ic Past & Future Tense

[Fox]

Greenbank Railyards

Mid-March, 2022

 

Natalia had mixed opinions on Greenbank. She did actually like urban decay as a design, all the crumbling signs of what was, the traces left behind of the people that had been through before you, the little signs of life and business still ghosting through to show that the place wasn't completely abandoned - but the best version of that was always clean, in her mind. Not sanitized, but less raw garbage piled up.

 

In her ideal world, it would have smelled better. More rust and crumbling brick, less ammonia.

 

"He's promised me that he's not here on work," she was saying as they walked down a sidewalk that was slowly losing a fight against grass and weeds. She'd worn boots for this trip - something broken glass or rusty metal wouldn't get through, that complimented skinny jeans and a loose black top with golden stitching. "That probably means it is work, just not the kind that causes any real trouble. He wouldn't lie if he thought I would find out and catch him on it."

[Gizmo]

"Managing to keep things from you seems pretty optimistic," Ryder observed, putting one scuffed up, rainbow laced sneaker directly in front of the other to walk solely on what was left of the raised edge of the curb as though it were a tightrope. He'd worn the jeans that only had a few small motor oil stains and remained paint splatter free, along with a long sleeved henley with a relatively tame colour block pattern that included a pink close enough to his strawberry blond dyed hair to make the latter look a bit more cohesive. Maybe. At least like an effort had been made, hopefully, which was really more the point.

 

He hadn't mentioned any particular worries about how he ought to dress out loud but Natalia had noticed he'd brought along his messenger bag, the one big enough to conceal all of the Robugs at once. She knew Ryder well enough to recognize that as just the same sort of nervous decision paralysis. "Is there stuff I should, like, not mention around him? Lie of omission style?" He dropped one hand to rest meaningfully on the oversized belt buckle hidden behind the bottom of his shirt. He tended toward forthrightness in just about all things but this was Nat's family which he figured meant playing by her rules.

[Fox]

Natalia looked up for a moment, pondering the question. "...I think that's up to you," she decided, looking over at him - and the implicit buckle. "He'd keep your secret, if it matters, and I don't think he'd ever use it against you. He'd probably approve. He likes to think he's an 'older, better class of criminal'." The way she said it implied she'd had to hear the man talk about it at length. "But if he finds out you fight hand-to-hand he might want to actually punch you, and I can't recommend letting him do that. Someone's going to end up hurt."

 

They'd apparently reached their destination - Natalia took a long look at the tetanic metal gate and elected to open it with gravity, dragging the thing back along the gravel to reveal an old and clearly abandoned rail maintenance building. "Don't ask him why he's in America, he's not likely to tell you the truth and he'd be annoyed that you're in prying into his...work. Don't mention my mom. He's going to call me pet names and you're not allowed to use them, because someone at school would overhear you and I can only get away with so many murders, Cricket."

[Gizmo]

"You're doing the thing where you establish a rule then immediately show it doesn't apply to you." It didn't sound remotely like a criticism but Ryder did give her a small frown and he peered into the darkness of the abandoned building, shielding his eyes from the sun overhead with one hand. "Is this a psyching yourself up thing? If you want to bail, we can tell him it's my fault and go find some rubble for you to smash and crush until you feel better." He snapped his fingers then brought both raised forefingers in front of his chest as a different interpretation occurred to him. "Oh! Or were you saying that I would be allowed to use pet names if it weren't for other people? Aw! That's sweet." He straightened up a bit and grinned, buoyed by the thought.

[Fox]

"Different names for different contexts, Cricket," sniffed Natalia, leading him through the building toward - according to the signs - one of the larger machining rooms. "I'm not stalling, you asked a question and I answered it. I'm giving you a chance to save lives - you should be grateful."

 

There was light coming from beneath the heavy doorway, and noise, but nothing so loud as a generator - the building may have still been on the city's power grid. This barrier, at least, seemed slightly less likely to give Natalia a blood disease, and she opted to open it by hand. "Ryder, meet Viktor Koshchei. дедушка, this is Ryder."

 

 

Viktor Koshchei was a veritable mountain of a man; he had to be close to seven feet tall and at least half as wide at the shoulder, and even sitting his heavily-muscled, broadly-built frame dwarfed a chair that had probably been designed for an entirely average person. It was a body built for performance and not for show, thicker in the middle and hairier than any body builder would allow, clad in a simple striped tank top and suspender-supported slacks that probably dated to the Cold War, for all that they remained largely intact. There were small metal implants here and there along the skin of his arms, goggles hanging around his neck, and a shock of white hair on his head that fell to not quite obscure a square-jawed face that hadn't lost its sharpness with its advancing age.

