08-31-2015, 12:06 PM
Cyburn was careless. The buckle securing Zangetsu's massive blade had become loose, causing the Zanpakuto to fall from the back of the unsuspecting Canadian terrorist. The giant brown table of a scabbard fell, but it never would hit the ground, but in the hands of a camouflaged Canadian soldier who had lay in wait. The soldier quickly belted the blade to his back before giving the terrorist a prominent middle finger and making his escape unknowing to the great Cyburn.
Once free from the awful, smelly company of Cyburn's, the Zanpakuto turned his yellow eyes on this new victim. The man wore an outfit similar to that of Cyburn. From head to toe this new man was covered in white fatigues and camouflage. It would be hard for one to spot him if it wasn't for the massive sword on his back and the giant crimson maple leaf on the front of his blouse.
"He he he he... with this new secret weapon the Canadian Army could never again be opposed!", the white clad soldier said, slowing his sprint to walk now that he was far from the site of his epic snatching.
...
Zangetsu could see nothing promising in this man. If anything, Cyburn was more preferable than this imbecile. No wonder why his former "Wielder" was able pose a challenge to these guys. It was pathetic. The only one worth his time so far had been pulled from his grasp.
Zangetsu seemed to be drawing the company of idiots.
Inside the sword he stood and walked to where the void became solid. Like a wall it stopped Zangetsu from travelling any farther. The blade frowned and placed the palm of his ghostly hand to the wall. He knew what he had to do.
Ever since he was torn from his home he had been unattached to any soul. He was less than a human soul yet he could function. Perhaps he could... attach himself to the soul of another, and become one with them if only temporary. A wild grin stretched from ear to ear appeared. He cackled violently and pushed into the wall, fusing his soul with the poor soldier. He clearly wasn't ready for what he had planned for him.
--
The soldier found his way to the Fountain of Infinity, the "Birthplace" of all primes. Suddenly... he felt different. He felt stronger faster but different. Uncontrollably the soldier's hand reached up to grasp the sword he had snatched from the dumb ass. For something with some obvious weight.. it seemed weightless. He had to use it. On something; on anything! The growing hunger, thirst for blood crawled up from his core, gripping hold of his instincts. No.. overflowing it.
In the soldier's mind there was no more room for reason and logic. His instincts were pulled from the depths of his mind to the front, burying it deep. His body hunched, his body tensing as his eyes scanned the area for prey, anyone to sheath his sword in.
"Stop right there!"
The Canadian soldier stopped in his place, licking his lips as the Imperial Scout Trooper behind him stepped from his bike and raised his small but potent blaster pistol. The Trooper was sent to bring in any who came in from the gates or seemed to. Sensors told him that what was in front of him was indeed a prime.. yet wasn't. The Scout's equipment was factory fresh. It couldn't lie to him. This strange anomaly had to be brought in. He slowly stepped forward, the muscle of his blaster against the back of the Canadian. For a moment the Scout was distracted as he reached down to retrieve his cuffs.
This mistake was fatal.
The Canadian abruptly turned and swung Zangetsu into the Scout, embedding him halfway into the chest of the scout. Blood oozed directly onto the blade before dripping to the pristine ground of the Nexus. Electric yellow eyes stared through the wide black visor of the Imperial scout.
__________
"W-Where am I?"
The Canadian looked around. He was.... home. Canada in all her glory! He wore what he did before only... the sword.. the sword was missing! The soldier twisted his body, desperately looking for it. In doing so he failed to see where he was standing.
The Canadian slipped and busted his ass on the icy floor. He grunted and re-evaluated his position. He... he was in the middle of a hockey rink, and he wasn't alone. Everywhere he looked people he knew well were here, skating in a sporadic circle around him while each carrying a mug of steaming hot coffee. The Canadian recovered, getting his bearings on the ice, but nearly busted his ass again.
Once on his feet a white, robed figure grasping his new sword, unsheathed and held at the mysterious man's side. However the eeriest part was the man's skin and eyes: Pale skin with bright menacing eyes.
"H-hey! That's my sword!", The Canadian said, springing to his feet, pointing at the ghostly figure. This.. thing had some nerve to steal something he had just got done stealing. Never mind the people he knew.. this matter had to be settled first.
The ghostly figure simply laughed and licked his lips. "You talkin' about this? You are a fool", the figure growled, dropping the blade point first into the ice.
