[ That the authority figure might be armed is something Maine hasn't considered. But honestly, he doesn't really care. Bullets have never stopped him before. He's utterly intent on his goal, fueled by fury that fills him to the brim, and—
Something happens. For an instant, Maine's chest glows. A power he has no conscious control over activates for the second time. His intent to interrogate vanishes, replaced by bloodlust that screams through his veins, and—
And…
His surroundings vanish. He's back in his body in New Amsterdam. The building manager disappears.
It only lasts for a second. Just long enough for Maine's unconscious mind to realize that the focus of his anger is gone. Then his power deactivates, the cave reappears around him, and Maine slams back into the here and now.
… What the fuck?
Maine falters, his mind reeling as it struggles to process what he just saw. His stance changes, wariness transforming offense to defense. And then a voice penetrates his thoughts. A word — a name — that his anger silenced. It's not one to which he's entirely accustomed to responding, but it's a language that he knows. One that he's only recently begun to reclaim, but has never actually forgotten.
He turns his head. Sees a tall man with broad shoulders rushing towards him. A familiar man. Displaced. Elbow bumps. Drake.
Maine turns his gaze back to the official, but he doesn't advance. His thoughts churn with anger and confusion and alarm, but he stays where he is. Waiting for Drake. ]
no subject
Something happens. For an instant, Maine's chest glows. A power he has no conscious control over activates for the second time. His intent to interrogate vanishes, replaced by bloodlust that screams through his veins, and—
And…
His surroundings vanish. He's back in his body in New Amsterdam. The building manager disappears.
It only lasts for a second. Just long enough for Maine's unconscious mind to realize that the focus of his anger is gone. Then his power deactivates, the cave reappears around him, and Maine slams back into the here and now.
… What the fuck?
Maine falters, his mind reeling as it struggles to process what he just saw. His stance changes, wariness transforming offense to defense. And then a voice penetrates his thoughts. A word — a name — that his anger silenced. It's not one to which he's entirely accustomed to responding, but it's a language that he knows. One that he's only recently begun to reclaim, but has never actually forgotten.
He turns his head. Sees a tall man with broad shoulders rushing towards him. A familiar man. Displaced. Elbow bumps. Drake.
Maine turns his gaze back to the official, but he doesn't advance. His thoughts churn with anger and confusion and alarm, but he stays where he is. Waiting for Drake. ]