A Wild Reploid Appears

Blackout didn’t even notice the danger until it was too late. Suddenly tendrils restrained his arms and squeezed his throat, and try as he may to break out of the hold, this fleshy body didn’t have nearly as much strength as his reploid one. The voice, though…he recognized it right away. And he let out a raspy laugh.

Blackout just watched the dreadlocks move, with a sick fascination as it hovered over his vital points. He didn’t seem worried in the slightest—he looked relaxed, even. Almost like he was enjoying this. He chuckled when the blades turned away, giving Umbran a smug look.

“Is that what we’re going to call it? You want to do this ‘right’? How noble of you. So unlike a maverick, don’t you think…?” He grinned, bangs obscuring his face enough to put a dark shadow over his wild eyes.

“I truly am going to enjoy seeing the day you finally give in and become one of us. Tell me, how does the slow decent into madness feel? The sharp pain in your head? The fire in your core? Thrilling, isn’t it? Doesn’t the burn of rebirth hurt in such a wonderful way? I wonder how you will feel, when you finally take the life of an innocent. I can tell you, my first time was a rush~”

Umbran's lips pulled back into a disgusted snarl under his helmet as Blackout went on, hatred at this filthy maverick-turned-human building as he felt a twitch in his core.

People could call it out all they wanted, but Umbran couldn't be convinced otherwise.

He'd spilt too much blood at this point, reploid and human alike. He was a murderer and a monster; a filthy maverick. Was he as bad as the man he had restrained right now? Perhaps not. But he was a maverick nonetheless, with no hope of turning back.

That didn't stop him from turning on his 'fellow' mavericks though. Especially those like Blackout. They were so much more satisfying to exterminate.

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Hasher looked about, he could do with one of those masks this other Reploid had… But first would need to be the base of the outfit… The pants section had a few that caught his eye. Namely a set of dark gray that really should have clashed with this coat… but didn’t? It looked all but made to go with it! 

Boots would probably be a safe bet with these… But what other accessories?

Well, it appeared the guy seemed to get the gist of things quick once he'd found the coat. He was off starting to pick things out, grabbing a pair of dark gray pants first and now seemingly drifting towards footwear.

Umbran was a little surprised at first, but it quickly passed. Perhaps all the man had needed was just a step in the right direction.

Slowly, Umbran drifted to where the shirts were, glancing but not touching until he paused at a particular shirt. Looking over at the man, then back at the shirt, he reached over to lift it from the rack to look it over better.

It was a long-sleeved shirt, with a neon blue geometric pattern starting off with smaller shapes at the top and getting bigger as it went down before it stopped a few inches from the bottom of the shirt. It could work well, but it was whether the man would be willing to try something that wasn't a waistcoat.

Blackout didn’t even notice the danger until it was too late. Suddenly tendrils restrained his arms and squeezed his throat, and try as he may to break out of the hold, this fleshy body didn’t have nearly as much strength as his reploid one. The voice, though…he recognized it right away. And he let out a raspy laugh.

“Challenge you? Hardly. I was just curious when I heard rumors something had happened to you and wanted to see for myself.” Umbran replied, arms folded behind his back. After a pause though, he continued in a dangerous tone.

“Though, I cannot deny how tempted I am to end you here and now at your most vulnerable.” He said, as the blade at the end of the dreadlock wrapped around BO’s neck turned it’s sharp edge towards it, while another dreadlock curled around to press a sharpened point against the man’s chest. Right over where his heart would be. Though, it didn’t quite press enough to pierce the skin past the cloth of his shirt.

A slow hiss left the dark armored reploid. “To rid the world of your filth, when others failed…”