 

He sat with his arms on his knees, great thick-fingered hands clasped together in front of him as he silently sized Ryder up.

[Gizmo]

"Sir," Ryder greeted with a hand raised an unhurried suggestion of a wave, giving an easygoing and friendly smile to the serious faced man. "Glad to meet you and I appreciate you taking the time. I know it can be crazy tough finding a chunk of unclaimed workshop space in this city, right? Matches up with that industrial, utilitarian aesthetic too, so that's a plus." He laced his fingers behind his head and took a few steps further into the room, looking around curiously to see what infrastructure had already been there and what it looked like Koshchei had set up since his arrival. "I had a chance to check out one of your older designs, actually and I was hoping to pick your brain a bit about it but you probably want to do sort of an interrogation slash cold read thing on me first?" He tilted his head to one side and gave Natalia's grandfather a broader, dimpled grin. "Ask away!"

[Fox]

Viktor was quiet for a moment, and then his brow furrowed. "You are the boy?" he asked, in a heavy Russian accent.

 

"The boy?" was Natalia's immediate response, her voice as arched as her eyebrow.

 

"Are there others? You speak of him."

 

"I don't - grandfather. Do not make me sound like some kind of lovesick -"

 

"You speak of almost no one. You do mention this one." Viktor unlaced his fingers, shrugging without sitting up. "So he is the boy." Whatever Natalia shot back with, it was in Russian; with Viktor responding in kind it was a moment before anything was intelligible.

 

The room was not in great shape, to match the rest of the building, but someone had clearly put some effort into getting things in order - the dirt on the floor showed signs of furniture being moved around, and most of the debris had been piled up in the corner along with what looked like the shattered remains of a table, some damage far older than the rest. No super-science to be had here, aside from a pair of large, complicated metal gauntlets on the table behind Viktor; a set of chemistry equipment against the back wall was merrily bubbling away at some chemical concoction or another, burners fed by a portable propane tank; metal working equipment next to the door had clearly seen recent use, surfaces shining and clean where they'd had to turn or scrape. Bits of dark steel plates sat here or there, but in their unassembled state it was hard to say what their purpose would eventually be.

 

Natalia had resorted to what was clearly some kind of crude Russian invective, which apparently meant her grandfather had won the debate. He was laughing, a deep gravelly thing, as he stood to flash a grin at Ryder. "So! You are the boy -" - Natalia mostly managed to stop a glare - "- and I am Viktor. You are too small, I think, but brave, and you have survived little Natasha so far, and that is good enough for me, for now."

 

He stretched, back and shoulders popping as he looked around the room. "It is a terrible workshop. I have had better. But it keeps me busy while I am here, and it is good to not draw attention sometimes, hm?"

[Gizmo]

Ryder bit the corner of his mouth to stop himself from laughing at Natalia's grumbling but allowed himself to give her a look with raised eyebrows when her grandfather revealed that she had talked about him. "I have a big personality," he suggested to Koshchei, "and I'm more of a, y'know, 'provides the distraction' type than a 'not draw attention' type." The teen gestured to the room as a whole. "At least there's nothing in here you'd be all that upset about catching on fire or exploding or turning itself inside out, right? Learned the hard way to prioritize that in a workspace, ha!" He was curious about the gauntlets but it seemed gauche to be too obvious about it. "Any advice on being good enough on a longer timeline?"

[Fox]

Viktor scratched his chin, calloused fingers scraping along stubble as he surveyed the room. "It does lack the better sciences," he admitted. "Nothing here so dangerous as my gauntlets, except maybe little Natasha, hm? But that is as it should be, ho!"

 

'Little Natasha' rolled her eyes, dragging a metal stool away from the lathe so she could sit beside the door.

 

"My advice to you," the man continued unabated, "is to fight." There was a spark in his eyes at that, and something else too - a sort of uneven shimmer when he turned his head, a gold against his natural blue that was impossible to see until it caught the light. "Fight for love, or for your justice, or for wealth, or - or best of all, most of all - fight for the thrill of fighting. But never stop, and you will always be worth something." He'd been awfully imposing there for a moment, the image of a man who'd gone blow for blow on the covers of newspapers, but it went away and he was an old man again...if a very very large one. "Ah, well. Great men truly die when they give up on their passions. Their bodies sometimes keep moving around for years after," he added, waving a hand in a suspiciously familiar dismissing motion, "but the man is dead. Nothing sadder."

