Mar 20 17:32:18 108 PA - Honest Competition Turns Deadly

From Chronicles

Mar 20 17:32:18 108 PA.

KINGSDALE ARENA

Gabriel seems to enjoy early afternoon times just as much as he enjoys midnight. So it is that he's found a place in the stands of the Kingsdale Arena. There are no major games today, or at least, none at the moment. It's more of a gladiator arena right now. Open for fighting. Settling scores and sparring more violently than at Harry's Gym. The older man is seated in a good position to watch, a clipboard on his lap - a regular paper clipboard. Dressed the same way that he arrived in the city months ago, he's giving Mother Nature the finger with this absurdly long winter. Could be bad for the city, and everyone, if the growing season is too short. For now he waits, munches on something, drinks from a bottle, and waits to see of the two men he'd called are going to show.

Taz arrives as asked, the huge man looking around and trying to find the guy who asked him to show up. Of course he draws a bit of attention, Titan Juicers are a favorite in the arena for brawls and fights after all. It is always exciting to see if a normal juicers speed can counter act the titans strength. Still for the moment Taz is moving amongst the stands, looking, looking, and then he spots Gabriel, which is easier due to the arena being less crowded than at an actual game. With a chuckle, stogie clamped between his teeth and smoke, Taz rumbles, "What's up Gabe?"

Terrance arrives a few minutes later, though not sure exactly why he was called to the Arena, but it was Gabriel calling. so here he is, despite the annoying weather battering his face. He feels it, but at a distance. He emerges from the stands a few rows down from Gabriel, hearing Taz first, drawing his attention. But looking that way he see's Gabe as well, and despite any animosity between himself and the giant, Terrance approaches. "Hey Gabe. You called?"

The old soldier stands solidly and offers the massive man a wave. "Hey, Taz. Those things are going to kill you. Figure if a cigarette is a 'coffin nail' a cigar has to be a railroad spike." Terrance is greeted with a wide smile. "Terrance! Thanks for coming. Both of you. I know I didn't even bother to ask about your schedules. So, anyway." He reaches down and picks up his notepad. "I've told both of you about this thing up in Iowa. All I know now is basically, 'oops, it's worse than we thought,' probably because the asshole client waited too long." Gabriel sighs. "But I digress. I know that both you guys can probably tear apart a Sherman tank with your bare hands, punch your way into a bank safe, and so on. But truth be told, I honestly don't know much about weight limits or numbers when it comes to this shifter throwing across a large chunk of geography. I don't want this to be some kind of pecker contest, but I need to know, if I have to choose between the two of you, who I should beg to bring." He waves a hand toward the floor of the grounds. "Hence, the Arena."

Taz takes a drag on his cigar, blowing a smoke ring in the air, "No need." He rumbles easily, "You take the one 'at doesn't need six hundred pounds a gear when there's a weight limit." He nods towards Terrance, "Problem solved. Right tool for the job." He rolls his massive shoulders in a shrug, "If ya ken convince this Shifter 'at weight shouldn't be an issue, ya take us both. I got no problems workin' wit' 'im, like we talked the other day Gabe." He looks towards Terrance then, "'Less he's still got his panties inna knot about a little splashin' an' wants ta try an' prove 'imself ta me 'r you." He chuckles at that.

Terrance turns his gaze back at the sands that await him and the giant and rolls his eye. He looks back at Gabriel, "So you want us to duke it out in the Arena, see who get's to go on your mission with you should your shifter decide to be a prick?" He says, then turns his gaze on Taz as he comments on all the gear he'd need. And laughs. He seems truly amused by Taz's assumptions of his frailty. "I don't have any issues with you. Just with your big ass landing on people by jumping around like a fool. But you didn't hurt anyone, so we're fine. No harm no foul. I have no need to prove anything to anyone." He says looking squarely at Gabriel again. "You know most of what I can do. He's probably stronger. Meatshield. I'll fight if you want me to, but we don't need to."

