement. ”But even with the best training in the world people can get hurt. People can die.” You could be eaten. He didn’t say the words, though he was sorely tempted to. It had begun weighing on him lately, keeping secrets from the man who had been nothing but supportive of him.



There were deeper issues to consider, though, beyond the possibility of Cryptid devouring Todd in front of his eyes. ”Just ask Sam,” Nat said, echoing his mentor’s own advice. ”I know you’ve dealt with a lot in your life, Todd. Is it so wrong I don’t want to see more added to your grief?” They still hadn’t talked about the weight Nat had seen in Todd’s bearing, the past that he held so close to his chest. Nat suspected that they never would, but he wanted the man to know that he understood. It came with the territory, and with each ally Nat made he knew that same kind of weight would eventually find him.



”I’m not seeing any signs of life inside,” he said quickly to change the subject. ”What are the chances this is a wild goose chase?” He had brought the possible existence of Slate to Todd’s attention a while ago, and his mentor had found little else to support the rumor of the traffickers’ existence. Todd was a much better detective than Nat, so it was entirely possible that Slate was nothing more than just that; a rumor or perhaps a distraction for the Wolf who was doing his best to eliminate crime from the city.
 
There weren’t many boxes left. Hematite had checked thirty -two boxes since he had arrived at roughly five that evening. Honestly, it wasn’t terrible work, and he could move at his own pace as he shifted through the latest order for Carmen, one of the many connections Obsidian had made in the city since arriving. It was to their benefit to help her eliminate all of the higher-tier crime in the city– or at least bring it under her control. That left large swathes for them to claim as well. Between the two of them, things were falling into place.

The new order was far more extensive than the previous one. Lots more of the rifles previously discussed and the explosives she had requested. All in all, everything had been as expected, and Hematite had merely checked things off his list as he moved on. The list he was working off was simple– it listed, quite literally, Product A, Product B, and so on. There were numbers associated with the letters, and those numbers were memorized by most of Slate as identification numbers for their weaponry.

He hummed as he worked, before checking the time. God, had it really gotten that late? Wait, he was supposed to be working on not using God as a term. Damn. Rhody was trying with him, but if Hemie was being honest, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the religion thing. Maybe he was just too angry to accept it. After what had happened with him and his sister, it was hard to have faith in a higher power. Maybe he would eventually get past Rachael’s death, but it wouldn’t be today.

With that thought heavy in his head, he set the clipboard down and made to leave the warehouse for a minute. He hadn’t had a break since he arrived, so he was due to go stand outside in the crisp winter air. It was long past nightfall, so he snatched up his corduroy jacket as he passed it and tugged it on over his violet and green geometric t-shirt. The beads in his long dreads rattled against each other as he stepped outside, taking in a breath of crisp, winter air.​
 
”Hold that thought.”



Nearing the exterior wall Nat had heard… something. He wasn’t certain, truly, of what had given him pause. A shuffle, a thump, or perhaps simply an instinct that told him something or someone was moving inside. There were some few windows to peer through, and though they were clouded with age and filth he could just barely see the moving shadow of a human figure while peeking over the edge.



”Looks like someone is inside.”



Without waiting for direction from Todd Nat rounded the building’s front, toward the bay door near where he had seen the silhouette. He darted from boxes to barrels, footsteps silenced by his careful tread and the use of his power to hold the steel of his armor in place. The space around the door had been cleared, with nowhere to hide beyond the stack of crates where Nat found himself stuck as the man stepped outside.





”Might be a worker of some kind.” The hope in Nat’s voice was clear, cover for the boundless doubt he gave no voice to. For a moment there was silence, breath held as thought ran faster than lightning to weigh his options. A sharp exhale marked Nat’s decision.



”Lets see if he’s friendly.”



The tension seemed to melt away as Nat stepped around the piled crates, straightening and making his presence explicitly known as he raised his hand in an awkward wave.



”Hi there! You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a group called Slate, would you?”
 
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Just as Hemie was getting comfortable in the cool air, a voice broke the night. He slowly turned toward where it had come from, staring blankly. Was this… was this really happening? Did this young vigilante(?) just ask him if he knew anything about Slate? Was he being punked? Hemie quickly looked around for any sign of the Pack. This felt like the kind of joke Lapis would pull on him. It wasn’t quite Onyx’s style, nor did it fit his wife, Rhody. Obsidian and Sulphur didn’t play jokes.

