Percival Io
Missionary Man
Lancelot 2.0 had no idea why Vivian seemed so upset, but after he got dressed he gave her a pat on the shoulder. It was a painfully inept attempt at comforting the woman, coming from a being which had just been brought online mere minutes ago.
Alvis, who wasn’t built for the kind of hardcore combat mission the group intended to embark upon, elected to remove himself from the situation entirely. The Entertainer Model quietly returned to his life as an undercover agent, playing the role of a beloved celebrity.
An hour later, Lancelot, Vivian, and Moya were back on the streets of Zeltros. Still a hedonist at heart, his gaze followed the beautiful bodies out partying. But the reactions to his staring were different than they had been to the previous version. The old Lance had been a charmer, but this one just seemed to make people uncomfortable. There was something vacant in his stare, a lack of empathy in his smile. Granted, his two companions were both strange and clearly unnatural, but now everyone gave all three of them a wide berth as they passed.
The group reached a sewer entrance guarded by industrial droids. Predictably, a fight ensued. Under normal circumstances, the droids would be no match for the trio. But due to the theft of their personas by the Society, Vivian and Moya were left severely weakened.
Lancelot was not so hindered. He darted from cover to cover, picking off the droids as he went. The night was full of the flash of his laser eyes, the slash of his energy blade, the shriek of his metal claws and the howl of the sonic weapon in his throat.
When all of the droids had been destroyed, he turned toward the women with a soulless grin on his face. “C’mon, gang! Let’s go get your elite skins back!”
Alvis, who wasn’t built for the kind of hardcore combat mission the group intended to embark upon, elected to remove himself from the situation entirely. The Entertainer Model quietly returned to his life as an undercover agent, playing the role of a beloved celebrity.
An hour later, Lancelot, Vivian, and Moya were back on the streets of Zeltros. Still a hedonist at heart, his gaze followed the beautiful bodies out partying. But the reactions to his staring were different than they had been to the previous version. The old Lance had been a charmer, but this one just seemed to make people uncomfortable. There was something vacant in his stare, a lack of empathy in his smile. Granted, his two companions were both strange and clearly unnatural, but now everyone gave all three of them a wide berth as they passed.
The group reached a sewer entrance guarded by industrial droids. Predictably, a fight ensued. Under normal circumstances, the droids would be no match for the trio. But due to the theft of their personas by the Society, Vivian and Moya were left severely weakened.
Lancelot was not so hindered. He darted from cover to cover, picking off the droids as he went. The night was full of the flash of his laser eyes, the slash of his energy blade, the shriek of his metal claws and the howl of the sonic weapon in his throat.
When all of the droids had been destroyed, he turned toward the women with a soulless grin on his face. “C’mon, gang! Let’s go get your elite skins back!”