Gabriel eyes the two fellows who could kill him in only a moment, sizing them up - possibly personality as well as combat acumen. "Alright. Look, it's not just me. I show up asking to bring people along, people're probably going to want more than just my good word, because most people don't trust any damn person today. Usually because they themselves are totally untrustworthy. Think of me as a football scout. I don't want to see anyone get hurt, but I need hard data to put down before I take it to the coach and the owner before he lays down a few million dollars." He then shrugs and makes a notation on his pad before looking up again. "I took time and paid some guys to set up equipment on this end. Obstacle course, physical and mental challenges. I can grade you on that real well. But combat, unfortunately, is what they call 'the intangibles.' Still, you don't want to bash each other, I understand, and I'm fine with it. Just doesn't give me as much to walk in and try to sell you with." After a shrug and holding his hands slightly to his sides, the older man asks, "Any of that make sense, or am I talking in circles?"

Taz rumbles, "I don't play soft Gabe." He says seriously, "My weakest punch, the weakest I can throw will kill a squishy, destroy a car, or dent armor.. and that's -if- I succeed in holding back. If I don't..." He rolls his massive shoulder in a shrug, "Say he is tough enough to take a full strength shot from me." He jerks a thumb over at Terrance, not derogatorily but just in indication of who he's talking about. "There will be real damage when I hit, and I will. By the same token, if he's strong as he claims ta be or ya say then he's got a real chance o' killin' me, or doin' thousands of creds worth of damage ta my armor. It's a lose - lose situation, -especially- if you want either of us ready for real combat." He rumbles seriously, "So, what it comes down to is this: Ya can mention us, we can go to this meetin', they can decide fer themselves. Maybe we've worked with some o' them already an' they already know what we can do so this is a non-issue. That said." He rolls his massive shoulders in another shrug, "You wanna see us fight, you'd be better off pittin' us against the same sorta critter, see how we deal wit' it. Otherwise, ya run a real risk o' losin' one or both o' us just due ta damage."

Terrance blinks a few times, think about the football thing. "Football? It's called Deadball Gabe. Feet are for running and kicking. But yeah I get you. If it'll help you help them or whatever. I'll run your course. Whatever you need. I'll even take him on if you want me to. I told you I'd help, and I will. I don't back out of promises." He tells Gabriel easily. His gaze shifts to Taz though, "Tell you what. If Gabe needs us to, we'll have a little spar. I'll pay for whatever damage I do to your armor, though I doubt there will be any honestly. I don't work like that. But I do agree with your suggestion of the creatures, if the Arena will provide them.. Otherwise we can just go pick fights in the dregs.."

"Huh. Haven't been here long enough to think of that one. Creatures, good idea." Gabriel nods and makes another note on his pad. "Okay, there's the course. It'll be timed, and the individual stakes ramp up. For instance, for every weight you lift -" he points "- you get seconds deducted, which is a good thing. More damage, more seconds come off, a good thing." He steps between the two enhanced men and waves toward the area he's set up. "Shuttle run, forty-foot wall, sprint, tunnel crawl, et cetera, as you can see. Live rounds, but definitely not enough to kill. Keep your heads up. Grading on a combination of time and points. I hate to be a dick about things, I hate to put the two of you against each other like you're fighting to impress a lady, but I think it needs to be done. Maybe not, maybe so. We can bring out the animals later." After a glance at his military watch - an analog watch - he declares, "I'm ready whenever you are. One at a time on the course, of course. Of course, of course, what a wonderful horse of course," he adds as a humorous... um... what was that?

Taz eyes Gabriel, "I think you're losin' grip on reality Gabe." He rumbles with a chuckle around the base of his stogie, then says, "As for this killin' me? I'll be dead long 'fore I gotta worry 'bout a cigar killin' me." He then looks at Terrance and rolls his massive shoulders in a shrug, "Lets do this then, if you gotta see it." He starts unstrapping his armor, two hundred and fourty pounds of plate armor coming off. It would be two-fifty except he leaves his gloves on to protect his hands from his own strength.

Terrance sighs and shakes his head. Really no point in doing this.. he can look at Taz and tell immediately that the other man is stronger, and in terms of outright physical damage, outstrips Terrance by miles. But.. Terrance doesn't fight head to head. His training makes him a far more canny fighter, which his abilities compliment. But.. If Gabriel wants, Gabriel gets. For now. "Ok.. lets go." He says, popping the seals on his bushmans armor, and climbing out of it, clad in a simple black outfit.

