♥ 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒚 ★

xx Score

     Harsh light is dimmed from his ruby-cast vision, the roar of the crowd a pitched droning in his ears. This location isn't ideal. He's too exposed, but his previous perch is now a smoldering mess, lichtenberg figures scorching half the arena. Ozone and salty metal in its wake. He isn't physically injured but it feels as if a layer was seared from his skin. The air stings at his exposed forearm.
A few seconds to take stock of his current state- then he filters it all away. All that matters are the figures flitting at the end of his scope. Score adjusts his rifle and slowly tracks a dark figure across the rocky terrain. She doesn't rank high on his list of threats, but one less body is always a good thing...Or it should be.
He hesitates, recalling his most recent brush with death. Normally, this wouldn't be enough to faze him.
But those eyes.
Score was made for mindless killing. The loss of life has less of an impact through the scope of Vega. It's nothing personal, he's simply an implement of fate.
One and done, they said.

Score has rarely had to face the aftermath of his kills. No reason to wonder at the grieving families; the possibility of the corpses' tortured pasts, a funeral attended only by scavengers-
He packs up his rifle and crosses the name off the list. Only his own past influences his nightmares as he takes brief naps in an abandoned house, a hidden vehicle, or atop a tree- rarely in 'his' bed.
That gaze.
He is no longer sure what form his nightmares will take now that he has another aspect of his past to torment him.

His head burns. There's an abrupt squeezing of his heart. Clammy, cold, it hurts- what why why-
Score chokes out a pained breath, rolling to the side and half-falling off the jagged ledge. He pulls his gun up as he does, just in time as that awful, piercing sound precedes a shining bullet that utterly decimates his perch. He flips as he falls, catching a glimpse of a shadowy figure before shrapnel impedes his view. Instinct allows him to land silently and without issue, ducking into cover and swiftly dissembling the sniper rifle and rotating its parts into a form that will allow him to be more accurate with closer shots. There's a target on his back now, he no longer has the luxury of sniping from afar.

The clanging of metal and thuds of boots echo above him and he takes the opportunity to slink further away to find better cover.
^I have fifteen minutes

Tianwei interrupts his thoughts, visible strain in his soft voice.

That's all I need^

Score assures him, rising briefly to send two shots into an approaching woman's armored chest before kneeling to avoid returning fire.
With the opposing team assured of their victory they've become cocky and therefore, sloppy. Firefights aren't his preferred method for...disposal but Score can hold his own well enough. What causes him to sweat is the ever present feeling of cold fire at his back. His breathing is steady and his shots are true but he...doesn't think he can bear to turn around.

^Damnit, time's up

Tianwei sounds remarkably calm for someone who has unleashed a loose cannon on his partner.

It's all the warning he gets before a boot slams into his chest and sends him- very far. Score tumbles, scrapes skin, there's a crunch from the hand that refuses to release his gun. He comes to a stop with another pained exhale, but turns his final roll into a flip that ends with him in a crouch, front-sight leveled on his attacker.

He can hear the sound of light steps even through the pain, cheers, his stuttering heartbeat. The tinkle of chains, buckles on an open coat. Tap-tap of ringed fingers on the grip of a smoking gun.

The man approaches him with a pensive expression, scarred features no longer twisted in anger. His right hand displays a silver coin, it dances between his knuckles and is occasionally flipped into the air. He comes to a stop and catches it for a final time, rather abruptly. After a tense moment, he lifts the opposite hand to reveal the side it had landed on.

Score knows not to shoot, but he doesn't lower his gun. Every support aspect of his visor has been enabled to better ensure his survival. Temperature is gradually cooling, no significant kinetic movements, concealed weapons but hands are plainly displayed-

A slow, steady smile transforms the man's handsome face. It is warm, for all intents and purposes but it doesn't reach his implacable eyes.
All members of his current team are dead. Tianwei and Score are all that's left of their own. The crowd are clearly anticipating a final showdown between the remaining fighters but his opponent holsters his gun. This fails to make Score feel any safer.

"Not here." He promises threatens.

[ The site hates me so I currently can't post or edit the character page. I can only reach this page. Once. Before the session 'times out' and I get kicked off. ;;; I can post on my phone but I can't edit either ]

[ On another note...Sengoku is the leader of an unaffiliated team and anyone is welcome to create a character to join. ^^]

( if you’re using a vpn pro boards will usually block you after a bit )