“Attention dickwads. I'll be turning your lives into chaos … please enjoy.”
A R M O R E D – T I T A N
Th-What the fuck is going on here! He arced his head up in the chaotic room, his arms clasping his hair tightly. Some guy just shot a column of flames out his hand, knocking back far more I-men than he ever could with his fist. Wait, did that girl next to him put it out with water, that spawned from nowhere.
Nagitano sat downed, crossed his legs over one another, and thought intently. Wait, just what kinda of freaky institution did I enter? Military perhaps? Again he shook his head of the thought. Couldn't be. Shit like this would be guarded … right? Wait maybe the island is enough … maybe this is military. Absent-mindedly he reacted to a pair of brown converses floating by his face.
He reached out still in thought and sent the lad crashing onto his face. “H-Hey what the hell! Let go!” The foot struggled in his iron-grasp. “ … Bronze eyes? Wait – how are you grabbing me, my legs are the wind. I'm wind, how are you even seeing me?”
Nagitano didn't answer, he only pulled his fist back and slammed it into the kid's face, knocking him out. He searched the boy's unconscious body—thinking of the madness he just experienced—and slipped his pen and notebook from him. Tucking it underneath his arm, Nagitano finally rationalized it all.
“That's it!” he shouted, slamming his fist into his upward palm. “They're aliens … all of em. Now that shit makes sense.” he said, happy with his discovery.
He started jogging out of the auditorium when he felt a soft tingle coming up from behind him. Ducking out of instinct, an I-man flew overhead and into the stationary seats. The wood splintered and broke. He didn't stick around to see if the I-men would get up, he had a deadline to meet. Running as fast as possible, he followed the few people that seemed to know where they were going; beating down I-men as they approached him.
Eventually, as the crowd dwindled from the I-men. Nagitano found himself surrounded by the gray horde. The eyes zoning in on him both crimson and eerie as they moved jittery. He measured-up his opponents before tucking the pen in his pocket and gripping the notebook tightly in his hand.
“Unfair bastards. Fine than ... bring it!”
The moment he said those words, he watched in shock as the bodies piled onto him. The first crashed into his shoulder and the next tripped him. The next five seconds were pain and darkness. Though, he wasn't unconscious. Inside the flesh mountain, Nagitano still held tight to the notebook. He tried to move but be was pinned by the weight. Frustration started to grip him.
“Get the—fuck off me!” he mumbled, spotting a glimmer of light between the bodies as he did.
He yearned for it, for the air outside. The small bit that poured in was fresh and far more pleasant than the rubbery smell that invaded his nose now. As his desire deepened, a steady flow of air begin to touch his face. It wasn't until his hair started to push against his head had he realized it.
Don't be a tease dammit! Give it to me! he demanded.
The air rushed to him, sliding between the bodies until it covered him like a second-skin. He could feel the pressure tightening on his body, squeezing him till his lung screamed for room. The moment he wished it away. It exploded outwards and sent the bodies into the air. The blast was loud, so loud that his ears rung and the ground shook.
Slowly, he picked himself up. Noting a new sensation in his brain. A new instinct that he hadn't felt before. He extended his hand outwards and felt a cool, early wind mingle with the length of his fingers. Woah! Well maybe I'am an alien! Holy shit! I can control the fucking wind. Now I'm really deserving of the title: God.
Dispatching the I-men came slow. Nagitano wasn't too familiar and trusting of his new abilities so he stuck to his fist as he traveled. Before long, he came to the world-journey vessels and stuck himself nearby. Four elfs and none them held a sign up for which house they represented. He knew he was searching for the Horse elf but that didn't help him decide which one it was.
Crap. he thought, his shoulders heaving from his effort.