Never mind. Futaba is attached to the robot, and the robot is still moving, still attacking, as if the sleep ailment only affected the part of him that has a soul. Whatever programming remains isn't going to like what Futaba is up to, and Futaba is vulnerable, right in reach.
So Ren darts in, dagger in hand, and aims his blade at the robot's shoulder. It's nothing like stabbing a human or even a Shadow; metal screeches on metal, and he has to change his angle and stab again before his dagger finds a seam and sinks in. He twists the knife with all his strength, feeling something unseen give way beneath it, and yanks it out. Sparks scatter off the edge of his dagger; he leaps back again, attempting to dodge retaliation.
no subject
Never mind. Futaba is attached to the robot, and the robot is still moving, still attacking, as if the sleep ailment only affected the part of him that has a soul. Whatever programming remains isn't going to like what Futaba is up to, and Futaba is vulnerable, right in reach.
So Ren darts in, dagger in hand, and aims his blade at the robot's shoulder. It's nothing like stabbing a human or even a Shadow; metal screeches on metal, and he has to change his angle and stab again before his dagger finds a seam and sinks in. He twists the knife with all his strength, feeling something unseen give way beneath it, and yanks it out. Sparks scatter off the edge of his dagger; he leaps back again, attempting to dodge retaliation.