KP - Episode 19 (All-Patrons)

Words Count: 4743

A/N: Finally recovered from my burnout, been dealing with all the shit my parents heaped on me and I have to be honest, I feel better. Lighter. For the first time in my life, even though my story isn't doing as well as I'd have liked, I can finally see a light at the end of this tunnel. It's like I've been chained for years and only now noticed it. It feels… Good. If you can’t tell, the fighting between Julian and Julius reflects my own mental battles as well.

(‘Maybe if I do more around the house–’

Those were the thoughts of the six years old as he scurried around the house, a broom in his left hand; a mop in his right. It took him ages to clean everything up- the dust, the now faded stains, the trash bags that have been piling up.

The glass shards of bottles that must've been thrown with how they're positioned.

He had never tried to clean after her before, and every time he did, he'd be shooed or- on worse nights- cussed out, slapped,…etc.

‘‘̽̅Y̨̰̤̌ͯ̀o̧͍͂ͫu̶̡̘̎̌ͥ͝ͅ͏’̛̻̩͛̔r͉̱̮͆̇̅e͚̒҉̧̀͞ ̡̡͙̮ͤ̀͡͞j͛̋́͘͡ū̶̝҉̴͢s̢̛̜̠̀́t̻ͬͣ̿̆͏͜͡ ̾̓̾ͦ̀͟͏̀g̛̬̺̀́͟ȏ̓̅́͜͠͞ḯ̷̼̥̀͟͝n̩̽͊̄̓g̳͒̈́͂̽ ̧̡͓̪̞͆͆̉ͬṫ̪͍̃o̖̳͍ͥͭ͂̕ ̰͆͒r̡̬̯̪̓̀͞uͅi̵͠͏n̴͎̟̪̒ ̣͚̣ͭͮi̡̗̯̇̿tͩ̓̇͊,̼͍ͦ͊͒̚͟ ̵͟l̡̬̪̿́͟iͨ̑̈́͏͡͡k̴̸̛̼͔̘̅ͦ͜è͇̗̰͝ ̷͔̣ͪ͗h̪̍ͭ̐͞o̡̡̺̲ͩ͜͢w̵̸̜ ̢̮ͥ̒̑y̠̙̻ͨ̅̌҉̕o̧͎̽ͬͪ̄͡u ̢̹̦̺̎̊̈́r̩̤̲̋u̯͟i̘n͕͂̐̃͠e̶̠͓̥ͯ̐͋̏͝ḏ̫̟ͦ̐ ̐͐̂͗̕҉͟m̨̥͙̦ͬ̽ͮ͒͞͏̴y͕̱͂̌͟͢͡ ̵̴̹ͤ͗ͩ͑l̷̮̙̳͋̎͠͡i͈̟͎̾ͣ́̕͞f̶̢̒̈̀e̹̤ͭ̓ͪ.̹̳’̬̩ͫ̏͟ͅ͏’

She didn't like to clean either, so their house had always been a mess, but recently a friend of his had told him how her parents rewarded her with 10 bucks for washing the dishes.

He didn’t need the money, he just wanted her to look at him with pride in her those emerald eyes- the same pair he himself had inherited.

‘It couldn’t hurt.’

His juvenile mind thought as scrubbed the floor squeaky-clean.

It took him ages to complete, but the place actually looked somewhat… Livable now. Smile blooming on his lips, he sat near the door in anticipation of her return. Exhaustion coursing through his appendages, he waited and waited and waited, until sleep inevitably took him to dreamland. The boy awoke to footsteps in the house, and like a moth to a flame, he jumped to welcome her. “Mom!”

She must’ve thought he's too tired…

That’s why she didn’t wake him– ‘That must be it!’

Little as his legs were, they proved quite fast- fueled by a childish eagerness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Look! Look! Look what I did!”

Then she turned back, and his enthusiasm’s gone. “What?!”

She asked, voice thick with anger and oddly enough, a sense of resignation.

