A thunderous boom <span class="mu-i">erupts</span> from your chest: not by metaphor, but by the most literal of meanings. The cube <span class="mu-i">shatters</span> in your hands as vicious, violent maelstrom of power consumes you from your heels to the tip of your ears, almost overwhelming. Your body trembles as this hurricane of what you understand to be pure <span class="mu-i">energy</span> seemingly grows with every micro-second that flashes past, tiny shards of concrete and metal lifting into the air, your hand—now vacant of the blue wisdom cube—balling into a fist with the bending of your elbow towards yourself, upright and pointing towards the heavens. The crack of thunder is followed by the clash and bang of steel, almost as deafening and twice as intense. The underside of your fingernails grow hot; you turn your head to see the Captain, the Lieutenant and your Instructor, their bodies still wounded but their states completely reinvigorated, almost spilling over with an excess of strength.
From the brink, they had been returned.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uiyaqnj2FZ4‘A Commander candidate? No … a <span class="mu-i">Commander?!</span>’
Belfast steps forward, flicking her hair over her shoulder as a sardonic, reserved and somehow … <span class="mu-i">eager</span> expression comes over her features. Cool flames of … <span class="mu-i">something</span> gather around her legs as her cannons, previously reserved in appearance, morph into existence with a more regal, defiant quality. Roon’s eyes go as wide as her grin, her cannons rolling forward to announce their latest volley … only to be knocked off-balance by the eclipse of drones Formidable had launched. No, it would be conservative to say that she’d been knocked off-balance when Formidable had practically <span class="mu-i">leveled</span> everything that was more than forty feet from the tips of your toes, bouncing from rock to rock on her way down. Belfast smirks cruelly, finding her shot. The first strike finds its mark right as Roon buries herself head-first into a large piece of debris, but the demon of war that she was—is—she recovers quickly enough to zig herself away from the second shot, prompting the bloodied Belfast to raise an impressed eyebrow … only be knocked right out of her spot by a white-hot blast that practically hits the bedrock of the island’s structure, dropping another building on top of your now-outmatched foe.
Then she comes for you.
She shoots out of the rubble at supersonic speed, her clothes tattered and her fingers extended … but stops short of a foot from making contact with you.
An elbow jabs into her throat. A knee hits her right in the plexus.
You … are behind Formidable’s force field.
She’s launched away without any fanfare. She isn’t, however, down for the count.
‘How … <span class="mu-i">disgusting</span> …’
Three voices echo in your mind.
<span class="mu-g">Your orders, Commander?</span>
>‘Send her to the next world, Instructor.’>‘Take her down, Lieutenant.’>‘Quickly and precisely, Captain.’ 