DANCE FUCKER DANCE -- o, attacker

[Cosmic]

I refused to just stand and watch. If I were to die right here and right now, who cares? I'd probably respawn elsewhere. As much as I would miss everyone in the Ascendants, I refused to stand by and watch as the Freelancers got their asses handed to them.

I crouched down low, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. I was no longer angry. I was cool-headed and my strategic mindset quickly took over. I wanted to land a hard, harsh blow to Maine. Perhaps give the other a scar to remember all of us by. If we couldn't stop him, we could scar him.

I was a tank of sorts in this form as well, but I knew I wouldn't break any of his bones with that damned armor on him. I wish that these fucking Ascendants would stop just standing by and actually help. Roy would probably be able to melt the armor on Maine with the help of others, but no one would step up and I knew it.

I played Halo before. I recognized the armor. I was in that universe and fucking died to the Flood. I was familiar to an extent of how the soldiers from the games worked. But this was real time. Hopedully my knowledge would serve me well in giving the bastard a scar to remember us by.

I crept up as quietly as possible, hopefully out of view of Maine, before I sprinted towards him, hoping to roll him over and shove my long, sharp claws into his already exposed wounds and flesh. Hopefully I landed a few blows before I bounced back, ready to take him on myself if I needed to.