“I- I–”

Words failed him, yet he managed to push past the fear- past his survival instinct which was screaming at him to shut up. To be seen and not heard.

“I- I cleaned the house today!”

He said, anticipating a reaction- something-

Anything at all…

He'd have been fine with her usual outbursts, stupid as that sounded.

Instead, all he got was a dismissive hum, so he pushed again. “Do- Do you like it?”

“I guess.”

Was her answer as she lied back down, burying herself under a blanket and a mountain of pillows. For some reasons, that hurt him far more than a hurtful tirade would have, and the boy went to bed that day, angry yet confused by her reaction. An insult here; a slap there he could handle.

Those he understood,

But dismissiveness…

That was new, and it’s terrifying.

‘What did I do wrong?’

He’d spend the whole week pondering the question, agonizing over the matter before ultimately turning to–)

With a dismissive look, I rest my head on my wrist, elbow propped on my knees, and scowl as I say, "That's not all, of course. I’m gathering information as well." We don't have any clue about the whereabouts of our stolen pet, and even the Hydra soldiers we incapacitate are clueless because their vehicles are remotely controlled.

Our only lead is the traitor.

We must find him, or her, it could very well be a her.

"Not like this!" Our progeny shouts, standing protectively over the townspeople, and my Alter-Ego follows suit. 'He's not wrong... This situation is messed up. We should not blame the many for the sins of one. It’s not right.’

I close my eyes, contemplating silently, and answer- my voice uncharacteristically soft, "In the military, when one soldier makes a mistake, the entire platoon is punished.

There's a reason for this, my sired." It's almost... Sad that I have to explain this to the Mask and our progeny- sad that they are so foolishly idealistic. 'Screw you, Julian. I would rather be hopeful and stupid than live as a cynical miser like you.'

I don't dignify his ridiculous response with a reply. Instead, I stand up and continue, raising a finger.

"First, it creates camaraderie among all members and establishes a hierarchy, which is essential for a military organization to function." The private starts to protest, but I silence him with a hush. "Relax, I'm not done yet."

Raising a second finger, I tilt my head. "Second, it serves to shame and correct undesirable behaviors like laziness and recklessness out of individuals."

I approach the man, towering over him.

In spite of Bryan's imposing stature, my presence- the way I carry myself forces him to take the weaker position in our exchange. "If we excuse and forgive one person's betrayal, these maggots will begin selling us out for any gain they can get. That's how it works- That's how the majority of Humanity behaves… We spare one, and the rest will walk all over us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Bryan speaks through gritted teeth.

“Don’t I?”

Normally, I’d not have minced words but it was us who gave him a second life, hence it is our responsibility to help him navigate the world. In a sense, Pvt. Bryan James Carsten can even considered our… Son. Our first child, born from the potent sludge coursing through our veins. “I know, because I’ve been there.”

I feel slender fingers caressing my back, followed by the choked sobs and cries of a woman, begging- pleading for forgiveness… The next day, everything would resume as normal and we'd be thrown in that vicious cycle again- stuck without a direction or purpose because we’d excuse her shitty parenting and behaviors. If it’s not her fault; it had to be ours or the circumstances. “Third, if we don’t force them, do you think the traitor will reveal their hands? This. Is. Necessary.”

I spell out every word viciously.

Our exchange isn’t lost on the hurdled townspeople, and instantaneously, one clamors in hope of swaying our progeny against us. “Sir Bryan! Help us, that guy is crazy!”

‘Guess I’ll have to make an example of one today.’

My Mask joins in, ‘Don't–!’

But the order has already been sent, and like a bloodthirsty beast, one of the Necromorphs- mine- exacts retribution. It howls madly, leaping on the crippled, its spike prickling the maggot’s joint which causes him to scream in agony, one singular tear dripping from his eye… During the whole ordeal, my gaze never leaves Bryan’s.

