Poof.
Ayden Cater appeared seemingly out of nowhere. A broad smirk appeared across Shorn's face despite the disconcerted feeling that ran scurrying through his innards like a womprat. He should have felt Ayden as soon as the guy landed planet-side. Powerful practicioners couldn't just waltz into someplace without attracting a certain notoriety from those who could also sense the weird, mystical energy of the Force. So either Ayden was not particularly powerful, or Shorn had just frakked up. Going with the later seemed like a safe bet, given the circumstances.
Confident blue eyes full of malicious mischief settled on the Lord Protector as he suddenly rounded a corner and came into the rather large room which contained row after row of cells. Immediately, Shorn filled himself with Dark Side energy. The aphotic stuff billowed from him like an atramentous fog in the Force. Clarity came sharply to Mikhail, making his vision seem somehow crisper and his body feel alert. This was the allure of the Dark Side. The power, yes, but also the feeling of being so utterly alive. Free from restraint.
Unfettered emotions stampeded through Shorn's chest as he watched the exchange between Lucien and Ayden. Hurt, then anger. His one friend in the galaxy, the one person he thought would defend him no matter what, had basically just told him to suck a terentatek. That really stung. The flickers of irritation Shorn felt toward @[member="Ayden Cater"] now turned to flames of hate. Shorn's head turned slowly from Lucien's receding figure to Ayden's determined features. Mikhail's eyes became cold, like twin daggers covered in an icy sheen.
He watched without comment as Ayden unslung his rifle and popped off a shot at him. Mere formality.
Mikhail raised a single hand and caught the energy bolt on his palm. He could have let it impact against his chest, for he wore an armor fashioned from Akk-wolf scales that would block lightsabers, blasters and a host of other small arms, but he didn't see the point. He needed an outlet for his rage. The iridescent green spear smacked into his palm harmlessly. Shorn absorbed the energy with Tutaminis, one of his three main powers. His fingers curled inward, fist shaking, knuckles popping.
He wore leviathan bracers beneath the Akk-wolf armor. And beneath all of it he wore Ironskin armorweave, a light, form-fitting body armor that would absorb stray energy shots, but a lightsaber would still cut through it like a bunny made of cheese. Unfortunately, his helmet was sitting on a nearby chair, but fortunately he had just absorbed a pretty solid bit of energy that would help bolster his already considerable powers in telekinesis.
Shorn gestured with each hand to either side. His helmet sprang from the chair and he caught it deftly with his left hand. At the same time, a hostage whipped through the open door of the cell and into the grasp of Shorn's right arm. He wrapped his cybernetic arm around the man's throat so that he held him in a classic kidnapper-with-hostage stance. The hostage's body was in front of Shorn. A perfect humanoid shield to intercept Ayden's pesky shots.
"Fight in here? Boring. Let's take this to the real arena. I'll fight you," Mikhail jammed on his helmet with his left hand as he spoke. The holographic interface activated immediately, affording him a multi-spectrum view of Ayden that was a little discombobulating at first if one was not used to military-grade helmets. "-on the Cauldron sands," he finished, voice now muffled though still spilling with snide vitriol.
He began to walk backward down the passage which would lead to the main arena floor, hostage still clutched in front of him.
