marcus (_drac) wrote in missionreports, |
Most damage class super's had a signature to their powers. A pull, a call, a warning; whatever one wanted to call them, Marcus' own had a scent about it. The heating and burning of oxygen around him much like a faint ozone before the fire came. Del, laying fitfully sprawled out on the common's couch had a signature himself. One could feel the warping of atoms and a split second of density of the air before the boy woke with a fright and lobbed his very tiny but very dangerous little black hole at Marcus' feet.
Because of the warning, the older man was able to jump back and not look like he shit his pants. Marcus looked crossly at the boy who had the graces to look sheepish. Del was the perfect example of danger in unexpected packaging. The palm sized black hole, if it hadn't washed out of existence so quickly, could have folded half of Purgatory and the Pen into its self with its strength. Marcus had seen what this boy could do and his powers looked childish and like a pretty light show next to Force's. So, whoops indeed.
Marcus grunted, unconsciously shifting to walk around the spot that black hole had been as if he didn't trust that bit of tile anymore and quietly padded over to Del. Dragon loomed. Seconds and silence.
"I don't envy your roommate," he said suddenly. "Dreaming about fighting in your underwear, darling?" Marcus loved calling men darling, more so if he knew they were straight. He smirked and an eyebrow arched. A moment of whimsy and entertainment.