Words that most will probably feel are callous escape my lips as my face twists in disgust. Where was this courage when Jaime’s serving himself on a platter? I was never going to hurt the boy, obviously, but he and the rest of these cowards weren’t aware of that. “Did I allow you to speak, you fucking filth?” Two voices, joined at the hip with how in sync they are, call out to me- the Mask’s and our progeny’s. “JULIUS!”

‘Julian, stop this instance!’

‘Shut your mouth.’

I hiss at Julius. ‘You’ve had your fun. Now, it’s my turn.’ Setting my glare on the crippled, I search through his flailing form and managing to discover something quite odd. Aside from the muddy outfit and dirty appearance he has, the man looks rather… Well-fed compared to the rest of the maggots, with a healthy pink complexion.

I scan the crowd, searching for any possible member of his family, but none of them appear distinguishable. ‘Now, the question arises: how could a crippled afford such a… Extravagance lifestyle with no one to support him? It's rather suspicious, wouldn’t you agree?'

My smirk grows, hinting at a deeper understanding. “You… What’s your name?”

The maggot stammers. “I- I–”

“Julius, I know you’re upset but this isn’t right!”

The private jumps in between the crippled and I, his back straighter than a spear.

There's a sense of trepidation in his eyes- a fear that mirrors the townspeople, but unlike them, Bryan does not back down, his wings stretched challengingly… Delight surges in my heart, unfortunately any semblance of pride I feel is eclipsed by an intense rage. “You would betray your Sire for these- these mutts? Have you forgotten what I gave you? The power you wield was a gift from me. Without it, you’d be just another name on a long list of casualties.”

“I know.” He nods. “That’s why I’m back in France to begin with. I’m thankful, God knows I am, but this- what you’re doing, it isn’t right. These people don’t deserve this.”

“Oh, but they do.”

I let loose a menacing laugh, shoving him asides and advancing towards the cripple. “Are you deaf?” Only to feel a hand on my shoulder, yanking me back violently. Skidding across the ground, I roll and land in a crouch. “Oh-Well… Teaching children is a father’s responsibility.”

I’m not sure if I’m proud, or disappointed anymore. Even a child like Jaime understands the need for a little cruelty in situations like this,

The Mask, I can kind of understand but I had expected Bryan of all people to be wiser, given his abundant trove of life-experiences.

From a logical standpoint, our little pet’s existence is worth far more to the war effort than this useless bunch, plus her being in the hands of actual Nazis who are more likely than not to experiment on her will give them another leg-up against the Alliance. Why don’t they get that? It’s not that difficult of a concept to grasp. Why can’t they see it?

Why can’t anyone understand?

‘Just because it’s the correct course of actions doesn’t mean it’s the right or just thing to do.’

I nearly burst into laughter. ‘What does it matter? What has being just or right given us?’

Julius immediately quiets down, speechless, thus, “Killing you will be a waste–” I start to address Bryan. “But a beating shouldn’t hurt.” Wings stretched, the private launches himself towards me. He’s fast and quite a bit stronger than we were, but with the Klyntar on our side and the radiations, the outcome of our battle has already been predetermined… Quickly, I sidestep his speeding form. Hand shaped into a claw, I grab his face, slamming him on the ground, before kicking him at the well.

I can tell from the disbelief in his eyes that Bryan hasn’t expected to lose so quickly. It’s completely understandable given how our first ever battle ended, but I’m not Julius. I’m not a pacifist, and since he's dared to take a swing and at his own Sire. “You should be prepared to get your ass beat, right?”

I whisper in Bryan’s ear as he whizzes by, unfeeling glare burning holes in his face. During that time, my tendrils have latched onto his leg, and with a yank much like how he did me earlier, send him crashing through the wall of an empty house.

Scoffing, I turn away from the battered man and mutter quietly. “Know your place.” Casting a glance at the group, I realize the cripple has managed to scramble off several feet from his original position, but– “Where do you think you are going, you filth?” On cue, a Slasher, as if having read my mind, jump to block his path. ‘Useful things, these are.’