“... I’m sorry brother, did Lapis send you here to mess with me?” His Chicago accent was thick as he spoke, his lips quirking up at the edges. There was absolutely no way this was a real child vigilante. He was definitely being punked. “You can go tell her I bought it and get paid, okay? No need to drag this out, aye?”

He pulled the collar of his jacket up to protect his neck from the chill. Late December was hardly a time to be as dressed down as he was, but sifting through the boxes had kept him warm enough. He wished he had the scarf that Rhody had made for him, but he’d survive until he got back to the Rover and could warm up.​
 
Nat’s eyes narrowed slightly behind his mask; a tentative note taken in the back of his mind. He still wasn’t certain whether the man was involved with the matahuman traffickers or not, but any information could lead to the next step in the Wolf’s investigation. Lost behind the masks Nat smiled politely anyway, expression lending credence to his friendly tone.



”I’m, sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about. And I’m definitely not getting paid for this.” What would you even charge for vigilantism? ”You see, there are rumors floating around that the group called Slate is responsible for the disappearance of a number of metahumans.” Nat paused casually to examine the man’s response.



”Even if it were normal people disappearing the group would definitely be a cause for concern, but when you add the unpredictability of superhuman powers to the mix,” Nat spread his hands out in a shrug as he stepped around the crates toward the man. Non-threatening, openly displaying that though he was armored he held no weapons. In many ways Nat felt like he were trying to approach a wild animal, though.



”We are just trying to keep people safe.” Todd had been oddly silent, which Nat assumed meant he was probably okay with the way the conversation was going. Either that or he was having a panic attack.



”If you know anything that could help it would be greatly appreciated.”
 
”Looks like someone is inside. Might be a-”

The line dropped. There was a crinkle of static, like he’d found a rare dead zone. Maybe it was an intentional dead zone. Either way, Todd’s heartbeat spiked as he turned to the next monitor, rewinding the traffic footage to try to catch a glimpse of what his student had seen.

“Cub Scout, come in. Do not engage. I repeat, Wolf, do not engage!”

He hoped that went through, but he wasn’t picking anything else up. Nat had a tendency to talk to himself when working. He really wanted to sit this out, to wait. He watched the camera run in reverse –

And then hit the spacebar when a figure came on screen. He stared at it for a second, and then sucked a sharp breath. He fast-forwarded to the present with one hand, and pressed his comm with the other, hoping to whatever might be out there to hear him that the signal outage was one-way.

“Wolf. Wolf, if you can hear me, withdraw. Get out of there right now.”

Hematite. This wasn’t supposed to be a Slate warehouse. Todd had tried to keep track of those on his own patrols, more for steering Sam away from them when he could. There wasn’t any audio on the feed, either, so he had no idea what was happening on that end, but Nat had apparently stopped in the cold spot. Off-camera, based on where Hematite was facing. Shit. Hemie would probably take it easy on the kid – until he realized that the kid wasn’t going to take it easy on him.

There was a chance this didn’t turn into a fight. Maybe Hemie would talk to Wolf, try to get him to stand down, maybe even recruit him. Then again, that might just piss Nat off and trigger an attack. The chances of this not turning into a fight were actually getting lower and lower. He’d have to watch the cameras, and keep his comm on, but there was enough of a chance of this going badly in a district fifteen minutes away by motorcycle that he’d have to get suited if he wanted to go. The Malibu was parked down the street – he could go for his claws, for his whole duffel, really, but for right now he was going to start by heading downstairs to the mannequins, the one in blue and grey. It might take a minute to get the flexible armor on for the first time, and there wasn’t enough time to spare. He just had to hope things got settled before he could commit to his current plan.
 

For a second, all Hemie could do was look at the kid. He was being serious? He was being serious. That was odd. They hadn’t had much trouble lately with vigilantes, much less child vigilantes. He looked around them, then frowned and thought about what he was actually being asked. After a moment, he smirked and held up a hand, one finger raised.

“One. I’m with Slate, brother. Name’s Hematite.” A second finger went up. “Second, we don’t do human trafficking. That’s beneath us. We don’t have to traffic metas– we just have to tell them that we can lead them to a better way. You’re barking up the wrong tree, brother.”