Rather than stick into the surface like expected, the blade faded through it, leaving the surface unscathed. The Canadian took a step back, somewhat frightened by the act.
"Let's play a game. You have until this world crumbles around you to find your... sword. You do not want to lose", the being giggled and skated around the ice rink on his own pair of skates. He skated around the Canadian, who stared blankly at the ice. He saw it fall through the ice... it had to be in there!
-----
If Jackson Pollock painted a panting with only the color red, it would describe the Canadian. The sick grin still plastered over his face, the scout's body had been dumped into the fountain, staining the clear water with crimson.
The Canadian let out a blood curdling howl and lean down at the edge of the stone fountain's edge, gripping tighter and tighter until his fingernails threatened to tear off. Gravity could only do so much alone so he dove his skull to the edge of the fountain with a sickening crack.
He sobbed and giggled, lifting his head back towards its starting position. His own blood dripped from the large gash in his forehead from the headbutt. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't feel the snapping of his fingers' bones as he gripped the fountain with a force his hands could not sustain. He couldn't feel the crack in his skull. No pain, nothing.... only instinct... the sword's instinct inhabited the man's mind.
---------
The Canadian cried out in desperation as the figures of various people of his past faded away, leaving only the ghost, the Canadian, and his bloody hands to the task at hand. The test had been a failure on the man's part. His mind was closed only to what he saw... a metaphorical sword falling through metaphorical ice. It was all a dream but this man was convinced it was real. The pressure to succeed was pressing him.
The Canadian failed to do more than leave bloody scratch marks in the ice. The soldier sat there weeping cradling his mangled and broken hands as Zangetsu skated lightly around him. He frowned and shook his head. His expectations weren't particularly high for this specimen but he could have done more, thought of something else.
"Hmmm seems you broke before you could fail.... too bad..", Zangetsu left the man to his broken sobs. The test might as well be over. Physically and spiritually the man was broken. He shrugged and severed his connection to the man, returning to the void of his blade.
---------
The electric yellow eyes faded leaving empty brown ones in its wake. The man fell headfirst unconscious into the fountain. The broken, blood-stained man would drown in the Fountain of Infinity... how poetic.
Zangetsu was laying flat on the gore covered ground. Internally he was tired, drained from the connection he had with the meaningless fool.
What a day...
(exit thread)
Once free from the awful, smelly company of Cyburn's, the Zanpakuto turned his yellow eyes on this new victim. The man wore an outfit similar to that of Cyburn. From head to toe this new man was covered in white fatigues and camouflage. It would be hard for one to spot him if it wasn't for the massive sword on his back and the giant crimson maple leaf on the front of his blouse.
"He he he he... with this new secret weapon the Canadian Army could never again be opposed!", the white clad soldier said, slowing his sprint to walk now that he was far from the site of his epic snatching.
...
Zangetsu could see nothing promising in this man. If anything, Cyburn was more preferable than this imbecile. No wonder why his former "Wielder" was able pose a challenge to these guys. It was pathetic. The only one worth his time so far had been pulled from his grasp.
Zangetsu seemed to be drawing the company of idiots.
Inside the sword he stood and walked to where the void became solid. Like a wall it stopped Zangetsu from travelling any farther. The blade frowned and placed the palm of his ghostly hand to the wall. He knew what he had to do.
Ever since he was torn from his home he had been unattached to any soul. He was less than a human soul yet he could function. Perhaps he could... attach himself to the soul of another, and become one with them if only temporary. A wild grin stretched from ear to ear appeared. He cackled violently and pushed into the wall, fusing his soul with the poor soldier. He clearly wasn't ready for what he had planned for him.
--
The soldier found his way to the Fountain of Infinity, the "Birthplace" of all primes. Suddenly... he felt different. He felt stronger faster but different. Uncontrollably the soldier's hand reached up to grasp the sword he had snatched from the dumb ass. For something with some obvious weight.. it seemed weightless. He had to use it. On something; on anything! The growing hunger, thirst for blood crawled up from his core, gripping hold of his instincts. No.. overflowing it.
In the soldier's mind there was no more room for reason and logic. His instincts were pulled from the depths of his mind to the front, burying it deep. His body hunched, his body tensing as his eyes scanned the area for prey, anyone to sheath his sword in.