I chuckle, heart practically bursting from joy as I watch the cripple, slowly moving towards him. That is the difference between a two-bits serial killer and an actual villain: Presentation. “NON! NON! TOI, DÉMON, MONSTRE! Éloigne-toi de moi!”

“Do you have anything to tell me?”

I raise a brow, standing over him whilst the others shiver and shake in fear. “Do you have anything to confess?”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

A burst of rage pulses through me. “Wrong answer.” I gesture at the Necromorph who just screeches with delight as it impales the cripple, leaving a bloody puncture on his knee. “I'll give you one more chance–”

Hand combing through my hair, I put on a dismissive look as if his life-and-death doesn’t matter to me which, in all fairness, it doesn’t.

So what if another useless fucking cripple dies? The world isn’t going to stop to mourn him, and with the state of the world, thousands- perhaps millions are throwing their lives in the trenches every day and night.

What does it matter if one more worthless asshole perishes? “Do you have anything to confess? I want you to tell everyone.”

“I- I–”

“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “Be like that. Kill him.”

The Slasher howls in anticipation, visibly happy that another's joining their ranks so soon. “WAIT! I’LL TALK, I’LL TALK!”

I hide a growing smirk, instead putting on the same cold glare. “Jaime?”

“Yes?!”

“I want you to translate everything he said to the rest.” Under the threat of death, the cripple sings like a canary. He talks in details about all the things he did: From providing information to the Reich about the army’s movements which led the Axis Powers occupy their lands; notify them of any potential uprising and causing the deaths of nearly all able-bodied men in the tiny town; to tipping them off in regard to our arrival. In return, he’s spared and given plenty of foods and drinks.

Being a crippled drink, no one questioned why all the men were killed except him.

In their minds, what good can a cripple do?

With that… Immaculate pretense, he has managed to avoid suspicion until now- until we arrived. The horrified looks on the townsfolks, which slowly but surely turn to rage, amuse me. ‘So they are cowards and idiots… If this reflects the whole population, it’s no wonder France surrendered so easily… What about you?’

Smug grin spreading across my face, I taunt. ‘Anything to say?’

It takes a while for Julius to respond, but eventually, he does. ‘Being effective, it does not give you the right to treat everyone like horseshit, Julian. What if you were wrong? What then?’

‘But I wasn’t.’ I hiss.

‘If you were, what then?’

He continues to drill, and my mood immediately plummets. ‘What if he had been innocent? You would have scared the townspeople for nothing- harmed a disabled person for nothing!’

‘War’s cruel, you ungrateful fuck–!’

A loud smack stops our heated exchange. Turning to find one of the women, Jaime’s mother if my memory hasn’t failed me, slapping the traitor. “Espèce de salaud… Rends-moi mon mari!” Neither of us knows French, but we don’t need to.

Judging from the hurt expression she- all the women currently wear, it’s quite clear what she’s saying. Seconds later, several join in the beating until the whole town- even the elderly- are attacking, cursing, spitting at him. "Je l'ai élevé depuis son plus jeune âge, j'ai vu ses premiers pas, j'ai été témoin de sa première bouchée! André, pourquoi? Pourquoi as-tu fait ça?!” An elderly woman wails, clearly more upset than the rest.

Watching this, I mumble.

“Only result matters. Nothing else does.”

‘How can you possibly be a part of me?’

‘You’re wrong…’

I reply with a frustrated scowl. ‘Don’t get it twisted, you are a part of me, not the other way around.’

“ENOUGH!”

I scream, pushing through the group.

“You can’t kill him, not yet.”

One still tries to throw a hit in, but is then stopped by me.

“I said stop. Or have you gone deaf too?” I threaten, though clearly all semblances of fear have left her. When threats don’t work, it’s time for manipulation. “He’s just a small fry. The one responsible for your husband’s or son’s death are the Nazis. Nothing will change even if you kill him now, but–”

‘You make me sick.’

