02-16-2016, 07:35 AM
Buried within a tomb of loose stone and rubble, Smith lay still and unmoving. Oh, he was not dead. No, he was merely... considering the battle that had just taken place. It had been quite some time since the ex-Agent had been so thoroughly outmatched in a fight. Not since the time he had been destroyed in that hallway. When Mr. Anderson had done the impossible and not only returned to life, but had completely and utterly surpassed him.
And while another might feel anger, or fear, Smith knew only curiosity. By all definitions, the beast should have been defeated. The weapon that was still gripped in his hand was most devastating and the number of direct hits the program had inflicted on the beast should have been enough to take down any manner of monster. Yet... it still lived. Not only did it live, but it had managed to brush away Smith and his allies like they were flies. Such power would certainly be useful, if he could figure out how to harness it correctly.
The feel and sound of shifting stone alerted Smith to the movement of the others, most likely Mr. Colonel. The man had been caught in the same blast as Smith, after all. It seemed time to make his appearance as well, if only to keep the strangely emotional program named Matrix calm. With, admittedly, some slight effort on his part, the man in the suit pulled himself free of the stone and looked to the others.
Immediately, they began to converse about how to handle the situation. But, there was really only one option. The beast was obviously injured. They were as well, but to leave it as is would invite another group to finish it off. It was unacceptable that their efforts be usurped by any other. While the foursome discussed their plans, Smith took the time to take care of his injuries. Once upon a time, he'd needn't have worried about such trivialities. If he died, he would merely assume a new host. But he was unplugged now, and without his army, Smith needed to be cautious with the body he had.
It seemed that the Agent had managed to avoid too much damage, though his leg would need tending too and his neck was stiff and uncooperative in movement. Still, he was a program, superior to a mortal man. Pain could be set aside, ignored completely, when your mind was merely a digital construct. That was why, when Smith unceremoniously ripped the stone shard from his leg, he made not a sound. His coat came off next, becoming a makeshift bandage for the wound, and he examined his work a moment before nodding. His leg would certainly not be the same, at least not for quite some time, but he didn't need to worry about further damaging himself any longer, so it would do.
In moments, the group of four had regained their composure and were moving towards where the cyberdemon had retreated. And shortly thereafter, they found the creature. There were no words spoken. There was no need. Matrix and Colonel moved to the right, and flesh-bag to the left, the three ready to resume their hit and run tactics on their foe. As for Smith himself... his weapon raised and, without hesitation, he fired. The creature howled as his round found a home within its hoary hide, but Smith did not flinch. His trigger finger moved again and again, the Good Samaritan roaring each time to match the beast. There would be no retreat for it this time.
And while another might feel anger, or fear, Smith knew only curiosity. By all definitions, the beast should have been defeated. The weapon that was still gripped in his hand was most devastating and the number of direct hits the program had inflicted on the beast should have been enough to take down any manner of monster. Yet... it still lived. Not only did it live, but it had managed to brush away Smith and his allies like they were flies. Such power would certainly be useful, if he could figure out how to harness it correctly.
The feel and sound of shifting stone alerted Smith to the movement of the others, most likely Mr. Colonel. The man had been caught in the same blast as Smith, after all. It seemed time to make his appearance as well, if only to keep the strangely emotional program named Matrix calm. With, admittedly, some slight effort on his part, the man in the suit pulled himself free of the stone and looked to the others.
Immediately, they began to converse about how to handle the situation. But, there was really only one option. The beast was obviously injured. They were as well, but to leave it as is would invite another group to finish it off. It was unacceptable that their efforts be usurped by any other. While the foursome discussed their plans, Smith took the time to take care of his injuries. Once upon a time, he'd needn't have worried about such trivialities. If he died, he would merely assume a new host. But he was unplugged now, and without his army, Smith needed to be cautious with the body he had.
It seemed that the Agent had managed to avoid too much damage, though his leg would need tending too and his neck was stiff and uncooperative in movement. Still, he was a program, superior to a mortal man. Pain could be set aside, ignored completely, when your mind was merely a digital construct. That was why, when Smith unceremoniously ripped the stone shard from his leg, he made not a sound. His coat came off next, becoming a makeshift bandage for the wound, and he examined his work a moment before nodding. His leg would certainly not be the same, at least not for quite some time, but he didn't need to worry about further damaging himself any longer, so it would do.
In moments, the group of four had regained their composure and were moving towards where the cyberdemon had retreated. And shortly thereafter, they found the creature. There were no words spoken. There was no need. Matrix and Colonel moved to the right, and flesh-bag to the left, the three ready to resume their hit and run tactics on their foe. As for Smith himself... his weapon raised and, without hesitation, he fired. The creature howled as his round found a home within its hoary hide, but Smith did not flinch. His trigger finger moved again and again, the Good Samaritan roaring each time to match the beast. There would be no retreat for it this time.