Gabriel holds his pad out before him, resting the bottom against his waist. "Each obstacle can be crossed in a number of ways. You chose, you make it up through your own head, as long as it's still properly completed. Other than that?" He looks between the two superior men and brings out a coin - a genuine US quarter. "Want me to flip to see who goes first?"

"I'll go first, wanna get this over with." Taz rumbles, not discarding his cigar even as he leaps down from the stands and lands in the Arena with a heavy -THOOM- as near half a ton of juicer hits the floor. He looks around, waiting to see just what obstacles, exactly, are waiting for him and in what order they are in.

Terrance chuckles and looks over the edge as Taz leaps over. "About as subtle as a CS armored battalion. But he'll get the job done. Assuming the job isn't to carry delicate equipment. You'll end up with a pile of barely recognizable scrap afterwards."

Taz looks at this obstacle course and shakes his head a bit, rumbling a chuckle and then when it's time, he gets going! He doesn't hold back of course, while he may not be the fastest person in the world he has endurance in spades, and is agile as all hell especially for how big he is. The shuttle run is taken at a full sprint, which for Taz unarmored is close to fifteen miles an hour. He's nimble enough on his feet that stopping isn't that big an issue either though his feet do slide across the floor of the arena each time he has to and he ends up planting one hand on the ground for traction in order to change to the opposite direction, other hand moving to grab each shuttle and deposit it on the other side. Even though he's running flat out each time he isn't that fast, but still better than the average joe. It's the fact he hasn't even broken a sweat that's the big thing. After the shuttle run Taz bolts off towards the 1 mile sprint and runs a steady five minute mile without pausing for breath or slowing at all, just moving at his lumbering sprint the whole way through. The hurdles are next however, and those might be a bit trickier, maybe... but Taz is a trained gymnast tho he doesn't look it.

Gabriel is standing, timing, and just waves Taz on. "Keep going!"

The hurdles are taken fairly easily, not slowing the lumbering behemoth down much but the tunnel crawl, well... as expected there's going to need to be a lot of repairs done to that tunnel crawl. Taz is just to big. He absolutely ignores all the cuts and scrapes he gets when he plows through the tunnel of barbed-wire however, until he reaches the other end of the tunnel and gets back to his feet, cigar clenched tightly between his teeth as he's already starting to stop bleeding, his implants and the drugs kicking his healing into overdrive already. He sprints (well as much as he can) towards the water obstacle and -leaps- at the rope, flying at it he clears a good ten feet before he grabs the rope which is presumably not sabotaged to not be able to take his weight and swings across the water, momentum and mass is a good thing. Landing on the other side of the water he runs towards the fourty foot wall and still at a run leaps again, jumping twenty feet into the air he grabs the rope and using his legs and muscular arms powers over the wall in two more hops which takes all of seven seconds before he's landing on the other side. As for the wall of fire, fun, he's gonna get burned but he charges at it and rushes headlong into it to stand on the other side toasty and crispy and covered with shallow cuts from the barbed wire. Not even breathing hard as he puffs on his stogie to keep it lit.

The older man remains standing, but is now taking copious notes of some kind on his pad. After checking his watch, he announces, "Good run, Taz. Go walk around, make sure your don't get a cramp." Looking over to Terrance, "Ready when you are, my friend."

Taz laughs, "I don't cramp." He says simply, waiting at the end of it and puffing on his cigar. Just like he didn't warm up. The drugs in his harness either on, or tranquilizing him so he can sleep.

Terrance just shakes his head, watching the big man run the obstacle course. "He's slow.. Big and probably better armored than most armored assault craft.. but slow. And bulky." He says aloud, and steps up the the edge, the railing that prevents most people from falling down into the sand below. He vaults it, and drops easily into the sand below, landing catlike, with hardly a dusting from the sand. He rises and jogs over to the shuttle run area. He grins, and leans over as if he's going to fall, and his form all but blurs to the naked eye. He's sprinting the shuttle runs, appearing to almost leap the intervening distance. He has a bit of difficulty stopping because of the sheer speeds involved, his feet gripping hard, but he manages. Once the shuttle run is finished, Terrance blurs again, reaching speeds of 80 and 90 miles an hour, burning through the mile in 40 seconds flat. Damn he's fast. The hurdles come up next, and though he slows to around ten miles an hour, he leaps up, catching the top bar and swinging himself past the second with sheer momentum. Landing easily, Terrance blurs again, his form easily seen doing that funny looking jog as people slow themselves quickly from a fast run. He dives to the ground, and slips under the barb wires, almost burrowing into the mud. A small yelp sounds out from his as he catches one in the shoulder, but he perseveres, crawling under the wires.

