[Guy doesn't react with the revulsion many people would, or at at least it doesn't show on his face. He watches the video with an expression that gets stonier the longer he watches. Colder. The victim clearly wasn't attacking and looks terrified, so it isn't self defense on the attacker's part. It's horrible and gruesome. Soulless. Inhuman. Sadistic.]
[The hardness and coldness that slowly comes into Guy's eyes speaks volumes about whether or not he can do this. About what he's seen.]
[So does the disgust. It isn't the kind of disgust that makes someone lose their lunch, though. It's the kind of disgust that lives side by side with contempt.]
[It did not used to be there. From the beginning he was willing to deal with some of the monsters in the arena like the predators they were, but hatred, contempt, reviling people like this hadn't been second nature- because he knew no people like this. His entire world had been people that were a little rough around the edges but who had become loving and nurturing and kind.]
[But then he met people that deserved to be hated.]
[Loathing hasn't made a home in his heart, but nowadays it at least knows how to temporarily rent out a space.]
[Guy quietly reaches into his pocket for a bandana he's been using off and on to tie his hair out of his face. He ties it over the lower part of his face instead. He cinches up the hood of his sleeveless hoodie to hide his hair. Even thinks to reach down and smear his hands over some of the grime of the roof to smear over the stained stripes on his bicep. He doesn't want to have to change the design so it helps cover it up. He smears his hand against his jeans to clean it off somewhat.]
[He knows about the existence of cameras and is smart enough to be paranoid about them. Is smart enough to hide identifying features. And also knows he has to trash these clothes later. A shame, really, he does like them.]
[He kneels and crawls closer to the edge of the roof, sinking down low.]
I've stopped people like this before. It would've been permanent if they hadn't been revived. What's your plan?
no subject
[The hardness and coldness that slowly comes into Guy's eyes speaks volumes about whether or not he can do this. About what he's seen.]
[So does the disgust. It isn't the kind of disgust that makes someone lose their lunch, though. It's the kind of disgust that lives side by side with contempt.]
[It did not used to be there. From the beginning he was willing to deal with some of the monsters in the arena like the predators they were, but hatred, contempt, reviling people like this hadn't been second nature- because he knew no people like this. His entire world had been people that were a little rough around the edges but who had become loving and nurturing and kind.]
[But then he met people that deserved to be hated.]
[Loathing hasn't made a home in his heart, but nowadays it at least knows how to temporarily rent out a space.]
[Guy quietly reaches into his pocket for a bandana he's been using off and on to tie his hair out of his face. He ties it over the lower part of his face instead. He cinches up the hood of his sleeveless hoodie to hide his hair. Even thinks to reach down and smear his hands over some of the grime of the roof to smear over the stained stripes on his bicep. He doesn't want to have to change the design so it helps cover it up. He smears his hand against his jeans to clean it off somewhat.]
[He knows about the existence of cameras and is smart enough to be paranoid about them. Is smart enough to hide identifying features. And also knows he has to trash these clothes later. A shame, really, he does like them.]
[He kneels and crawls closer to the edge of the roof, sinking down low.]
I've stopped people like this before. It would've been permanent if they hadn't been revived. What's your plan?