Hemie shrugged and pulled the jacket tighter around him, crossing his arms. It was much colder when he wasn’t moving, but that was December for you. With a sigh, he looked back toward the warehouse. He really needed to finish crosschecking, but he couldn’t do that with this kid here. No, mask needed to be dealt with first. Either scared away or subdued, whichever proved to be more convenient. The dark-skinned man cracked his neck, his dreads falling over his side shave to cover it. The beads and rings tinkled like little bells as they clanged against one another.

“You’re better off looking into anyone else in the area. Or maybe not. Maybe you should just go home, brother, before you get hurt. I’d rather not see a kid getting injured on the news because he wanted to play hero, you feel me?”​
 
Nat had learned body language younger than most. He attributed the skill to his bullies, a subtle way to turn the unpleasant experiences they offered him into something useful to grow upon. The dreadlocked man looked around himself and Nat knew he had stumbled onto a villain, the air turning from tense to electric as his response was given. Nat’s fists clenched slightly, his feet shifted as Hematite cracked his knuckles, and beneath his masks Nat’s jaw clenched.



“We don’t have to traffic metas– we just have to tell them that we can lead them to a better way.”



It may as well have been a confession. Arguing semantics with a villain was pointless unless you needed time to breathe, and Nat was fresh as a summer breeze. He had come to find Slate, the supposed cause of meta disappearances. Whether they considered it trafficking or not was a problem for the police and therapists.



”I’ve got to be honest, brother,” Nat’s voice was remarkably steady and hid the tension in his body well. ”You don’t seem like the kind of guy that watches the news.” Inside Nat was practically squealing. If Hematite hadn’t been an enemy he would have ran over and hugged him, thanked him for his classically delivered villainous lines. Nat had been active enough in the past several months that he had hoped such an exchange would only be a matter of time.



The steel around his wrists slid forward with a muted clang, surrounding the knuckles of his clenched fist neatly. ”Let’s find out who’s playing.” The internal squeal reached its apex; finally given another chance he had managed to deliver heroic banter naturally. The satisfaction was palpable, giving fuel to his burst of motion a moment after his line was delivered.


Bolstered by his power Nat moved in a flash to cross the distance between himself and the professed member of Slate. Crates served as launching pads, cracking under the weight of his heavy footfalls before he hopped to the next. His right fist swung wide, the weight of his armored suit granting extra force as he aimed for Hematite’s jaw. It was enough to break bone, and hopefully knock the muscular man out. Once he was incapacitated Nat could haul him back to the Den and show Todd his prize.



Together they could come up with a plan to get more information on Slate from him. Let them see how if felt to have their people disappear.
 
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Hematite barely had time to sigh as the kid charged him. He was quick to react, though, as steel coated him, replacing the layers of skin and upper layers of muscles. The fist hit him hard, and he took the brunt of it straight to the side of his jaw, having turned his head slightly. He stumbled back, catching his jaw with his hand. He rubbed the spot, knowing it hit hard enough that he was likely bruised beneath it.

His wife was going to hate that.

He straightened his shoulders out and fell into a fighting stance as he looked over at the kid, every inch of him beneath his clothes now heavy steel. He smiled, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the kid would have been able to see that even his teeth had turned to steel. “Alright then, kid. I see that talkin’ isnn’ gonna work here. So if you really want to go, let’s do it!”

He charged forward, his steps heavy but surprisingly fast for someone who was now completely made of steel. He made to swing his left fist at the kid, then ducked low and swung his right instead. He went to drive his fist forward into his gut, to wind him and maybe take him down for long enough to bang his head into the cement and knock his cocky ass out.​
 
As a vigilante Nat had figured one thing out to be an immaculate truth: Nothing ever quite worked out as well as you hoped. He had knocked plenty of people out with his steel reinforced punch, had shattered more than a few jaws and even learned to hold something back to prevent such total devastation. He didn’t attempt that on Hematite, though. Some instinct had warned him that half measures would be ineffective, mystery that the man’s abilities might have been.



Even with that instinct, however, Nat could not have expected the ring of steel clashing against steel when his fist connected. Rocked back from the recoil of the blow Nat slid backwards on his feet, knuckles tingling from the impact. Hematite rubbed his jaw even as Nat shook the vibration from his hand with a hiss of air through his teeth. As his opponent recovered Nat leveled his fists into a readied stance of his own, body turned and knees bent slightly.



”If you really want to go, let’s do it!”