[Gizmo]

Ryder was silent for a beat, not in hesitation but in respectful consideration of Koshchei's words. "Intense!" he decided finally, nodding amicably. "Normally it's like pulling teeth to get folks to articulate their personal philosophies and mantras, y'know? You ask somebody what their dream is, like capital 'D' dream and they go, 'whatever man, I just want to sell super science laser guns to kids,' and I'm all that cannot possibly be the sum total of your life's ambitions, that's so sad. If you're going for power or respect or something mind numbingly basic like that fine, at least then we can start working out a way to get you there without being a massive tool but I'm going to need a drop of introspection and self-examination, right?" He thew his hands up with the air of someone who had voiced this exact frustration more than once before. "I was thinking more like, 'buy her flowers sometimes for no particular occasion,' or 'she hates banjo, never learn to play the banjo,' but heck yeah, 'commit to your passions,' I can get behind that."

 

He looked down to his bag as something jostled within. "Oh! Uh, do you mind if my guys look around while we talk? Getting a little antsy which is funny when you realize none of them are ants." He gestured to the front flap of the saddlebag as though that provided context for his question.

[Fox]

"Your guys?" Viktor turned his head to rattle some Russian off to Natalia, who waved dismissively from her seat, responding in kind. Viktor did not seem elucidated. "You have - what? What is this. Now I must see, yes, release them."

 

"Perhaps these people do not share their philosophies because their philosophies are weak," he mused, leaning back against the central metal table (which made a terrible sound as it scraped back against the floor an inch). He crossed his arms, bushy brow furrowed low over his eyes. "They fear that you, too, will know they are weak and small. It is a weak man's problem. If you wish to play the banjo, play the banjo."

 

"Do not play the banjo," countered Natalia.

 

"Baaah," dismissed her grandfather, raising a couple fingers off his arm in lieu of the full hand wave. "Flowers were always good for me, but that was a long time ago. I cannot say now. Clearly you must have done something right -"

 

"Grandfather." It was a warning.

 

"- so perhaps you keep doing that. If someone competes for her affections, perhaps punch him."

 

Natalia was sitting back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, narrowing her eyes at her grandfather like she expected to develop laser vision.

[Gizmo]

"Ha! That sounds like a good way for the winner to get their butt kicked by Nat for being a possessive creep. But y'know, I like flowers. I like colours, I like pollinators." Ryder lifted the flap of his bag and multiple bright objects burst forth. The bounding robotic bush cricket, roughly palm-sized, launched the furthest, landing on the desk near Koshchei. Cyan bounced up and down on his light blue and silver back legs and chirped in cheerful greeting before hopping away to explore the space.

 

A praying mantis cast is saturated pink and glossy white landed read Ryder's feet then scuttled forward toward their host, completely unafraid. Magenta raised her curved forelimbs toward Natalia's grandfather and held them parallel, slowly sliding them further apart. It took a moment to realize that she was trying to gauge the size of his prodigious biceps, triangular head tilting to one side in disbelief.

 

With a muted hum of vibrating wings a little wasp shaped robot followed, hovering uncertainly in the air around her creator's head. Yellow rubbed her front legs together in an approximation of wringing hands while zigzagging about, stopping every few moments and choosing a new direction, trying to decide whether to stay where she was or risk finding somewhere new but out of the way.

 

Well after his siblings had exited a black and gunmetal grey beetle trundled out of the bag, across Ryder's arm and down his torso and leg, in no rush to drop down to the floor. Black nodded the long protruding horn on the front his head toward Koshchei in a polite bow then sauntered over to where Natalia was seated, waiting patiently at her feet to be picked up, quietly unimpressed by their surroundings.

 

"Sir, meet the Robugs! That's Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and Black. Don't worry, they're used to being around, well, volatile equipment but if there's somewhere you want them to stay away from just say!" Ryder closed the bag again and raised his arm like a falconer for Yellow to set down atop.

[Fox]

Natalia made a beckoning gesture with one finger, a very gentle gravity lifting Black up into her lap. "I did mention that he liked insects," she said primly, running fingernails down Black's shell.

