Third time's the charm? [The wolfish smile says everything Helena already almost knows: that she is not the only terrorist in the room and certainly not the most experienced one either.] Heh.
[Dio steps over the threshold, and reflexively his eyes flick over to the pristine jacket. He wonders what to say about it, and settles on nothing. By the time he looks at Helena again, she's sitting on the bed. His eyebrows briefly rise as he very briefly, very seriously considers insisting once more that he's not that kind of guy - but he's finally going to tell her that he is this other kind of guy. It's much more important. She'll know. Nobody else will. He closes the door shut behind him.
Once Dio has sat down on the bed, he's not sure where to start. He puts his hand on his heart, like the American pledge of allegiance.] So... me. [He's given this monologue to Sigma and Phi before, so he knows how it goes, but actually, that was just a dam bursting immediately after his honor was irrevocably secured once and for all, now that he could actually hear an outsider gasp at the glorious realities of his life and work... and he had figured they'd barely interact afterwards. To say he cares about what Helena thinks is too touchy feely, but he is hoping to maintain an alliance with her, in this case. He wants to let her react and maybe airbrush just a little. And to do that, he might as well start at the very beginning and escalate.]
My name isn't Dio. I mean, that is what it says on my IDs and stuff; you should probably still call me that, especially since we're still here. But that's just my mask for interfacing with the remnants of the corrupted government. Free the Soul deals with them, but the only authority we answer to is God. We're a sacred religious order, and the head, the holy prophet and master, is a man called Brother. Then the hand of Free the Soul is a group called the Myrmidons. Clones of Brother's younger brother Left, who share his face, and his name, and are all equal, like disembodied souls are supposed to be in the new world. The Myrmidons make the prophesied revelations a reality by cleansing the current corrupted world to usher in the great change. [As if it's a joke, he takes a purposefully unconvincing tone of caught red handed voice.] Basically what any unenlightened person would call terrorism.
[As he's reaching the end of this segment, he gets a little relaxed; for the first time in ages, he can take a jaunty tone and sound a little proud of who he is.] Any organization as large as the Myrmidons needs someone who shows they have what it takes and moves up the ranks to be the best example to the others. A fieldmarshal. [His hand on his heart forms to point his thumb at himself.] And that's the kind of ringleader I really am.
no subject
Third time's the charm? [The wolfish smile says everything Helena already almost knows: that she is not the only terrorist in the room and certainly not the most experienced one either.] Heh.
[Dio steps over the threshold, and reflexively his eyes flick over to the pristine jacket. He wonders what to say about it, and settles on nothing. By the time he looks at Helena again, she's sitting on the bed. His eyebrows briefly rise as he very briefly, very seriously considers insisting once more that he's not that kind of guy - but he's finally going to tell her that he is this other kind of guy. It's much more important. She'll know. Nobody else will. He closes the door shut behind him.
Once Dio has sat down on the bed, he's not sure where to start. He puts his hand on his heart, like the American pledge of allegiance.] So... me. [He's given this monologue to Sigma and Phi before, so he knows how it goes, but actually, that was just a dam bursting immediately after his honor was irrevocably secured once and for all, now that he could actually hear an outsider gasp at the glorious realities of his life and work... and he had figured they'd barely interact afterwards. To say he cares about what Helena thinks is too touchy feely, but he is hoping to maintain an alliance with her, in this case. He wants to let her react and maybe airbrush just a little. And to do that, he might as well start at the very beginning and escalate.]
My name isn't Dio. I mean, that is what it says on my IDs and stuff; you should probably still call me that, especially since we're still here. But that's just my mask for interfacing with the remnants of the corrupted government. Free the Soul deals with them, but the only authority we answer to is God. We're a sacred religious order, and the head, the holy prophet and master, is a man called Brother. Then the hand of Free the Soul is a group called the Myrmidons. Clones of Brother's younger brother Left, who share his face, and his name, and are all equal, like disembodied souls are supposed to be in the new world. The Myrmidons make the prophesied revelations a reality by cleansing the current corrupted world to usher in the great change. [As if it's a joke, he takes a purposefully unconvincing tone of caught red handed voice.] Basically what any unenlightened person would call terrorism.
[As he's reaching the end of this segment, he gets a little relaxed; for the first time in ages, he can take a jaunty tone and sound a little proud of who he is.] Any organization as large as the Myrmidons needs someone who shows they have what it takes and moves up the ranks to be the best example to the others. A fieldmarshal. [His hand on his heart forms to point his thumb at himself.] And that's the kind of ringleader I really am.