Hematite charged forward and Nat let his breath flow between his lips evenly, eyes locked on his opponent behind the mask. The feint from the left was ignored, almost expected as Nat’s focus shifted to Hematite’s right fist and the steel in his gloves followed suit. With his left hand hand cupped into the other, and a thick plate of steel flowing around his fingers to protect his palm, Nat caught the blow as it barreled into his midsection.



Another clang of steel against steel as the force of the blow drove Nat’s own forearms into his gut and pushed him several feet back, though the brunt of Hematite’s attack had been absorbed. Partially doubled, Nat took the span of a heartbeat before straightening, the steel in his suit flowing upward gently with the motion to cover the exposed portions of his neck and head before molding into the lupine mask with a soft shink. With his lower jaw now covered in steel as well a toothy grin spread beneath the mask. The steel mimicked his expression on the Wolf’s visage, smile filled with bladed fangs.



”Gotta say, I wasn’t expecting that.” Nat cracked his knuckles with a small chuckle. ”This just got a whole lot more interesting.”



Nat stepped forward twice, covering the distance that their exchange had created confidently before taking up a readied stance once more. The steel of his boots launched claws into the concrete beneath his feet to anchor him and prevent any further sliding from the force of their blows, though he waited until Hematite’s stance was equally prepared before clenching his fist and offering a right jab and a heavy left hook.
 

The clang of steel on steel cracked sharply through the air as the kid doubled over. Hematite took a half step back, giving him a bit of room to see if he’d drop to his knees and make this easy for him. Instead, he straightened back up, and a helm molded itself to the kid’s head. A wolf, huh? Hematite almost laughed. Obsidian would have been incredibly entertained by this lone wolf trying to take on a member of his Pack all alone.

The metalbender approached him, and Hemaitite squared up, ready to take whatever hit was about to come. He let the jab hit, bracing himself so he didn’t move. Then he reached up and went to grab for the kid’s left wrist, intending to pull him in closer. If he got a hold of it, he planned to sweep a leg, knocking his ankles out from under him, and then use his own weight to slam him into the concrete below them.

The way the kid had taken a stance, and had given him time to take a stance, told him a lot. The kid was inexperienced in real street fights. He either didn’t consider the fact that most people would have taken advantage of that set up, or he simply thought better of Hematite. Either of those could be used to his advantage.

He tuned back into the present moment, just as his hand wrapped around the kid’s wrist. He swept his left leg, and his legs went out. Hematite immediate twisted and used all of the kid’s weight to slam him into the ground on his back, looking to get that winded effect he was searching for earlier. “You’re out of your league, kid.”​
 
The man was strong, burly enough to pull Nat from his feet along with a chunk of the foundation he had secured himself to and slam him to the concrete with added force. It was a near instant response that would have taken most people off guard. Experienced fighters dealt with counters, and Hematite had proven himself as such with his reflexive throw. Nat was mildly impressed, though he could tell it was experience rather than rigorous training that had allowed his opponent such an opportunity.



Compared with his grandfather, or against Sam, Hematite’s speed left something to be desired.



As Nat went down the metal at his shoulders rippled, coiling tightly before slamming into the ground and absorbing the majority of the force of the blow. Instantly the steel recoiled outward, bouncing Nat forward to slam his masked forehead directly into the bridge of Hematite’s nose, seeking to disorient his opponent as the armor covering his forearms slid downward in an attempt to lock the fighter’s hands together tightly.



Without hesitation Nat kicked outward with both legs, the attempt to bind their arms secondary as he aimed to drive his heels as deeply into the steel solar plexus as he could possibly manage. His jaw clenched against the force of his efforts, the steel he armored himself with reacting to his power with steady and rhythmic distortions cascading over its entirety.



”You don’t even know what league I am in.



It wasn’t loud, or forceful, and it certainly wasn’t witty. As far as banter went Nat had given no thought to the response. Fighting Sam had required his focus, but Hematite was a different beast that was drawing something else from the generally flippant youth. Green eyes flickered golden behind the lupine shaped steel with his reply, and the words were backed by a throaty rumble that deepened his voice. Nat wouldn’t lose a battle of steel against steel; his honor wouldn’t allow it.
 

Somehow, when the kid went down, he didn’t end up winded or unconscious. Instead, his head bounced back forward into his face, hitting his nose hard. Steel on steel rang out sharply in the air. It rang in Hematite’s ears, and his eyes seemed to vibrate in his head. It caught him off guard, and he wasn’t prepared for the sudden tightness around his arm that seemed to prevent him from pulling back. Then, both of the kid’s feet hit his stomach and he felt a sudden and deep stab radiate up and outward from it.

