Frost blew out a puff of smoke as he stepped into the room. "Nice place. A little too..." He waved his cigarette hand a little at the walls. "...white though. Pretty fucking boring. But hey, whatever makes you happy, gets you off, that kinda thing
( ... )
Kenneth raised his head, offering Frost a hint of something that could have been a smile. "Call me Kenny. Only the lackies call me Master Kenneth." He snorted, still flipping through channels. "I like children. They're all soft and squishy, and with so much potential. Much better than adults in that respect. All their lives stretched out in front of them. Very potent." He waved the knife lazily.
"So, little Blood God... what brings you to me tonight? After all these years of silence, what brings you out?" Kenny sat up, impossibly black eyes locking on Frost's, boring into him. He leaned forward a bit. "You know, those things are bad for you."
"Kenny." Frost seemed to weigh the word as he said it. "All right. And you can call me Deacon, since we're getting all nice and fucking cozy."
Frost came further into the room and plopped down in a chair, making himself comfortable. He lounged back and took another drag, taking in his surroundings a bit more but mostly keeping his attention on Kenny.
"So you like kids?" Frost snorted in amusement. "Yeah, I can tell. You had a whole little daycare center type thing going on in the street. But I can agree with one thing; they are soft and squishy."
At Kenny's question, he leaned forward a little, now peering intently at the magus, meeting Kenny's black gaze with his own. "I'm out because it's what the prophecy predicted. I'm out because I had the initiative to fucking do something for my race instead of sitting back twiddling my fucking thumbs while my stocks rose. But if you mean why the ten year slump? Yeah, well, I'm a little new at this whole ascension to godhood thing. I've got the power down, but I was still able to be
( ... )
"Temporary set backs, all of them." Kenny said with a little wiggle of his fingers. "I know a thing or two about blood gods in all their many and veried forms. I can help you." He grinned up at the ceiling, his teeth faintly glowing in the TV's light.
"There's a price, of course." He twirled the knife between his fingers, watching the light move across the blade. "Value for Value. You want to be a god, with all the rights and powers that come with that. I can help you with that."
The immortal was quiet, not smiling.
"How much do you actually know about me and mine, Deacon?"
Kenny settled at the bar, poking the dubious snacks with one thin finger. His eyebrows came together, forming a thin v as he regarded the mystery snack as if he expected it to get up and walk out at any second. Surprisingly, it didn't
( ... )
Frustration was an unbearably human trait; one Alkhema was loath to admit she felt. But, in all truthfulness, what else could she designate the feeling of immense rage within her at the overwhelming lack of results in her search? It was entirely probable that the robot had simply been looking in the wrong places; after all the new Vision couldn’t possibly have any idea she was searching for him. To be more accurate, she very much doubted that anyone, Avenger or otherwise, was even aware that she was not as dead as they believed. It would have been more logical for them to anticipate that, as a synthetic being, she was not limited by mortality as they were, especially when their own had such a tendency to return from death so frequently. But that would be giving them too much credit, they were human and thus could not be expected to act in anything resembling an intelligent fashion
( ... )
Kenny cocked his head to one side and studied the girl he couldn’t feel and who talked like one of his sister Nessie’s toys, drumming the knife on the counter top. There was still a little blood on it. “I used magic to make him think he couldn’t breath,” he explained with a small shrug. “I don’t think I actually want to drink any lemonade served here, anyway. Probably full of alcohol. It’s bad for you, you know. Does all sorts of nasty things to your liver.”
He spun around on the barstool a few times, until this bored him. “You aren’t human.” Statement of fact. No real emotion behind it besides a hint of curiosity. “I don’t think I’m imagining you. I haven’t imagined people in centuries. So, who are you?”
“I used magic to make him think he couldn’t breath,” he explained with a small shrug.
Magic. Alkhema should have guessed that the supernatural was somehow involved, especially considering the man’s non-human physiology. She wasn’t fond of magic, as it was much too erratic and fluid for her tastes. In addition, it was loath to her because, from experience, she knew it was one of the few things that could pierce her adamantium armor. Though, it may simply have been the Scarlet Witch’s probability altering magic, tampering with vulnerable insides though an indestructible shell. After all, adamantium was a steel alloy, and steel was made of iron, the bane of magic. In any case, the cold efficiency of technology suited the robot just fine; at least machinery didn’t have hidden costs like spells.
“I don’t think I actually want to drink any lemonade served here, anyway. Probably full of alcohol. It’s bad for you, you know. Does all sorts of nasty things to your liver.”Alkhema shook her head faintly, donning a look of thoughtful
( ... )
Comments 51
Reply
"So, little Blood God... what brings you to me tonight? After all these years of silence, what brings you out?" Kenny sat up, impossibly black eyes locking on Frost's, boring into him. He leaned forward a bit. "You know, those things are bad for you."
Reply
Frost came further into the room and plopped down in a chair, making himself comfortable. He lounged back and took another drag, taking in his surroundings a bit more but mostly keeping his attention on Kenny.
"So you like kids?" Frost snorted in amusement. "Yeah, I can tell. You had a whole little daycare center type thing going on in the street. But I can agree with one thing; they are soft and squishy."
At Kenny's question, he leaned forward a little, now peering intently at the magus, meeting Kenny's black gaze with his own. "I'm out because it's what the prophecy predicted. I'm out because I had the initiative to fucking do something for my race instead of sitting back twiddling my fucking thumbs while my stocks rose. But if you mean why the ten year slump? Yeah, well, I'm a little new at this whole ascension to godhood thing. I've got the power down, but I was still able to be ( ... )
Reply
"There's a price, of course." He twirled the knife between his fingers, watching the light move across the blade. "Value for Value. You want to be a god, with all the rights and powers that come with that. I can help you with that."
The immortal was quiet, not smiling.
"How much do you actually know about me and mine, Deacon?"
Reply
Reply
Reply
He spun around on the barstool a few times, until this bored him. “You aren’t human.” Statement of fact. No real emotion behind it besides a hint of curiosity. “I don’t think I’m imagining you. I haven’t imagined people in centuries. So, who are you?”
Reply
Magic. Alkhema should have guessed that the supernatural was somehow involved, especially considering the man’s non-human physiology. She wasn’t fond of magic, as it was much too erratic and fluid for her tastes. In addition, it was loath to her because, from experience, she knew it was one of the few things that could pierce her adamantium armor. Though, it may simply have been the Scarlet Witch’s probability altering magic, tampering with vulnerable insides though an indestructible shell. After all, adamantium was a steel alloy, and steel was made of iron, the bane of magic. In any case, the cold efficiency of technology suited the robot just fine; at least machinery didn’t have hidden costs like spells.
“I don’t think I actually want to drink any lemonade served here, anyway. Probably full of alcohol. It’s bad for you, you know. Does all sorts of nasty things to your liver.”Alkhema shook her head faintly, donning a look of thoughtful ( ... )
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