Noh-Varr

“Can’t say I disagree, but that’s where these people are right now. We have to at least try to help them. Well. Most of them.” She wasn’t sure Amora or Osborn were ever going to come back from whatever precipice their mentality was perched on.

He’d been surprised and glad to be released during Ultron’s attack to fight alongside the others. However, he had dragged himself painfully away, alone, to lick his wounds and was promptly locked up once again, this time with far less hope than ever before. Noh was finally seeing himself as a tool to be dragged out and used whenever convenient, without any real hope of release.

Sam is about to speak, but pauses, mouth hanging open for a second. “Right, that’s all well and good, but uh, could you clarify somethin’ for me?” He scratches the back of his head, “What in the hell is a terran and why are you killin’ ‘em?”

“A Terran is an Earthperson, and I was killing them because my crew and everyone I ever loved had been desperately transmitting distress signals the entire while they were brutally and efficiently murdered. I’m a Kree supersoldier, and one of SHIELD’s psychopaths for their dumping ground, evidently.”

“May ‘Ah ask why?”

“I agreed to be arrested and taken into Observation because I was tired of running and killing Terrans. I don’t wear restraints to this class for entertainment. What I find irritating is that Observation has become a dumping ground for all the psychopaths SHIELD picks up.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Observation’s become less a place for ‘rehabilitation’ than ‘Cellblock Psychotics’. That was an attempt at sarcasm with truth, by the way.”

Pancakes.

“oh, is this Observation? I must have taken a wrong turn.” 

“How did you even get down here?”

As he followed the sound he slowly extended his claws, his first instinct when something seemed out of place; and the footsteps were definitely out of place. He could tell by how they fell against the ground that it wasn’t a member of the staff. They were far too light, as if it were someone who didn’t want to be found. His suspicions were proven as one of the older students rounded the corner, nearly running into Logan.  “Good.” he growled, retracting his claws. He turned and walked the other direction, hoping the youth would leave him be. He didn’t feel like playing chaperon. “Make sure you get there quick, bub.”

“Sorry about the glass,” he mentioned, thinking mostly of the window he’d crashed through to get in here from the Ultron battle that had occurred a few floors above. He edged away and resumed his journey down.