“If you hand him to me…”

I trail, allowing their imagination to do the rest. Jaime and the woman then communicate to the townspeople, and in moments, the crowd split for me like the Red Sea did for Moses. I'm not even going to lie, boy does it boost my ego. ‘People are suffering, and you’re laughing.’

“Call them.” I order. “They must've given you something to communicate with them. Call them… Tell them the Angel of Death's camping on the outskirt of the town to avoid implicating the townspeople. Remember to be vague, you are a smart person- shitty, indeed. But smart nonetheless. You should be very clear of the do’s and don’ts.” Giving them specific details will make whoever responsible for supervising the spies suspicious, but a general location? “If you make a peep about what happened… Ha.”

I laugh, looking at the group that surround us, each practically smoking out of their ears from anger. “Someone, tie this bastard up. Make sure he can’t escape, and remember to give him some food and water. We don’t want him to expire before his usefulness runs its course, do we? I need to talk to Bryan.”

His reputation as the Angel of Death will play a crucial role in locating the Reich's- or is it Hydra's?- Headquarter.

‘This is–’

‘You want your pet back, right?’

That instantly silences the Mask.

‘Then watch… Watch and learn.’

— Kaleidoscopic Polaris —

"Vorsicht... Der Bastard ist mächtig. Wir haben bereits mehrere Einheiten durch ihn verloren." Dressed in advanced suits designed to deafen any sounds they will make and blur their forms, the Hydra soldiers scour the field, careful not to cause a noise while a voice echoes in their ear pieces.

“Der Engel ist nicht so dumm wie das Biest. Beeil dich nicht. Sei nicht leichtsinnig. Wenn du etwas bemerkst, informiere die anderen, bevor du vorgehst. Verstanden?”

Having been debriefed about their target’s enhanced sensory and physical capabilities, the soldiers stay silent, their visors picking up everything- any minor movements that may've been caused by a humanoid. Their suits even have a GPS system that notify them of each other’s location. It is practically impossible to lose, not with the forces and resources they’ve dished out- or so the Hydra soldiers think.

(“Oh, stop with the dreary look.”

Bryan scowls in anger. “You took a whole town hostage! You beat me up and–”

“And got results.”

Julius, or the person wearing his face interrupts. “That’s quite enough. I don’t have time to have this conversation again. Just give me an answer, are you in or out?”

After a brief pause, the private finally nods, albeit reluctantly. “Fine…” Anger gives way to resignation and a new surge of resolve, Bryan questions, “What do I have to do?”)

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of vigilant eyes remain fixated on their every move from high above. A silent observer, like a hawk tracking its prey. A soft trill from the yellow bird signals the imminent threat, and in an instance, Bryan descends from the heavens, slicing through the group of enemies with his wings, effortlessly bisecting two Hydra soldiers in his path.

"KONTAKT! DER ENGEL IST HIER!"

Realizing they’ve been had, the soldiers abandon stealth, their firearms powering up as they light up the dark, all-encompassing sky, but none manages to hit the target. "Komm und stell dich uns, Feigling!"

(“Do what you usually do: Fight.”

The private stares in confusion, even tilting his head ever-so slightly. “How will this help us find their Headquarter?”

The Devil rolls his eyes haughtily, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Relax, I ain’t done yet.” His whole demeanor seems to… Uncoil as a wide, uncanny smile splits his lips. It angers Bryan how amusing Julius appears to find the whole situation, yet he stays his words. “Then, I want you to…” He trails, a thoughtful look on his face as though he's searching for the correct words. “Then I want- Nay, need you to let yourself get captured.”

“WHAT?!”)

His ethereal presence, alongside the darkness that swallows all in its wake makes for quite the eerie experience. Nobody wants to admit it, but as toughened as they are, the soldiers can feel the hair on their napes standing up as coldness courses through their veins.

