[ There are many places that Cage would rather be, and none of them are where he needs to be. This training simulation is a new one, but eerily familiar to him. The air is warm and smells like metal, these details stitched into the programming with an expert finesse. The training floor is big and industrial, and great, spider-like robotic horrors hang from mechanical arms from over head. They move with insectile, jerky speed, given to suddenly twitch and spin in a frenzy, and attack suddenly, from any angle.
He is decked out in familiar armoring, strapped into the power suit native to the world he came from, a lighter weight, more agile thing than the APUs in the real world. ]
Before we get started [ he says, possibly to the omniscient operator overhead, possibly to whoever is joining him ] I'd like to point out that the last time I did this, it was kind of a predetermined--
[ But a whine of machinery stops him from talking, and he moves faster than the clunky machinery he's encased it ought to suggest. A blare of machine gun fire fills the room, mounted off his left arm, sending the hanging mimic-like bot veering away sharp. The next one is slammed aside by the swing of his right, the screech of metal almost as intrusive as gunfire. ]
--
It's not enough to know where they are.
[ If Cage is taking any small amusement from standing where Rita had once stood, repeating her words, it's communicated in the half-smile on his face that is ever present anyway, only a private joke to himself. He's off on the sidelines, now, with a hand on the switch that stops and starts the training, as he watches the latest recruit fathom the machines put in place to test their reflexes, strength.
They're the same as his world, impossibly fast, devestatingly ruthless, spinning four legged starfish mechanical monsters whose only objective seems to be slamming with lethal force into people and sending them flying. ]
You have to know how to kill them.
[ His thumb depresses red button, and the machines twitch to life, whirl in place. ]
bill cage | edge of tomorrow.
He is decked out in familiar armoring, strapped into the power suit native to the world he came from, a lighter weight, more agile thing than the APUs in the real world. ]
Before we get started [ he says, possibly to the omniscient operator overhead, possibly to whoever is joining him ] I'd like to point out that the last time I did this, it was kind of a predetermined--
[ But a whine of machinery stops him from talking, and he moves faster than the clunky machinery he's encased it ought to suggest. A blare of machine gun fire fills the room, mounted off his left arm, sending the hanging mimic-like bot veering away sharp. The next one is slammed aside by the swing of his right, the screech of metal almost as intrusive as gunfire. ]
--
It's not enough to know where they are.
[ If Cage is taking any small amusement from standing where Rita had once stood, repeating her words, it's communicated in the half-smile on his face that is ever present anyway, only a private joke to himself. He's off on the sidelines, now, with a hand on the switch that stops and starts the training, as he watches the latest recruit fathom the machines put in place to test their reflexes, strength.
They're the same as his world, impossibly fast, devestatingly ruthless, spinning four legged starfish mechanical monsters whose only objective seems to be slamming with lethal force into people and sending them flying. ]
You have to know how to kill them.
[ His thumb depresses red button, and the machines twitch to life, whirl in place. ]
Again.