Snippet #1680345

Victor Quincy
San Fransisco Airport.

Victor began to freeze up. Not just mentally, but physically as well. His exoskeleton wasn't doing well in the cold, and was starting to harden up. If this kept up, he would be forced to let it recede, and then be humiliated by these complete strangers. That wouldn't be good. He might then want to take back his question. If he could remember what the words were. He was about to speak when he realized everything around him: There was a guy on the ground, behind the man that he heard from another dude as Christian. He then realized a guy screaming at a girl, yelling about how the man on the ground couldn't move and just overall sounding like a jackass. It wasn't until the dude started making cuts in the man that Victor quickly turned away.

It was times like these that he wished that his bipolar kicked in so he could feel extremely happy and just say anything. But with his luck he would just get angry, or stay the way he was - scared, shy. He looked at the Christian guy and wished he could just disappear. But then he remembered that these people may have been the ones to get him out of this city, and that coupled with the fact that his music was still playing gave him some strength.
"Um.." He said again, but then gained a little confidence to speak a little below a normal talking voice. "Are you the ones that destroyed the city? The ones that are those 'unknown' faction the governments are freaking out about?" That was all he could say before he clammed up again. The cold was starting to really piss him off. And that scared him. And pissed him off. He wasn't sure which emotion would come on top. Either would be bad.

What made Victor confused was what they were doing. What was with all of this random fighting? Where they practicing, or going all out? He couldn't tell which one, because the fighting looked extremely serious. With his luck he would get hit by something.