[The computer is at least kind enough to warn him about the fucking desk. Midnighter turns, and chooses not to block it or dodge. He doesn't deflect. He lets it break over him, shattering in two, metal twisting and breaking as thought it was hit with something much harder and more dense.]
[When the dust settles, Midnighter is bloody-- that certainly scratched him up-- but it's all superficial. Most importantly, he barely reacts to the pain. This is nothing compared to Bendix's operating table, after all.]
no subject
[When the dust settles, Midnighter is bloody-- that certainly scratched him up-- but it's all superficial. Most importantly, he barely reacts to the pain. This is nothing compared to Bendix's operating table, after all.]
[He looks at the wreckage on the floor.]
Guess I owe you a desk.