"Wow. Interesting, Terrance." Gabriel makes notes on his pad after the run, then flips back and forth between pages... then tears out a whole bunch, wads them up and just tosses them randomly into the air. "Comparing apples and oranges, apparently." He lets out a breath of air. "I guess that all I can say and promise is that I'll try to sell you both." Then a wry grin. "Unless you really think I should bother letting some animals loose for you to kill?"

Terrance stops for a second once he rises from the barb wire crawl and eyes the water jump. He grins suddenly and leans forward, burning up the distance between him and the edge, then he leaps, a good 20 feet into the air. With his considerable speed behind him, and with the altitude gained, he clears the pit, rope untouched. He lands and rolls with the impact on the other side, laughing. Rising again, he blurs again and leaps up the wall, clearing 20 feet in the first bound. He grips the rope and uses the wall to leap off again, speeding his climb immensely. He reaches the top in 20 seconds. Dropping off the other side, and landing easily, he takes off and does a superman leap through the flames, tucking into a roll on the other side, coming up and patting out the flames on his outfit. He grins easily at the show, wondering how Gabriel will rate him.

Taz brings his hands together in a golf-clap, "You realize Gabe, none o' this really means dick all in a real fight." If he's impressed, he doesn't show it, he's not built for speed and so isn't put out by being slower. It's not like he's a hyperion juicer or the like. He takes a puff of his cigar, "Like I said, what matters is iff'n ya ken talk that shifter inta weight. It's all pointless if 'e won't budge cuz without my armor, I'm not goin."

"Hey hey hey, even Cassius Clay got called for showboating, Terrance. Nice job, both of you. I have no idea how to judge that, frankly," Gabriel admits. Now that Terrance is back, he repeats, "Guess I'll have to try to sell you both." His gaze turns to Taz. "I know, it's not combat. We Raiders trained brutally - to both ourselves and others - but that was for a long-term profession. Not going to sit and throw the two of you into a fight. Not one that I'm going to sit and judge, at least. You want to fight each other, fine, pound on each other to prove combat skill. But otherwise? A ruler is a lot easier." He ends with a grin.

Taz walks over and grabs a five hundred pound weight from the weight set, lifting it easily with one hand and then he frisbee's it through the fire to slam into the concrete wall, sticking into the concrete and causing a bunch of cracks. "Yer thinkin' like there is some sort o' even playin' field. Their aint." Taz rumbles, "Combat is a fluid thing, it changes quick. Dunno what yer used to but we aren't line soldiers, we're special operatives." He shrugs, "You don't compare a disguise expert ta the computer hacker. They do two diff'ren' tings." He puffs on his cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air over his teen foot tall head. "You has ta decide what ya want. Ya want the wreckling ball, or ya want the speed freak, if ya has ta pick one of us that's yer choice." He rumbles and shakes his head before he walks over towards the edge of the arena and then jumps up, grabbing onto the railing and hoisting himself over easily to return to his armor and gear. "I ain't performin' no more 'tryouts' fer your amusement Gabe. Ya wanna know how good I am, talk ta Johnson, Bartholomew, that V chick with the lizard an' hooves, 'r that dwarf Rasputin."

Terrance shrugs at Gabriel as he rejoins them. "He's huge and strong, I'm small and fast. He's designed and built for hands on combat. I'm designed.. literally.. for covert ops. I can do straight up combat, but I use weapons for the big nasties. He can use his hands. He's right Gabe, We're two different tools for two different jobs." He says watching Taz toss the weight like it's nothing. But he has to grin. He reaches down and picks up another 500lb weight. He matches the ease of hefting it, though his hurling it is considerably more strained. This one flies into and lands on the hoop of fire, crushing it into the ground below it.

