Double Trouble

[ numericalassassin ]

Zer0’s first thought upon seeing the face of his supposed double is not about how frightening or otherworldly he is, no, it’s about Atlas. How could they have been trying to imitate this creature and fail so completely. He’s surprised to note that he’s insulted, not for himself but for this other Zer0. They didn’t even try.

Wordlessly he returns the gesture, releasing the seals on his own mask with a hiss, pulling the piece forward and up until his head is revealed, not quite human anymore with the mods occupying much of the right side of his face, but far more so than the being standing before him. Both unmasked, the illusion of similarity is utterly shattered.

"They didn’t even try." He says, his voice strange to his own ears without the helmet’s speaker system, his tone disgusted at Atlas’ failing. Nothing like the resounding, lyrical speech of the other before him. Blue eyes, one mechanical and glowing bright, sweep across the creature’s ‘face’ as it were, caught somewhere between remaining fear and awe.

                    The hum he emits is a pleased one in response to the reaction that he is given to his true appearance, unblinking oculars observing silently the removal of the identical veil that hides what his imitation was created from the world. It’s true, Atlas had hardly made much of an attempt when it came to the many series of assassins created in Zer0’s likeness in an attempt to replicate the original Eridian race. It’s a laughable notion, but laughter is a foreign concept to his kind.

                    "—They didn’t have proper information."

                    After all, that was not far from the truth. Just as Hyperion and the other Vault Hunters did not, Atlas had known just as much about Zer0 as they had—which was close to nothing, save for fluid, poetic speech and rhythmic movement, knowledge of advanced technologies that gave him abilities far beyond the grasp of mere humans. The revelation of just how inaccurate they’d been, however, urges him to press forward, the sound of footsteps falling on the ancient planet nonexistent as he steps forward, the tips of hidden fingers carefully reaching up to prod at the intricate circuitry laced with human genes.

                    Disgusting what humans would do, with the promise of power.

                    Like a thick layer of skin, the suit dissipates from claws, the digistruction following the same concept of his weaponry as it retracts to a hidden sheath stored amongst his body. Fingertips are like daggers, curiously picking and prodding at parts revealed by the simple removal of the helm—but in return, he’s revealing himself, becoming vulnerable in the face of the one person upon this ball of dust who could possibly deserve it. And by the time his shoulder has been revealed, a skeletal wing outstretches itself, the plasmatic webbing and feathers igniting like a slagged fire. As the last remaining Eridian, once he’s revealed himself from the suit, he has full control of the substance—it’s a fuel.

Artist: Sneaker Pimps
Album: Splinter
Song: Lightning Field
Plays: 145
Double Trouble

[ numericalassassin ]

"What can you be then, that I was killed to make this, an imitation."

Something told him he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to have anything to do with this creature that looked like him but was so cold and dead. He wanted to run, for the first time in his life he wanted more than anything to turn and run in the opposite direction, take shelter with his friends rather than stay here and have everything he’d ever known torn down around him.

But he wanted to know. He wanted to see what the point of his nightmares was, why he had been condemned to create the creature he was now. So he stayed, his heartbeat echoing in his ears like drum beats.

                    That is all the confirmation that Zer0 required to begin revealing his true identity to the one person who could possibly deserve to see such. No verbal response comes, simply a bodily shift as his weight rests upon one taloned foot, empty hands lifting to the helm that hides him from the gaze of those who choose to look upon. There’s a lingering moment as fingers hook into the hidden hinges that keep the helmet sealed to the thick, thermal suit, releasing its grip upon the back before he’s carefully prying the mask away—

                                        And what lies beneath is nothing close to human.

                    Upon removal, it comes clear just why a voice distortion tool is necessary—more, a translator, it should be called, as the structure of his frame allows no room for a vocal system any akin to those possessed by the species that has come to habitate Pandora. There is no mouth, no nose, no ears, simply hollow caverns in which eyes lie; several dark, colorless masses, scattered about what would be a human face if he were related to the species even in the slightest.

                    When he chooses to make another vocalization, it’s a resounding sound, a deep hum that breaks and softens, each intonation caught by the translator within the helmet that remains clutched within the grasp of flexible dactyls.

                    "How inaccurate, Atlas crafting me human. I am far from such."