 

"You did," said Viktor; his great bushy eyebrows had gone up into his hair as he watched the little machines mill about, looking at each of them in turn. "You did not, I think, share important details of it." He flexed his bicep at the mantis, muscle swelling significantly. "These are made by him?"

 

"They are."

 

Natalia's grandfather made a mild appreciative noise, looking around at them again. "And they are..." He faltered, shooting a word in Russian at his granddaughter. She just raised an eyebrow. "....toys? Just toys."

 

"They are not."

 

He made the noise again, less subtly, kneeling to inspect the mantis. "These are good. You are proud of these." It was not a question. "Do not let them break the chemistry glass, it is caustic. You said you found one of my older designs - these are not them, but they are impressive. You had questions, I think?"

[Gizmo]

"They make me proud," Ryder agreed, scratching the top of Yellow's head with his index finger. "And yeah, one of your older gauntlets! The army had it and they weren't being what I'd call 'responsible' with it so..." The teenager made a vague gesture with his hand, inviting Koshchei to fill in the blanks. "They, y'now, ceased to have it." He felt a little self-conscious relating that story to the device's actual inventor but moved on. "The capsules were pretty much out of particles anyway but there was enough to check out and, like, it's one thing with current over-the-counter tech and a decent geopolymer binder, obviously, but I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out how you would have synthesized them in the first place without knowing the specific wavelength ahead of time or going through just, I mean, a ridiculous amount of tungsten running trial-and-error tests.

[Fox]

Viktor made a grumbling sound, scratching his chin, great brow furrowed in thought. "One of my old...I was very careless, long ago, but I have been more careful since. It must have been very old. Natasha, did you...ah, which -"

 

"три", said Natalia, holding up three fingers - presumably for Ryder's benefit.

 

"Aaaaahh," said her grandfather. "I did wonder what became of those. I am surprised anything remained in them. The old glass, I think; that batch of glass was very good. Something in the mix." He had, apparently, stopped paying attention, gaze wandering off toward a wall as his voice trailed off. Old memories and older designs were almost visible in his eyes.

 

Natalia coughed. "Tests?"

 

"Oh! Oh, yes. I was part of a research team then, we had a lab in Siberia. Miserable, but the mines there - Urzarsaiskoye, Lednikovy-Sarmaka. If I wanted tungsten, I could practically pluck it from the ground, hm?" He shrugged, shoulders rolling. "It is always easier to replicate than create, but I am impressed you did so from such an old sample. A small sample, even! There are government labs that have tried for years to do what we can do with a chemistry set, or Natasha can do with her bones."

 

He paused on that, chuckling, before his face fell serious again. "Do not join the government labs. They are where minds great and small go to die."

[Gizmo]

Ryder started to reply but was interrupted by a muffled explosion of crumbling cement and creaking steel from back toward the front of the warehouse. “Mag, go camo and try to get a look,” the young inventor instructed, jogging across the room to put himself between the disturbance and Natalia and her grandfather without really thinking about it. “Yellow, see if you can get outside to—“

 

“Don’t bother, Professor Fujioka. I’m not planning to draw this out,” a clear alto voice called from the makeshift workshop’s entrance. The intruder was young, maybe only a year or two older than Ryder or Natalia, with dark skin in stark contrast with shock white hair starting to grow out of a buzz cut and a distinctive X-shaped scar on their jawline. Their clothes were a mishmash of layered pieces in blacks and greys punctuated by pops of neon green and pink, covered in patches, pins and tears.

 

What drew Ryder’s attention, however, was the familiar chunky belt. “Aw jeez. Still super not a professor, yeah? Was kinda hoping you’d gone back to the future after the music festival.” His left hand hovered near his own belt buckle while the right was raised in an appeal for calm. Behind him the Robugs shifted nervously in place.

 

“One-way trip,” Canister clarified, idly shaking the small red aerosol can in their hand with a metallic clacking. “Besides, you probably noticed the part where you’re not dead yet.”

[Fox]

"No fighting in the lab," said Viktor - said Graviton - in the kind of calm but authoritative tone that could cut through a crowded room. He hadn't moved much. "You wish to fight, I will not stop you. But you do it out there, and not in here."