Gabriel smirks and lifts an eyebrow. "You can turn me to a splash of blood on the wall with one punch, but I didn't make it to this age by walking in straight lines, being fair and dull about objectives. So tell me, Taz, you're a special operative. Just how much combat experience *do* you have? Where? What'd you do? How long have you spent learning, training, observing, practicing, spilling blood, sweat and tears to get yourself into the line of special operatives? Or is it more of a gut instinct?" His tone is flatter that Keira Knightly.

"I been on the front lines since I was a child Gabe. I didn' grow up in the nice part o' the Dregs, I was a scrawny little fuck who couldn't protect himself and his girl got turned into a whore by someone bigger 'n badder 'n him." Taz rumbles in a dead voice as he puts his armor on, "I fought every day of my fuckin' life, no down time, none at all. I learned ta survive when mos' woulda died." He straps heavy plates into place as he speaks, the wounds from the fire and the barbed wire already stopped bleeding and starting to close up as his super charged body starts to heal already. "I got nothin' more ta say ta you Gabe. I don't give a fuck how old you are, ta me, all that means is you're good at lettin' others do yer fightin' for yah. You even speak to me in such fashion again, question my life, 'r my skills, an' ya won't even have time to shit yer pants before it's all over." Taz looks over at Gabe, "Now, like I said." He puffs on his cigar, "Their ain't no fuckin' ruler. This little 'test' is all shit, ya wan' my fuckin' references, check the mortality rate in the far north east of the Dregs. The fact that I'm fuckin' -here-, an' not owin' nobody -shit- speaks far louder'n any o' yer fuckin' tests or references."

Terrance rolls his eyes. "I've seen the dregs at their worst Taz. Gangwars and poverty. Hate to say it.. but while that sucks, it's not war. I've seen war, up close and personal. I've been in the trenches watching friends getting blown apart around me. I've been blown apart. You had a rough childhood. Waah. Get over it." He retorts before Gabe has a chance to. "You know how to brawl. You're strong as hell. All from an expensive as hell chemical augmentation. Which means unless you detox in a couple years, you're a dead man. You want to make cracks about my panties in a twist. How bout you unbunch yours ya ten foot tall crybaby."

The old soldier had clearly been about to say something, possibly important, but instead takes the time to hurry up the concrete that they call bleachers. Actions speak louder than words, and sometimes even actionable words aren't necessary. Gabriel just gets the fuck out of there.

Taz doesn't even hesitate, he simply jumps back down into the arena and lands with to much grace for his size, stalking towards Terrance, no more words, nothing said. He just walks over towards the man, assuming that Terrance doesn't pull a Gabriel and run away as well. There's no threats, no insults, just that seemingly implacable advance.

Gabriel remains in the stands. In fact, he takes a few steps up higher. One rule of life - you never get involved in a bar fight that isn't your own.

Other than the sound of his footsteps on the arena floor Taz doesn't answer or make a sound, at least not verbally. He doesn't go about taking off his armor, he doesn't stop and as he approaches Terrance to be nearly face to face (if one can call such a thing possible given size differences) he reaches back and draws that big ass sword off his back, thumbing the trigger briefly the electric motor to life that sends the sharp jagged edges whirling at high RPM's briefly. Fair, is apparently, not in the vocabulary as Taz is definitely going to start swinging.

Terrance frowns as that sword comes out and the engine starts to rev. "Ok fine.. If that's the way you want it.. Let's roll.." He says, taking a step back, then leaping high, up and over even Taz's frame. As he comes down the other side, he reaches out to grab at Taz's head. If he manages it, Taz is going to get a nasty surprise.

Taz instinctively ducks as Terrance springs up like some sort of crazy jack in the box, the man's actions apparently throwing Taz off for a second but not enough to stay his wrath. Twisting he turns and plants one foot behind him as he does so, his weight shifting as he brings that big chainsword around in a nearly blinding arc. If he weren't wearing armor then the display of muscles might be quite impressive, but as it is... what's impressive is the speed the big man can bring to bear when he wants to, waiting to trigger the sword until the moment just before impact if Terrance doesn't get away.

Terrance apparently didn't count on the big man being as fast as he is. As he lands, he hears, more than see's the sword come around, and he tries to bend backward to avoid the blade. He isn't quite fast enough though, and takes the blade in the side, and it chews through flesh and strikes off something incredibly hard inside him. As the sword strikes him, it throws him to the dirt, blood flying. Taz opened him up from the edge of his ribs to the center of his chest, and blood is pooling under him. Though it's not nearly as much as it should be. "Prick.. " He murmurs, pulling his flesh back together. Good thing he's not wearing his armor.

