[Nexus] Mallside VI

[Lord Magtok]

Mallside - General

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[Mallside - General]

Libby retains a patient look on her face as Magtok gathers himself back together.

It's a common state of being for her.
Patient.
A necessary trait, for something that must quietly wait off to the side, while Life has its fun and joy, ready to step in and take everything off to the next step when the vibrancy has at long last passed.

Even so-trapped amid the murky depths of frozen time, Magtok is a portal for her into that vibrancy. She can accept comparatively brief delays, for her taste of the light.

Mostly.


"Mm...the latter would seem a rather more efficient means than trying to cram something into a letter itself.
More room to work."

At some point, her bat returned to her hand, idly twirling amidst her fingers.
"Spectacle, however...our victims would require spectacle. Perhaps moreso than just mere scorpions and monkeys could provide."

Spectacle in some form or another seems to be the primary fuel for the Nexus, after all.

"When was the last time you made a properly large scene of yourself?"


Poor J1MMY. What did he ever do?

The truncated cube settles on the ground somewhere near the converted vessel, faintly pulsing at a slightly brighter intensity than it had before.


Given a few minutes, J1MMY will proceed to reactivate...very slowly. From the outer portions inwards, in direct defiance to the proper method by which electronics or organics should operate.
This may or may not be related to faintly detectable energies moving through the gilded patterns recently-grown across the poor thing, connected inwards to a rather dull and boring not-quite-a-cube at its core.

J1MMY will be fine.

"Properly large? Shortly before being harpooned, if I remember correctly. Unless the Zeus business counts, which honestly, I'd rather pretend it wasn't, and the deed was done by some other guy who happened to share the same name as my kind."

The collective does not suffer rebels lightly. The only one without a standing bounty for his death and/or capture happens to be HazMag, and that's only because he's sitting in a cell approximately eleven hours out of every day.

"The big problem is, you can't really plan for, set up, or otherwise force my kind of spectacle. It has to spring forth fully formed, spontaneously, all the important bits and pieces falling into place in my mind in an instant. You can add a few things here and there, edit it a little prior to execution, but for the most part, it just sorta is.

The most one could do, maybe, to try to help trigger a thing like that is to hop in and out of danger, riling up anyone and everyone who could be a decent threat to me, until necessity requires I do something fantastic just to survive, like drop the MagSat out of the sky on someone."

Magtok shrugs.

"That's assuming this spectacle would be of an outright villainous sort, though. It's just as likely I could simply get up on a stage and ham it up there instead of blowing anything up. What if we supersized the scorpions, and gave their victims a two-minute headstart? Work some The Most Dangerous Game into the equation?"

Holy Rot's left shoe, what just happened to J1M?! The Magbots gradually move out of their hiding places and lower their improvised weapons, approaching the reborn robot with caution.

J1MMY? Is that you, or weird alien not-you in your body? Quick, what's sqrt(cos(x))*cos(300x)+sqrt(abs(x))-0.7)*(4-x*x)^0.01, sqrt(6-x^2), -sqrt(6-x^2) from -4.5 to 4.5?

Unless it's no longer J1M in there, he'll give the others the answer, tracing a heart shape in the air with his fingers. Who's to say a spooky cube thing wouldn't know how to use Google and get the same answer, though?