i belong to the blank generation,

[thingpuncher]

WHO? midnighter thingpuncher & angel circumspector
WHAT? two cybernetically enhanced human weapons walk into a bar... one says 'ow'.
WHEN? after shapergate, but before theyre all flushed into space.
ANYTHING ELSE? uh.

Midnighter kind of looks like a mess.

Liberally splattered with drying flecks of blue shaper blood, he's sitting outside the entrance of Capsule 14 drinking something out of a can and staring blearily into the distance. It's not beer. He's not super into beer, not really. If he's going to drink, it might as well have more flavor than shitty pool water. But it's some fizzy drink one of the droids in the mess hall gave him, and it's... okay.

Really, he's just here because a kid asked him to be here, and Midnighter is a reckless murderer who genuinely enjoys the sound of bones crunching under his fists, but he's good for his word. When you are what he is, you've gotta have some ground level consistency, or you're just a serial killer.

So he sips his drink and he waits, participating in the world's most boring stakeout. Don't let anyone kill the fifty fucking dangerous aliens a teenager has been collecting in his apartment. Why is he doing this again?

Comments

[thingpuncher]

Midnighter shrugs. Killing people is whatever. He leans back, casual.

"Did they deserve it?"

[circumspector]

Her eyes drop, her head shaking. It's nothing she's proud of. Because there was no one in that situation that had a choice - not her, not the scientists. They had too, just like she had too.

"Some of them... I guess. They were scientists. A lot of them were there because if not... their families would be killed. Others... the chance of running experimenting on a siren? It was one in a million."

Paid for it, is the silence at the end of the sentence. "Guess that's the nature of experiments. Sometimes they don't go the way anyone expects." A sober, small breath. "I've said it to a few people, they don't really... get it. Things aren't... great where I come from."