As Terrance hits the ground and is still in one piece Taz frowns, looking at his sword as it didn't dig anywhere nearly as deep as he expected even with the blades whirling death like they are. His fingers goes off the trigger on the sword, at least for now, "You're not human. That explains a lot." And he stalks over towards Terrance with that sword still in his hands but he doesn't swing it, "You -ever- talk shit to me again, and I won't stop Terrance. You understand me?" He rumbles deathly cold, no emotion in his voice at all as he lifts a foot and tries to stomp it down on Terrance, not to crush him, but to try and pin him down to the ground if it lands. Apparently, he expects Terrance to be able to take the pressure of his foot without to much difficulty, being all weird and such.

Terrance glares daggers at Taz, pulling his mutilated flesh and clothes into some semblance of being together. "You're fucking nutjob, that's what you are. And for your information I'm more human than you ever will be. I don't go around pulling weapons on UNARMED, UNARMORED FUCKING PEOPLE because of a little teasing." He tells the bigger man, trying and failing to stand, mostly because he's trying to keep his systems together. "Go find a fucking tank to chop up, or maybe a dinosaur or something you fucking loon. Go. Get!" He says watching the foot miss him.

"The greatest evil's ever committed against humans, were done by humans." Taz rumbles simply and to the point. "You've had your warning. Up to you to heed it. I suggest you shut off your vocal circuits or whatever the fuck it is you have in your neck before I finish the job." He rumbles simply and then he triggers the motor on his sword so that bits of faux-flesh and blood can go skittering off into the sand before he slings the sword back onto the hooks on the back of his armor. "You think I need a -sword- to break you into pieces?" He asks simply, cocking his head to the side as he looks down at the smaller man(?). "I heal, I'm all flesh and blood. What the fuck are you that makes you more human than me." He smirks at that still looming over Terrance as he tries to stand and fails but at least no more stomps are coming.

Terrance has to balls to openly laugh at Taz, mocking him. He smiles up at his tormentor. "You'll heal because you have a small fortunes worth of chemical's pumping through your body. My humanity stems from my actions. You're strength, durability and entire fucking body, are owed to whoever juiced you. My body is owed who whoever gave it to me, to save my life. Difference is, I'm not a fucking bully, throwing my weight around because I can, I use my body to help people, now I can't.. I have to go spend every credit I have just to fix what you fucking destroyed. So piss off asshole." He says, and turns away, picking himself up, his skin slumping and revealing he has no internal organs under his steel ribs. He growls and picks his flesh back up to hide that fact as he tries to leave.

Taz rumbles, "Yes. I picked a fight with you." Taz seems amused by that, "You're the one who got in my face on the street. You're the one who pushed here, now that you realize you aren't half the 'man' you think you are, it's all bitterness and tears. Cry me a fucking river ya bleeding heart pussy." He then turns and starts to make his way out as well.

It's at this point that Gabriel finally appears to think that he might be able to intervene a little without getting himself crushed. He's no Juicer, but he's nimble enough getting down toward Terrance, being quite sure to avoid the giant Taz who seems to be departing at this point. "Terrance! You look like shit, I'll call the paramedics, we'll get you to.. um... the KEC?" The older man seems to be honestly slowed for a moment, considering the problem.

Terrance shakes his head. "I'll get there myself.. best thing you can do is get me something to wear, like a trench coat.. The fewer people that know what I am the better." He tells Gabriel, walking slowly toward the exit.

"Sorry, Terrance, best I can do is cuddle." Gabriel continues to talk as they move out of the Arena, knowing that in his time at least, talking to people helped to keep them from going into shock. "That is why he fails to be included with me. Personality test. I wasn't just being a stupid motherfucker goading a Juicer like that. Part of the test. I don't care what his personal rules are, I don't care how tough he is. If he's so caught up in his own past that he needs to be a badass in the present because I asked him some very fair, very honest questions, well... he isn't even a good weapon to let loose. Just a crazy thing that could circle around and smack you just as hard as the intended target. Like you said, everyone has something in their childhood that sucks, it doesn't make you a soldier. You doing okay?"

