Midnighter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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om_main2015-06-30 06:04 am
om_midnighter) wrote in om_main2015-06-30 06:04 am
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Beyond Thunderdome: Midnighter and Mojo
Midnighter is greeted to the arena by Mojo and his goons.
Midnighter wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed when he came to in a sterile looking room. He trusted his brain's assessment of how long the tranquilizer would have put him under, but there was no way to know how much more they might have shot him up with while he was unconscious.
Most of it was out of his system, now; he could feel it breaking down even as he extended his senses all around him. He was alone and strapped to a chair, the metal restraints around his wrists and ankles enough to keep even him in place. What the fuck was this. The Facility, or somebody else? Rage roiled inside him, at himself for having been caught - but he would make them pay. The first chance he got.
From his office, thanks to closed circuit camera, Mojo Adams watched the young mutant struggle a bit against his bonds, testing them. There it was, that ferocious glare. The kind of glare that said, 'I will fight for my life no matter the cost.' Or, to Mojo's ears, 'entertainment and money.' Which was, to be honest, essentially all a good life needed anyway.
"Domo," he instructed. "Collect Beezer. We have a new recruit to induct to the arena."
The large, pale man pushed himself up to his feet. His suit, despite his size, was impeccably tailored. Quite a contrast, he mused as he began his way towards his new possession's cell, to the rags the boy wore. Exactly the kind of set-up that made entertainment great. Once arrived, he waited until his only mildly-deficient assistants joined him.
Domo opened the door and led the way, Mojo following behind, and Beezer completing their little party. "Welcome, young mutant, to gladiatorial school."
Midnighter took in the three newcomers at a glance, scenarios filing through his head. For once, the lethal ones felt like a fucking comfort, something to reach towards. His glare did not lose its edge, and while he didn't bother wasting any time fighting against his restraints, all of his muscles were tense. "You picked the wrong guy, asshole."
"Au contraire, my foul-mouthed friend," Mojo disagreed pleasantly. "I picked precisely the right one. You look like a fighter, to me. Domo? What do you think?"
Next to him, Domo nodded and made a note on his clipboard. "A fighter."
Mojo looked back at the teen, grinning nastily. "See? Like I said, we pick them well."
"What you're gonna pick well is your teeth, out of the back of your throat," Midnighter replied darkly, and forced himself to relax - as much as he ever could, anyway. There was no point broadcasting the fact that he was ready to jump at their throats at any moment. And besides, he was making another point. "You think I'll fight for you?"
He was perfect. An absolutely perfect specimen. It was a pity about the loss of Shatterstar - the two of them would have been spectacular to watch in the area. "No no, I think you will fight for the spectators. I merely run the arena," he told the new recruit.
Arena. That sounded like - fucking Mojo, and Midnighter wondered where Shatterstar was right now. Off with Dazzler some place? Fuck, but he deserved to kill that motherfucker himself. He'd been quiet for a few seconds, a muscle ticking in his jaw, so he finally answered, "Why the fuck would I do that." It sounded more like a statement of intent than a question.
"Because you have no real choice." Mojo's tone did not change an iota, still more pleasant than anything else. Whether the boy realized it or not, however, there'd been steel behind the large man through the duration of their discussion. He turned to Major Domo. "See to it that he goes through our....orientation. Beezer," he looked at the third man, "assist him."
Finally, Mojo turned to face the teenager once more. "If you have any further questions, direct them to these gentlemen. Adieu, my young friend. I will see you in the arena."
"I'll see you," Midnighter muttered under his breath, watching him turn to go. Fuck, but they'd picked the wrong kid. He'd make sure they realized that very fucking soon.
Midnighter wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed when he came to in a sterile looking room. He trusted his brain's assessment of how long the tranquilizer would have put him under, but there was no way to know how much more they might have shot him up with while he was unconscious.
Most of it was out of his system, now; he could feel it breaking down even as he extended his senses all around him. He was alone and strapped to a chair, the metal restraints around his wrists and ankles enough to keep even him in place. What the fuck was this. The Facility, or somebody else? Rage roiled inside him, at himself for having been caught - but he would make them pay. The first chance he got.
From his office, thanks to closed circuit camera, Mojo Adams watched the young mutant struggle a bit against his bonds, testing them. There it was, that ferocious glare. The kind of glare that said, 'I will fight for my life no matter the cost.' Or, to Mojo's ears, 'entertainment and money.' Which was, to be honest, essentially all a good life needed anyway.
"Domo," he instructed. "Collect Beezer. We have a new recruit to induct to the arena."
The large, pale man pushed himself up to his feet. His suit, despite his size, was impeccably tailored. Quite a contrast, he mused as he began his way towards his new possession's cell, to the rags the boy wore. Exactly the kind of set-up that made entertainment great. Once arrived, he waited until his only mildly-deficient assistants joined him.
Domo opened the door and led the way, Mojo following behind, and Beezer completing their little party. "Welcome, young mutant, to gladiatorial school."
Midnighter took in the three newcomers at a glance, scenarios filing through his head. For once, the lethal ones felt like a fucking comfort, something to reach towards. His glare did not lose its edge, and while he didn't bother wasting any time fighting against his restraints, all of his muscles were tense. "You picked the wrong guy, asshole."
"Au contraire, my foul-mouthed friend," Mojo disagreed pleasantly. "I picked precisely the right one. You look like a fighter, to me. Domo? What do you think?"
Next to him, Domo nodded and made a note on his clipboard. "A fighter."
Mojo looked back at the teen, grinning nastily. "See? Like I said, we pick them well."
"What you're gonna pick well is your teeth, out of the back of your throat," Midnighter replied darkly, and forced himself to relax - as much as he ever could, anyway. There was no point broadcasting the fact that he was ready to jump at their throats at any moment. And besides, he was making another point. "You think I'll fight for you?"
He was perfect. An absolutely perfect specimen. It was a pity about the loss of Shatterstar - the two of them would have been spectacular to watch in the area. "No no, I think you will fight for the spectators. I merely run the arena," he told the new recruit.
Arena. That sounded like - fucking Mojo, and Midnighter wondered where Shatterstar was right now. Off with Dazzler some place? Fuck, but he deserved to kill that motherfucker himself. He'd been quiet for a few seconds, a muscle ticking in his jaw, so he finally answered, "Why the fuck would I do that." It sounded more like a statement of intent than a question.
"Because you have no real choice." Mojo's tone did not change an iota, still more pleasant than anything else. Whether the boy realized it or not, however, there'd been steel behind the large man through the duration of their discussion. He turned to Major Domo. "See to it that he goes through our....orientation. Beezer," he looked at the third man, "assist him."
Finally, Mojo turned to face the teenager once more. "If you have any further questions, direct them to these gentlemen. Adieu, my young friend. I will see you in the arena."
"I'll see you," Midnighter muttered under his breath, watching him turn to go. Fuck, but they'd picked the wrong kid. He'd make sure they realized that very fucking soon.