                                        There is far more to this form possessed as well, but he chooses to give his imitation time to take in what has been revealed to him—after all, learning such a factor must take a lot out of a person.


[ death-from-above-bitches ]

"What, you gonna kill me or something? Repawn for around here is free, fucker!"

The man taunts, snickering to himself before starting off. He found it kind of funny that Handsome Jack thought these guys were Bandits. Bandits killed everything and stole cars, made their own guns, burned eachother alive for, meh, the fuck of it.

                    "No, but if you choose not to do as I say, I will certainly make you wish you were dead—and once you respawn, I will hunt you down and do it all again."

                    Funny, bandit, but Zer0 highly classifies the likes of you within that very same category. Tread lightly, and keep in mind that Zer0 is not exactly the sort of being that a normal human should choose to trifle with.






[ justadderidium ]

She jumped backwards from the bright light of the….sword.  Her lips curled back slightly in a small snarl, he was messing with her.

She uncrossed her arms and took a ‘casual’ battle ready stance, looking at him through narrowed eyes.  “I just think I might now that you offered.”

                    Rather than verbally respond, he takes out the particular bandit that he’d crossed paths with, flicking the putrid copper away once the fresh corpse falls with a simply toss of his wrist before the digistructing weaponry is sheathed once more.

                    She is not his target; therefore, he will not bother attacking her unless she initiates a fight first. Continuing on his way, he says no more.


[ bad-maw ]

Bad Maw gave one sharp laugh as he took in the appearance of the assassin. He was a scrawny thing, and just as short as everyone else in comparison to him.

You’re suppose to be some expert killer or somethin’? Right.”

                    "Expert killer is one way to put what I do. I assassinate."

                    And the assassin says no more, choosing to continue on his path straight through to the Bloodshot Stronghold as if it’s none of the large nomad’s concern to bother with interrupting this invasion.

Double Trouble

[ numericalassassin ]

For the first time he can remember, Zer0 is not only enraged beyond belief, he is also completely and utterly terrified. He freezes as the other approaches, this creature giving off a sense of vast power that he cannot hope to match. He’s never met a being who could really outclass him but this, whatever he is, is so far above and beyond anything he’s ever experienced and he’s struck by a wave of terror that forces the breath from his lungs.

"An experiment is not told why they dissected him." When he responds, his voice sounds small to his ears, even as he forces bitterness and anger into the tone. The data he’d destroyed flashes in front of his eyes, reminding him how suddenly tiny he was.

                    The stale Pandoran air about them reeks of those two same emotions—rage and fear. There’s a bubble of a feeling within the Eridian’s core, one that’s all so familiar to him, that threatens to spill forth, one that shows him of the pride that threatens to rip him apart from the inside and turn him into a little more of a killing machine that he already is. There’s nothing more satisfying than being a predator, standing over his prey like he’s made the conquest of the ages with breath threatening to heave and spastic fingertips curling in upon themselves to ease sporadic spasms.

                    It’s so rare that he actually takes a moment to stop, breathe in, breathe out—when he tastes the air amidst, like a snake, a distorted cranium rolls back and lilts to the other shoulder with ease, the taste of a false idol attempting to take the place of a Seraphim is enough to make him nearly wretch from the digestive tract that doesn’t exist. He’s so used to these human concepts, it’s almost foreign to rid himself of them.

                                           "Is that so?" the Eridian finally inquires, frame stone cold, motionless, as he analyzes the responses given by the mimicry of an angel that stands so weakly before.

                                           "I almost pity you.
                                            Would you like
                                            me to tell you
                                            what you were made
                                            in the likeness of?”

Fill this with your muse’s information

Name: Zer0—and that’s all he will be referred to, because his true name is classified information that he refuses to give out to even the closest of companions.

Gender: Agender (he/him pronouns). He’s one to identify as presently male, despite the lack of any recognizable genitalia. The gender representation is merely for the comfort of humans.

Age: Many millenia; he has been around since long before the extinction of the Eridians, and will continue to exist hereafter as the last remaining.

Parents:  There is no proper English translation for the name of his parent, and he’s long since forgotten just what his parent was like or how long he was with said parent before the extinction of his race. Trying to retain such memories has been deemed, in his opinion, frivolous.

