It all goes to hell faster than I expected. If only we had somebody capable of actually standing toe-to-toe with our adversary, that would have been great. But the real world isn’t like this. It’s harsh. It doesn’t forgive mistakes. In the real world, you never have any advantages, not for real.

I see the car soar through the air. It would normally be impossible, but for a cape, such a word usually means nine-out-of-ten possibility of happening. And before I can bark an order, somebody acts. Ian - alias Luxurias - is a fine asset. A good solider one day, maybe. Still needs more training, but I know he has a bright head on his shoulders, all things considered. 

“Son of a gun.” I flash him a thumbs-up. I’ve read before about the importance of high morale and positive stimuli. I’ll make sure to go easy on his next time we do close-quarters training. And then, he goes even further. Indeed, he is one hell of an asset. 

“Nice.” I look around and… people act strange. In a hellish landscape like this, with all destruction and cruelty being laid bare, people are following some kind of a tune, seemingly convulsing in some kind of a mysterious pattern. They are dancing, my mind responds.

I don’t curse. “Shit!” Normally. And this situation - whatever the hell it was - was beyond normal, even following my twisted definition. I spat an array of obscenities before I regain my composure. I still have a mission; I have to finish this. I’m sure that once anybody sees the footage, the whole team fiasco will go straight to hell. 

“Swarm! I need some cover!” I leap forward and in instant, I’m not Network anymore. I’m not Robert Calvert. I’m not a hero. I’m not a person. I’m a weapon. I’m seventy-two. I see my target. I have to eliminate my target. And there’s nothing in this world but me and my target. I’ll kill this person…

No! I snap out of my battle trance and in the last moment, move the hit that would’ve killed a grown man - magically-enhance power or not - into a sloppy attack that probably won’t even scratch her. I don’t why... why does this happens? I don’t know. 
I should ask my mentor… but I don’t want to. For now, I should do what I do best: hurting people. And after this… I’ll need some patrol duty in the field to went the frustration. 

[hr]

Moves:

Directly Engage the Threat: [url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/rolls/1233]4[/url]