 

Natalia had moved, sliding out of her chair when Canister appeared in the doorway - not giving ground, very careful to not give ground, but not standing in arm's reach, either. Mostly she was mad she hadn't heard them coming. Weakness. "That means 'back up', Vandalist," she said; little motes of black and gold were pooling around her feet, but it was more threat than action. "You can still cover the only door to the room without looming in it. Or we can push you out - I'd say it's your choice, but you clearly don't make good ones."

[Gizmo]

"Honestly Dr. Koshchei, bit of a fan but you've pretty much made all your meaningful contributions to history so..." Canister shrugged, face schooled into a flat expression that was hard to read. "Omelettes, eggs. You get it." Despite the relaxed banter they noticeably didn't come any further into the room, staying where they could keep all of the room's occupants in their sight lines

 

"Wow. Okay, ethically a hot mess and also weirdly, needlessly rude?" Ryder took a show, careful step forward, one hand still raised toward the intruder. "There's gotta be a smarter way to deal with your whole deal than trying to start a fight so you don't feel as bad about the whole premeditated murder thing. Literally just talk to me, okay?"

 

One of Canister's eyes twitched as their neutral look broke into an irritated scowl. "Wild. I just assumed the sanitized, sexless, loves-children-and-animals, theme park mascot version of you from the corpo history minute vids was propaganda but you're actually an oblivious caricature of a person, aren't you? I've had to @#$% around in your time period for longer than I wanted and it's not just an old-timey thing, it's just you, you actual clown!"

 

Ryder puffed up his cheek and let out a loud breath. "Woof. I mean, most people like children and animals, that's sort of the default? And I'm still feeling out labels on the ace spectrum, but 'sexless' is factually--" Abruptly remembering who was in the room he stopped short. "We don't really need to have that conversation right now."

 

"What d'you know. Consensus." 

[Gizmo]

Canister punctuated the statement by snapping the aerosol can in their hand to the left, right arm crossing their body while their left grabbed a lever on their belt and pulled it to a locked position on the opposite side of the chunky central piece. "Chitin Runner Canister, online!" A gravelly, distorted voice replied from the belt, "RGB! Leave a mark!"

 

Their index finger plunged down on the head of the paint can, spraying in a wide arc in the space between them and the others present. Rather than a hiss of compressed pigment the sound was like a shotgun blast as thousands of droplets each punched a pinprick hole into a pocket dimension, bright white light and displaced air bursting forth, creating a streak of distorted space that hung in the air.

 

Slamming the can into the space on the belt opened by moving the lever, Canister charged through the violent tear. "Danger! Flammable!" They emerged on the other side armoured in black and slate grey plates, burnished bolts spinning to lock pieces into place and steel studs on the knees and reinforced toes reflecting the last of the quickly fading light behind them. Their scuffed and stained red jacket echoed the X-shaped visor that dominated their helmet, pulsing with a muted crimson.

 

They channeled their momentum into a high kick aimed at Ryder's chest. The startled teen had just enough time cross his arms in a hasty block before being sent flying backward into the chair Natalia had been using. Not missing a beat, Canister pointed a hand toward Koshchei's scientific equipment and let loose a torrent of scorching flame in an unavoidable arc!

[Gizmo]

Ryder collided with the chair heavily, the clang of metal against the concrete floor lost in thunderous explosion of the volatile equipment on the workbench. Ears ringing and his left shoulder giving a sharp, painful protest the young inventor found his hand already reflexively on his belt as he forced his feet back under him. He mouthed the activation command and toggled the cartridges in sequence as readily as exhaling a held breath. The sounds around resolved back into focus but he thought he would have been able to hear the cheerful call no matter the cacophony: "CYMK! Dream in colour!"

 

Where Canister's transformation had been a violent tearing the ribbons of light that cut through the space surrounding Ryder were almost elegant, the black jumpsuit wrapping around him like a wave crashing across rocks. He was shifting his weight to his forward foot as the white and silver armoured segments locked into place with a mechanical whir. "Cyan!" The Robug had anticipated the call and landed on the faceplate of the helmet the instant it materialized, unfolding into twin fins across the forehead and multifaceted eye, glowing red from within.  "Bush Cricket Instar! Hop to it!” The light blue components appeared and activated mid-sprint as he tackled Canister head-on, multicoloured afterimages of the spatial portals trailing behind him like a jet stream.