Terrance has been shot, stabbed, cut, knocked silly and quite literally, blown up. A little cosmetic damage isn't gonna hurt him that much.. Except it's not all cosmetic, he can feel his systems shut down to conserve power. Bastard nicked something. "If he can't keep his cool under me teasing him, then he doesn't need to be going along for any kind of op. Covert or not. He'll get everyone killed." He tells Gabriel, losing his grip on his flesh, and the mans chest slumps, revealing the empty space where stomach and kidneys and and such should be. But there's nothing there. You can see his shiny steel spine as he walks.

That's a really bad thing to see, though Gabriel takes it well. His pocket communicator is immediately whipped out, and the Kingsdale emergency band tripped. "I have a serious injury at the Arena, we need transport immediately." The communicator remains on, listening for a reply. He takes his light jacket off and offers it to Terrance. "Here, cover yourself up. It's my only one, though, try not to bleed on it too much."

Terrance turns to glare at you. "Gabriel.. I can walk just fine.. it's like having a suit a couple sizes too big. Just doesn't want to stay on.." He says, pulling at the flesh. You can probably hear it tearing, a horrible quelching sound. Then he drops the flesh, and steps out of it, like a pair of baggy pants. He sits down and starts pulling at his clothes, boots and his own flesh, skinning himself. If he feels anything, it doesn't show on his face. As the skin get pulled down, he reveals more and more of his steel skeleton, sleek and streamlined. His legs in particular are impressive. The mechanical version of superman's legs.

Gabriel takes it well. Then closes the communicator. "That's disgusting. No offense intended. But you might make a really good screenplay. I dunno. Like... if you were you, but you were crazy like Taz, you could call it 'Terminator' or something." He shrugs. Hey, Arnold's most signature role came decades after he did. "What can I do, Terrance? Pick up the metal parts?" It's an honest, serious question.

Terrance pulls the last of the bioflesh off his feet and kicks it away, gleaming metal toes flexing and wriggling. It's really quite disturbing if you're not ready for it. "Take the flesh.. they might be able to reuse it." He says shrugging into your oversize coat, though as he does, his arms rise up and you can see his lungs, sleek and steel with small canisters attached to them. Likely his O2 storage. "Stupid bastard... why the hell did he have to pull his sword.." He asks aloud, before peeling up the edges of the flesh he is still wearing, visually inspecting the damage. "Spine suffered heavy damage , as that's what stopped his blade. ribs were nicked, as were the lungs bottom edge." His fingers are touching and probing at himself, peeling his skin back where he needs to. You can see the damage.. but you can also see inside of Terrance, all the systems that keep him alive.

"Some impressive gear you got in there, Terrance. But, ah... I'm just going to leave the meat where it is for now. C'mon." Gabriel cringes a little. Not so much at seeing the machinery as it is about concern for his only warm-weather jacket. His friend is clearly going to be fine after a few days at the mechanic's and the butcher, or wherever you get that kind of thing applied. "He's certainly a... man -" questioning tone "- to be avoided. At least he didn't hit your head, right? For his sake, I hope that dumb bastard doesn't make this a habit. People like myself and others know how to take care of problems like that, even like him." There's a subtle nod as if saying, "Oh yeah, it's been done."

Terrance eyes, and reaches out to pick up his lower half. "Fine I will if you won't." He tells you, purposely slinging it across a shoulder, getting blood and various other liquids all down the back. "I've got some heavy duty explosives if you need them.. but I think I've gonna be down for your mission. Unless I can get someone to loan me around ten grand.. assuming I can sell my armor." He says, starting to think of his repair bill.

Ah, nice. Perhaps Kingsdale has a good Laundromat somewhere on Steel Street. Gabriel frowns a little, then quickly reaches into his small memento pocket and retrieves his ribbon and photograph. "Not going to let you ruin these. But I'm not going to hunt the guy down right now, either. Only if he starts making a habit of it. As for the money? I have it, but just barely. If I end up getting tagged a few times, or expending a bunch of ammunition, I'm not even going to be able to refit." As the flesh continues to drip down his previously pristine coat, he just hurries on. "Let's get you somewhere fast, before you destroy my clothes anymore." There's both truth and laugh as the two move along.