"Father Maxwell" :: [死神] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hellrisen02) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2017-09-11 10:13 pm
hellrisen02) wrote in maskormenacelogs2017-09-11 10:13 pm
Entry tags:
[CLOSED] You Know My Name
WHO: Duo and D33D33
WHERE: a convenient abandoned warehouse nearby Heropa SOMEWHERE
WHEN: Monday 9/11, middle of the night (you ain't sleepin' anyway, boys)
WHAT: Training.
WARNINGS: Likely language, possibly violence?
[It had to happen sometime.]
[Duo stands leaning against a rickety walkway window, overlooking the bay port this creaky old warehouse was sat upon, and observing how the stars shone on the surface of the water. People always waxed poetic about how Earth's oceans were vast, but they weren't, not really; those people had just never spent any real time in open space. Now that was an ocean that would swallow you up.]
[He remembers the bad taste in his mouth when Duo had looked him in the eye, full of determination and a familiarly deep outrage, and demanded to be trained. So much for the end of soldiers; but who was he to deny his own son the same decision he'd made for himself at that age?]
[Eh, he thinks bitterly, popping the last of a snackbar into his mouth. What's one more skidmark.]
[He waits for the kid to show up. He's already gotten the full lay of the warehouse, plotted his attack in advance, figured out exactly the angles and the obstacles he'll need to work with. Just like the old attacks on the OZ bases, really. He had already run the entire scenario though mind, predicted the kid's movements based on what he knows of his training. Based on what the other pilots would do, the ones he was similar to. Had a long thought about the possibilities of his powers based on past imPorts and the vast array of abilities he'd mentally cataloged- wild guesses were all he could make, but failsafes were in place.]
[(What was the worst that could happen? D33 couldn't kill him.)]
WHERE: a convenient abandoned warehouse nearby Heropa SOMEWHERE
WHEN: Monday 9/11, middle of the night (you ain't sleepin' anyway, boys)
WHAT: Training.
WARNINGS: Likely language, possibly violence?
[It had to happen sometime.]
[Duo stands leaning against a rickety walkway window, overlooking the bay port this creaky old warehouse was sat upon, and observing how the stars shone on the surface of the water. People always waxed poetic about how Earth's oceans were vast, but they weren't, not really; those people had just never spent any real time in open space. Now that was an ocean that would swallow you up.]
[He remembers the bad taste in his mouth when Duo had looked him in the eye, full of determination and a familiarly deep outrage, and demanded to be trained. So much for the end of soldiers; but who was he to deny his own son the same decision he'd made for himself at that age?]
[Eh, he thinks bitterly, popping the last of a snackbar into his mouth. What's one more skidmark.]
[He waits for the kid to show up. He's already gotten the full lay of the warehouse, plotted his attack in advance, figured out exactly the angles and the obstacles he'll need to work with. Just like the old attacks on the OZ bases, really. He had already run the entire scenario though mind, predicted the kid's movements based on what he knows of his training. Based on what the other pilots would do, the ones he was similar to. Had a long thought about the possibilities of his powers based on past imPorts and the vast array of abilities he'd mentally cataloged- wild guesses were all he could make, but failsafes were in place.]
[(What was the worst that could happen? D33 couldn't kill him.)]