He gasped out as he lost air for half a moment and stumbled backwards, the hold on his arm breaking. He slammed a hand down and caught himself mid fall, pushing himself back to his feet, knees bent low. He grounded himself for a breath.Then, he barked out a laugh. The kid was bold. Bold and strong. But being bold and strong– and even trained– wasn’t enough to survive. You needed so much more in order to win a fight like this.

Hematite rushed back in, sliding across the ground on his steeled knees, driving his arm hard for the kid’s stomach. If he hit, he would use the momentum to swing back to his feet and wrap his arms around the kid. An arm to his throat, an arm to his stomach, to pin him to his chest. With him pinned, he’d choke the kid out and take him out quick and clean. Because being bold and strong wasn’t enough. He needed to be fast and brutal. He needed to be decisive. And he needed to be stronger of will than the kid was.

Obsidian would accept nothing less from him than total victory in any situation. It didn’t matter the circumstances. He knew how strong Hematite’s will was. After all, he remembered life before Slate. He remembered his grandfather and father.

He remembered his sister.

He could outlast the kid. After all, he was just a kid, no matter how strong, and Hematite was experienced. Hematite had grown up fighting. His whole life, he had done nothing but fight. He had taken on men far stronger than this kid. This was as easy as breathing to him.​
 
The steel grin Nat had spread across his mask might have grown a little wider with the satisfaction of seeing the steel man slide across the concrete away from him. Nat caught his footing and straightened slightly, keeping level with his opponent as Hematite recovered and that gratifying feeling was torn away by his charge. Nat’s armored feet locked into the concrete again in the face of Hemie the Train Engine’s approach, steel muscle and ire met head on with arms outstretched.



Hematite aimed a blow for Nat’s stomach, telegraphed though the Wolf made no move to avoid it. Nat had tested and expanded the limits of his power. He knew how strong the steel he controlled could be. If Nat could manipulate thousands of pounds of steel that he could never have hoped to life otherwise, well…



Hematite’s arm drove into the steel plates that protected Nat’s midsection, doubling him over from its force though there was a noticeable absence of the rush of air one might expect from such a blow. Hematite used the momentum to swing from his knees to his feet, wrapping around Nat like some sort of Iron Monkey to pin his throat and stomach beneath corded steel. Yet still Nat barely struggled, pushing just enough with either arm against Hematite’s own to maintain his breathing. The arm that wrapped around his stomach was held over the top, while the one at his throat was pushed from beneath.



Nat wasn’t exactly sure when he had noticed, had felt the way that Hematite’s steel behaved. The vibration was off, weak and beyond whatever resonance Nat usually felt with other metals. It was the reason he hadn’t even thought to simply rip the man apart with his gift, to exercise his right as the sovereign of steel. Whatever Hematite was, however much he seemed to be made of Nat’s domain, he was just outside of it as well.



It was just as well for Nat as the lupine mask opened its jagged smile wide to chomp down on the offending false steel in front of him. Steel sought purchase on steel, sharp edge screeching against smooth iron skin as Nat’s mask bit at Hematite’s arm viciously. The armor around Nat flexed outward, the force behind it enough to have altered three times its weight if Nat had the ability to change Hematite’s form. Once enough room was gained Nat’s mask would cease its attack, and Nat would slip free from his opponent’s grip.



His suit was not abandoned, however, as the steel sought to wrap around Hematite’s limbs in much the same way he had restrained Nat. Almost caressingly Nat ran a single finger over the steel of his suit as he slipped free, the golden gaze behind his mask almost mocking as he manipulated the steel he no longer wore like a living puddle, the cascading ripples sent throughout it so rapid it seemed to vibrate around Hematite.



”You have no idea,” Nat’s voice felt somehow deeper, accompanied by the growl as it had been before. It felt natural, like speaking truthfully for the first time. Ridges appeared in the rippling steel, grinding edges that sparked against Hematite’s skin even as Nat sought to bind him. ”No idea what I am capable of.” A barking laugh as he leaned closer and pushed at the steel with more force. Then, a momentary expression of confusion.



”Will you give up?” Nat’s voice lost its rumble, as he thought of what going further might result in for his opponent.
 
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