You keep telling yourself that. War is progressing beyond soldiers on a battlefield, has been for decades. If a war does break out, it's going to be as much those "costumed freaks" doing your job as your fellow soldiers.
Katrin_Romanoff_004's forum posts
Let's hope we don't come to blows.
Reminiscence was strong that day in New Orleans, as the rain fell from the sky towards the machine, her instrument, and their audience. Call it luck, or an uncanny power, but while the listeners held coats over their heads on the street corner, not a drop of water hit the musician or her violin. Her body moved with the notes; the farther down the string she her fingers traveled, the farther forward and downward she leaned; when they moved up, towards her chin, she leaned back away from the crowd, the scroll of her instrument pointing up towards the grey sky. It was passionate, but soft, all at once; it was strong but gentle. Emotion and weakness, or strength and pain, it was hard to tell what exactly led the ringing sounds, but it still touched the hearts of the listeners like little else could. Katrina Romanova knew this, and she allowed it.
It was her own emotion that she put into that instrument, not only on that November day, but all days. Her own grief and pain and power pressed into the song. An aura added to her music, clearly magic to those who knew what it felt like, but just sadness to those who didn't. People would place credit on her violin for such beautiful sound, and to be honest, she'd allow it. She'd allow it. Mostly because the instrument was as valuable to her as her own life.
Things were changing. Everything was changing around her. Grim city, now under the rule of a tyrant she had had the power to stop, but didn't for fear of destroying everything. What was power like hers? The power to control the very fabric of the cosmos? Why had she, a machine, been granted that power? Pure chance? The sheer scientific reason of her skeletal structure? It didn't make sense. For someone who had the power to bend the will of time and space, to reverse deaths, to destroy worlds and subject entire races to her will... she didn't. It wasn't her place to use that much power. Was it? Mega Justice, now Pain, had no regrets about doing exactly that with his power. Surely if someone so terrible could inflict punishment upon his people, she could do something about it.
No. No, because she wasn't him. She tried to tell herself she was better than people like him. Her power could lay dormant while others fought, others without such abilities. Others who knew the right and wrong of the world. Who knew that? Supra-Man, for example. She'd felt the force of the blows he'd exchanged with Pain through her attachment to the earth. It rang through her skeletal system, evoked purple arcanery and sang to her basic programming. Go, fight, win! She could. Given another chance, she could. She would. No. She wouldn't, and she knew it. Grim had been a painful day, but it wasn't her place. Not her place to change fate. She was strong, sure, but what was there to stop her from becoming carried away? From becoming like Mega Justice, now Pain? From trying too hard to make the world a better place for people?
No. No, because that wasn't her place, that wasn't how she was meant to make the world a better place. No, because that's not what Dr. Peters would have wanted from her. No, because here, now, in this rain, she could actually feel her pocket of the world becoming a better place, despite her power, her grief, her conflict. She could feel the people who left, even those who didn't leave any money behind them, have a little bit of a brighter perspective on life.
Her pocket of the world, this pocket of New Orleans, was a better place, thanks to her. She didn't need to fight men's wars. This was where she belonged. Nothing could change that. Or at least, that's what she told herself, as she flowed with the music, and the rain, on a late November day in New Orleans.
War isn't about the killing.
John Hand was a curious man, Katrin realized. More curious than she originally thought. She felt a shift, a shift in time. It ceased to move, an effect similar to squashing a cube into a polygonal square. You just had to fold time to hold matter still. That was the the very simplest way to think of it, but it was enough for her mind to take. Strange, though. Strange how he could process this ability with a thought. She was curious as to the origin of his ability, but decided against asking or prying. He wanted a song, and a song he could have.
"Anything in particular?" she asked in reply, picking up her case and laying it across the table. She opened it and took in the smell of an enclosed instrument, an older, musty smell, beautiful to her no matter how often she breathed it. Gently she unstrapped the instrument from the box and fastened the shoulder rest to the side, before setting the instrument down and removing her bow and beginning to rosin it almost tenderly. Honestly she did this all the time before a performance, removing herself from time in order to have all the time in the world. She didn't care that his eyes were watching her. For however long the song lasted, it would just be Katrina and her instrument.
Former cyborg, with a fetish for violence. I think I should be surprised, but I'm not.
Strange. I can't find much about them.
Katrin tuned her ears to match the frequency of the vampire's voice as he began talking to the girl, keeping a figurative eye on him as she turned to face John completely. The monster knew better than to outright ask the girl for her blood, instead beginning to flirt. Though, she had a feeling he would appreciate a little fear in his meal. That wasn't important now. "More powerful than a seer, then. Oracles see every timeline leading to one possibility. Yours seems much more powerful." She hesitated, then smiled, a little arrogant but in no more than a passing way. "Allowing me to?" she asked, brows arching again. "There are powers even beyond time, Mr. Hand. Do not assume anything about me." She controlled her tone, however, to make it just a friendly warning.
He changed the subject to her. Her eyes, slightly younger than his, softened as she looked down at her instrument. "Yes," she replied. "I play. For many different reasons."
Katrin wasn't surprised to hear her name. There was a time when she performed quite often in cities like this. It was a while ago, most people would expect her to be older, but considering the gentleman's age he might recognize her from time gone by. She didn't take her eyes off the young vampire, even as John Hand spoke to her. She threw him a quiet sidelong glance and a soft smile, polite but not strictly so. He seemed to understand that she needed to keep an eye on the boy. One of her delicate black eyebrows raised with interest as the man mentioned the boy's fate, and everything fell into place. Her smile widened a bit.
"You're a seer, then," she murmured. "Either that or quite clairvoyant. You don't see many who dabble in the passage of time anymore. It's quite interesting." Her smirk faded. "He does have me concerned. His air is of someone planning to do something incredibly bold or incredibly stupid. The two often intertwine..." And so they did. Even as she spoke, the man pulled a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and began heading for the door, unable to take the pressure of Katrina's gaze any more. That wasn't all, though. Katrin took a quick trajectory check. She didn't know John Hand very well, but she had a feeling he wouldn't take well to one of his girls being possibly killed. She watched the vampire approach, some sort of potion protecting his thin flesh from the late afternoon sunlight. Her face didn't change, however. She could watch him in her peripheral. If he didn't go straight for the attack - which he wouldn't in broad daylight on a busy street - he would try the seduction approach. Which could take minutes or hours, especially if he wanted to wait to eat until the shadows were long enough to protect him from hunters. She would wait until he began leading the girl away from her companions. Then she'd be able to handle the situation better.
"He's safe for now. I'll become involved before he does anything dangerous."