What little anger or courage they had previously mustered up, dissipate just like that. "Verdammt... Verdammt! Ich habe mich dafür nicht angemeldet!"

“Mir wurde gesagt, wir würden gegen Menschen kämpfen, nicht gegen verdammte Dämonen!” If it could, the yellow lovebird would’ve revealed a toothy and human smirk by now, instead it settles for puffing up its feathers while Bryan, its progeny, leaves a bloody and destructive trail in his wake, slowly picking off the humans below. ‘Stop being so fucking smug already.’

‘How can I?’

The bird- Julian thinks. ‘Everything’s going exactly as planned.’

(“What kind of bullshit are you sprouting? Why'd you want me to lose?!”

Bryan asks, anger bleeding through his orifices and into his tone. “The Hell would that serve but put me- another powered individual- in their hands.”

Disappointment flooding his expression, Julian stills- hand reaching to cover his face, almost as if he’s embarrassed to be seen with Bryan. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” That’s, apparently, not the right answer ‘cause it does nothing but infuriates the private, who tosses on the male equivalent of a pout.

“… For fuck’s sake…” Eyes moving towards the clear sky, Julian lets loose a sigh- his face one that tells a thousand tales as he massages the bridge of his nose. “Why do I have to do all the thinking ‘round here? How have you idiots survived this long? Oh. Oh-Right. I saved your dumbasses, didn’t I?”

“Idiots?” Bryan repeats quizzically. “Plural?”

“If you pretend to be captured, they will bring you right where they’re keeping Nanna. This… Hydra organization, they’re cautious. Not even their soldiers know where the labs are located, the vehicles are also remote-controlled–“

Rather than finishing, Julian lightly shakes the cup in his hand which's full with red wine- the real expensive stuff he had plundered from the traitorous cripple’s stash earlier.

Brows raised expectantly, the Devil holds off, staring at Bryan in anticipation. “You want to tail their vehicles?”

“Atta-boy!”

He claps proudly, before putting a hand over his mouth.

“Wait… Was that racist?”)

Rather than a human, it’s more accurate to say Bryan has become a whirlwind of death. Everywhere he goes, blood is spilt; limbs are scattered and lives taken.

Initially, Hydra sent somewhere around fifty individuals to capture the vaunted and feared ‘Angel of Death’, and of those fifty-something soldiers, only a measly twenty-five are left. All it took was less than a minute, and the beautiful and once blooming field’s splashed crimson. “HALTET EUCH STAND! ICH WIEDERHOLE, HALTET EUCH VERDAMMT NOCHMAL STAND, VERDAMMT!”

The voice behind the coms quickly grows less intense and more calculating, "Formation 3! Bildet einen Kreis, lasst ihn euch nicht einzeln erwischen!"

But it’s useless…

Noticing how well they work together, Bryan changes tactic, picking up anything he can use as a projectile and- at the speed he's throwing them- demolish even the suited soldiers with little difficulty.

“Wir sind verloren!”

(“Remember to put up a fight.”

This only confuses the private further.

“But you just said–”

The unfinished question nearly sends Julian up in a burst of rage, but he manages to hold it in, barely.

“Bryan… Who are you? No. More precisely, what are you?”

Piercing gaze penetrates the private, who gains a thoughtful look. “I’m- I’m the Angel of Death–”

He says, a touch of understanding to his voice. “If I throw the fight too quickly- too easily, it will look strange, won't it?”

Delight lights up his expression. “Now you’re learning.”)

Wings spread, the private spins- sending a hail of sharpened feathers towards the remaining soldiers, pretending as if he's not noticed the Hydra soldier who just circles behind him with a Net Launcher the size of his torso…

The weapon pulses with a strange- blue energy that translates to electricity. With its- his sight, Julian’s able to see how the conversion happens- how the energy seems to expertly twist Space to its desire. ‘Interesting… How’s it doing that?’ One look and he can tell why their pet- why Nanna was not able to free herself in spite of her powers. The Net is interfering with Space in ways he can’t even begin to fathom, which immediately draws his interest as a deep seeded curiosity- one Julius has never had, or rather, has never dared to possess.