Love interest: None other than his work itself. He’s rather disinterested in the idea of love, romance, procreation, etc.; it all seems like it would be nothing more than detrimental to his personal goals. Upon further elaboration, it can also be said: why bother with such close relationships when you get the same sort of satisfaction from gutting a man before he can even see your physical manifestation?

Hobbies: Very little, other than taking missions offered to him or going to others to ask for quests. In his free time, he tends to spend it staring at Pandoran scenery, thinking things over to himself—nothing of importance, simply why the wind blows and why the seasons chance, menial questions of that nature.

Positive personality traits: Motivated: when there is a goal at hand, he is no doubt going to have it fulfilled the way he deems most proper within a given time frame that he has either been instructed or has decided is reasonable. In the same aspect, he is driven, reliable, and rather willing. He is an extremely self-sufficient person, most often seen roaming alone and confronting before he’s confronted when it comes to contact with particular clientele such as the Vault Hunters or Handsome Jack. Zer0 is also incredibly confident, straightforward, intelligent, powerful, reserved, quiet, adaptable, and overall dynamic.

Negative personality traits: Zer0 can be a bit arrogant to the point of cruelty, as portrayed within several threads, with little regard to those around him. Most times, he comes across as callous, cynical, harsh, impatient, impolite, and intolerant, considering he deems very few worthy of his time and prefers to keep his space all to himself. At times, he is cunning and deceitful, borderline Machiavellian in social confrontation when it comes to reaching goals that cannot be reached through betrayal or violence. Rude and ruthless, secretive and sarcastic, selfish and sneaky, unpredictable and untrustworthy, vague and vengeful.

Weapon of choice: Long range: preferably, he sticks to Hyperion and Jakobs sniper rifles with specially modified scopes to ensure perfected accuracy. On occasion, he uses a Maliwan to pack an extra punch in attacks. Short range: Holographic doubles and his E-tech saber and kunai. Each have special abilities, such as deadly sharpness that never dulls, poison laced blades, etc. He ensures that his target either dies—or leaves the battlefield wishing to the deities that they had.

Weak or strong physically: Incredibly strong, something that comes with age and skill. He often displays this: despite his slender, lithe build and lanky height, size does not equal strength. Zer0 is a force to be reckoned with and most certainly should not be underestimated.

Weak or strong mentally: Again, incredibly strong, even if a bit fickle. He knows what he wants and is fully aware that, in the long run, that’s all that matters—that and self-preservation. His loyalty to others may sway, but it will always lie within himself, after all; himself and his goals to hunt down someone truly challenging to face off against.

Selfish or selfless: Selfish, no doubt, though the occasional selfless moment does try and slip itself in. These rare moments are veiled selfishness, however; most often, if he displays himself as someone to care about the well-being of others, it’s an attempt to benefit himself in the long-run. If it all came down to it, push to shove, he’d sacrifice someone else for his own life in the blink of an eye, the beat of a heart.

Wolf or sheep: Wolf, hands down. He is no leader of the pack, but he is a predator. The most silent of killers, one that all should shy away from whilst confronting lest he have no mercy upon them. They could become his next meal, after all.

Something my muse is good at: Murder and manipulation, hands down. He can do both without a guilty conscience, and when he is called out on either, there is no remorse left behind for either action. He’s a natural at the both of them.

Something my muse is bad at: Social confrontation, as he most often drives away those who go out of the way to contact him and he gets on the nerves of those he discusses work with.

What my muse is described as mostly?: A silent killer, a wanted assassin amongst the galaxies that many try to bring down but all fail. He is described as someone who veils his past, present, and future all by hiding his appearance and speaking in ways unconventional to the average human mind.

Why my muse is detested?: His skill, his mocking habits. Most often the latter. On a day to day basis, he tends to be a bit of a jeering ball of narcissism who goes out of his way to torment those who are forced to put up with his presence, and those who don’t take the time to get over that irritating fact oft times find themselves despising the poet of a hitman.

Optimist, pessimist, realist, cynical or…: Cynical realist. Zer0 isn’t exactly one to fit within the category of either optimistic or pessimistic, as he can see the positives and negatives of every situation from each side with ease. When one really takes the time to delve within his mind, they would find he is quite often disgusted by those around him, and finds it necessary to make a brutal reminder of just what kind of planet they live on, after all. Cynical and real are the only ways to properly describe him from the inside out.

Picture of my muse:

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