[Gizmo]

 “There he is,”  Canister grunted as they took the impact and shoved Chitin back a step, their voice distorted and metallic through their armour's helmet.  “Tell me, Fujioka. How do you seriously preach love and sunshine then turn around and make yourself into a walking weapon and not see the hypocrisy?”  Drawing back they launched forward with a hiss of pistons, driving a gauntleted fist into Chitin's midsection with enough force to momentarily lift the other youth off of the floor.

 

"I built the suit to help people!" Ryder retorted even as he stumbled back a step unsteadily, spots floating across his vision.

 

 “Oh, well. Then you failed.”  Canister advanced, shoulders squared. Even as flames licked around the warehouse they seemed totally focused on their target, ignoring the other occupants.

[Fox]

Graviton didn't seem overly surprised by the destruction of his lab work, but he was certainly unamused; if he had anything to say on the matter, though, he wasn't going to compete with his granddaughter. Nocturne was incensed, hood pulled up over her head and most of her lower legs disappearing into a cloud of black and gold motes. Some of the motes were collecting into concerning blobs of color. "I said," she said, "out."

 

The order was punctuated with a gesture, and the gesture was punctuated with Canister lifting off the ground and finding that their "down" was now directly out the door and into the middle of the building outside - intervening obstacles be damned. "Your rival's starting to annoy me, Cricket. Hit them for me?"

[Gizmo]

Canister went plummeting horizontally, crashing into a support pillar that sent them into a violent spin until their 'fall' took them far enough from Nocturne's influence that they were able to get their feet back under them - not to mention getting under back under them. The impact of their boots and one armoured knee left radiating cracks in the cement as they steadied themselves with a hand and tilted their head up to glare back the way they'd come from being their helmet's faceplate.

 

Chitin shook his own head vigorously, focusing up in the moment he'd been bought. "Honestly? I getting pretty close to losing my cool, too. Magenta!" Cyan burst from the front of his helmet along with the light blue sections of his armour, just in time for the vivid pink, mantis-shaped Robug to bound from her hiding place behind Koshchei and take his place. "Orchid Mantis Instar! Say your prayers!” Light spilled through dimensional incisions around Chitin as he sprinted after his assailant, the new set of components fastening into place. Long, curved bladed segments extended from his forearms, clouded with condensation from the heat generated by the rapid quick changes.

 

The helmet's multifaceted eyes lit up in a contrasting green as he reached the recovered Canister. "Maybe you'll be ready to talk after a quick nap!" Leaping forward he threw all of him momentum into two-armed slash aimed at his target's midsection.

[Gizmo]

 “Been plenty chatty already,"  Canister retorted thrusting both gantleted hands straight forward and catching a surprised Chitin's wrists. For a moment they strained against each other, helmets only a handbreadth apart while sparks shot from the mechanical components of their suits.  “Something about you, Fujioka. I was expecting it after seeing you in action at that concert but here I am @$#%ing out loud anyway."  With a grunt they forced Ryder back, new scrapes in their weathered gloves.  “Time to get serious." 

 

The enigmatic figure pulled the red spray can from their belt with one hand while tugging its blue twin free from the carabiner at their side. "Danger! Under Pressure!" Scarlet plates fell away as they slammed the new can into their belt, accompanied by the boom of violently displaced air from dimension tearing. The new armoured pieces gathered around the arms and shoulders, rounded segments painted deep navy blue with an oily sheen.

 

The light around them hadn't even finished fading from view as Canister took a heavy step forward and whipped an arm around from the shoulder toward Chitin. A metal tentacle shot from their suit like a lunging snake, wrapping around the young inventor once, twice, three times and constricting with shocking strength, pinning his arms to his side and forcing the breath from his lungs.  "How about we both shut up?"  A second coil ensnared Chitin around the waist and lifted his kicking feet off of the warehouse floor, tightening with a distressing crunch of protesting carbon fibre.

[Fox]

Canister may have made it out of Nocturne's gravity well, but the detritus of a decaying rail infrastructure hadn't: little bits of metal and rotting wood were dragging themselves across the floor as she walked into the larger building, forming little patterns of implied violence behind her as they drifted back out of her metaphorical grasp.

 

And literal grasp, perhaps, and definitely literal violence - though the lifting gesture she made to drag a couple spare railroad ties into her orbit was almost gentle. "Why stop now?" she asked. One of the small beams of wood went hurling its way toward Canister, missing its mark to splinter against a beam on the far wall. The second was a bit better-aimed, spinning out to crack in half against their armored flank. "Where's the satisfaction if we can't even understand why you keep showing up to kill us?"