‘Wonder how it works…’

(“It’ll be difficult to sell it, but I have a way.” Hand snaking into his pocket, Julian pulls out a cigar– ‘Stop! It’s my body too! Don’t put that fucking poison in it!’

‘Shut it!’

Inhaling the toxic cloud, the Id smirks widely and continues. “From what I've gathered, the ‘Angel of Death’–”

He scoffs at Bryan’s Title, clearly offended that he does not have one, despite being the man's Progenitor. “Has never lost any confrontation he participates in. Whoever is in charge of the Reich- of Hydra seems smart, tricking them will not be an easy task, but it can be done… After being victorious for so such a lengthy period, it only makes sense the Angel will gradually grow complacent, right?”

Julian drags a breath that burns through the cigar, before flicking the cap away. “Besides, with his feathery companion captured, it is very understandable for the Angel of Death to lose himself to blind rage. Hell, one may even say it is expected.”)

“You Nazi bastards… Where is she? WHERE’S NANNA?!”

Both Julius and Julian have to give it to him, Bryan James Carsten is a wonderful actor… Once the World War’s over, perhaps they can leverage his reputation and powers to secure the man a place in Hollywood. That's where the future lies... Where the rich and powerful use their fame to influence the mass. They’ll play the part of the Golden Boy- the good soldier well before retreating into the dark to control the world in secret. ‘You for real think it’s the appropriate time to plan world domination?’

‘Fair…’

For the first time, the two discover something they can agree upon.

‘I suppose I am getting ahead of myself.’

(“Play the part well, and we’ll be inside their little… Science Fair by the evening.

Kill two-thirds of them. No more, no less.

Then just act enraged. You can do that, right? Or do you need me to instruct you on that too?”

Bryan scowls at the lack of confidence evident in Julian’s voice.

“What do you think I am, a three-years-old child?”

A dismissive smile on his lips, the Id stares off in the distance.

“Just making sure.”

He leans on the boulder he’s resting against.

“In my experiences, people often prove… Disappointing.”)

Aware that the play’s close to its end, Julian flies down- avoiding the soldiers and sneaking onto the backpack of one. He's already studied their suits earlier using the mechanic skills they plundered from Isaac Clarke’s mind.

The suits discharge a large amount of electricity when something which resembles a human approaches- someone who, obviously, isn’t wearing the suits themselves, but in this form he’s practically invisible to its defense system. ‘Now all we have to do is wait.’

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?!”

There must be some real emotions put into it, because Bryan doesn’t look at all like he’s merely acting- the way he shakes with rage; the slight yet nevertheless noticeable trembles in his voice; the agitation that consumes his entire being. Rather than acting, it will be more appropriate to say the man’s letting out all of his repressed feelings in the form of anger and frustration.

Everything that proceeds, goes exactly per plans.

Bryan gives a frustrated rant, beating, kicking the fallen soldiers until their ribs make an audible, satisfying crack… None-the-wiser to the hostile who is silently closing in on him until– “ARGH!” The inescapable Net falls on him, crackling with electricity which brings the powerful superpowered human to his knees. "Ziel erfasst! Ich wiederhole, Ziel erfasst!"

The joy in the Hydra soldiers’ voices is audible for all to hear as they return the favor, before one finally speaks into their ear-piece.

“Ziel neutralisiert. Bitte sendet den Fire Hawk!”

And thus, like the poor fools they are, the idiots play exactly in Julian’s hand.

‘Are you watching, Julius?’

No one answers him, not that he needs an answer to begin with.

Bursting with smugness, Julian taunts. ‘Admit it, I am stronger- faster- smarter… I am better!’

Julius concludes. ‘And a shittier person.’