"Stop right there!"
The Canadian soldier stopped in his place, licking his lips as the Imperial Scout Trooper behind him stepped from his bike and raised his small but potent blaster pistol. The Trooper was sent to bring in any who came in from the gates or seemed to. Sensors told him that what was in front of him was indeed a prime.. yet wasn't. The Scout's equipment was factory fresh. It couldn't lie to him. This strange anomaly had to be brought in. He slowly stepped forward, the muscle of his blaster against the back of the Canadian. For a moment the Scout was distracted as he reached down to retrieve his cuffs.
This mistake was fatal.
The Canadian abruptly turned and swung Zangetsu into the Scout, embedding him halfway into the chest of the scout. Blood oozed directly onto the blade before dripping to the pristine ground of the Nexus. Electric yellow eyes stared through the wide black visor of the Imperial scout.
__________
"W-Where am I?"
The Canadian looked around. He was.... home. Canada in all her glory! He wore what he did before only... the sword.. the sword was missing! The soldier twisted his body, desperately looking for it. In doing so he failed to see where he was standing.
The Canadian slipped and busted his ass on the icy floor. He grunted and re-evaluated his position. He... he was in the middle of a hockey rink, and he wasn't alone. Everywhere he looked people he knew well were here, skating in a sporadic circle around him while each carrying a mug of steaming hot coffee. The Canadian recovered, getting his bearings on the ice, but nearly busted his ass again.
Once on his feet a white, robed figure grasping his new sword, unsheathed and held at the mysterious man's side. However the eeriest part was the man's skin and eyes: Pale skin with bright menacing eyes.
"H-hey! That's my sword!", The Canadian said, springing to his feet, pointing at the ghostly figure. This.. thing had some nerve to steal something he had just got done stealing. Never mind the people he knew.. this matter had to be settled first.
The ghostly figure simply laughed and licked his lips. "You talkin' about this? You are a fool", the figure growled, dropping the blade point first into the ice.
Rather than stick into the surface like expected, the blade faded through it, leaving the surface unscathed. The Canadian took a step back, somewhat frightened by the act.
"Let's play a game. You have until this world crumbles around you to find your... sword. You do not want to lose", the being giggled and skated around the ice rink on his own pair of skates. He skated around the Canadian, who stared blankly at the ice. He saw it fall through the ice... it had to be in there!
-----
If Jackson Pollock painted a panting with only the color red, it would describe the Canadian. The sick grin still plastered over his face, the scout's body had been dumped into the fountain, staining the clear water with crimson.
The Canadian let out a blood curdling howl and lean down at the edge of the stone fountain's edge, gripping tighter and tighter until his fingernails threatened to tear off. Gravity could only do so much alone so he dove his skull to the edge of the fountain with a sickening crack.
He sobbed and giggled, lifting his head back towards its starting position. His own blood dripped from the large gash in his forehead from the headbutt. He couldn't feel anything. He couldn't feel the snapping of his fingers' bones as he gripped the fountain with a force his hands could not sustain. He couldn't feel the crack in his skull. No pain, nothing.... only instinct... the sword's instinct inhabited the man's mind.
---------
The Canadian cried out in desperation as the figures of various people of his past faded away, leaving only the ghost, the Canadian, and his bloody hands to the task at hand. The test had been a failure on the man's part. His mind was closed only to what he saw... a metaphorical sword falling through metaphorical ice. It was all a dream but this man was convinced it was real. The pressure to succeed was pressing him.
The Canadian failed to do more than leave bloody scratch marks in the ice. The soldier sat there weeping cradling his mangled and broken hands as Zangetsu skated lightly around him. He frowned and shook his head. His expectations weren't particularly high for this specimen but he could have done more, thought of something else.
"Hmmm seems you broke before you could fail.... too bad..", Zangetsu left the man to his broken sobs. The test might as well be over. Physically and spiritually the man was broken. He shrugged and severed his connection to the man, returning to the void of his blade.
---------
The electric yellow eyes faded leaving empty brown ones in its wake. The man fell headfirst unconscious into the fountain. The broken, blood-stained man would drown in the Fountain of Infinity... how poetic.
Zangetsu was laying flat on the gore covered ground. Internally he was tired, drained from the connection he had with the meaningless fool.
What a day...
(exit thread)