At this moment, Vector Prime is halfway around the world. He sits in a small pub he's frequented enough over his years in the world that he's no longer out of place; he's accepted as a regular, if somewhat strange patron. It's by his quiet request that one of the televisions has been set to a channel with live coverage of the City.
With distance comes safety, but not only that - it's a distance from temptation as well. The City is capable of defending itself, its heroes more than capable of staving off these horrors. It is not his place to step in, to try and change any of it. It was begun, it will end, time will turn as it turns and all he could do - should do - is bear witness.
In two hours, he will learn of a tragedy. Not that all of this hasn't been one, stacked on top of another and yet more...but this will hit close to spark. Too close for any sort of comfort, and it will leave him temporarily numb, mind racing as it construes the lasting effects. He won't need visions or powers to know what will happen, only the processing of cause, effect, and ultimate fallout.
In three days, he will do something against his better judgement, and take the necessary steps to keep all of that from happening altogether.
At this moment, Vector Prime is coming out over the city, red eyes scanning the surroundings as he confirms his point in spacetime. He can feel it as much as see it, and then he hears it - the gunning of engines. The now-armored form looks up in the direction of the noise, then looks opposite.
There. On a rooftop. A figure holding what is unmistakably a weapon even at this distance. And time continues to turn, and that weapon is fired, a lance of white energy coming forwards with a crackle, streaking towards the shuttle. If it hits, it will more than disrupt his systems; it will send him careening out of control in to a building.
But Vector Prime is already in action.
The crackle suddenly slows in midair, the beam slowing in to what can only be described as a sphere of light. Around it, arranged in a sphere-like lattice of their own, are metal shards that glow with a soft golden color. Below this is Vector, arm outstretched and brow furrowed in concentration as he manipulates the time within his broken swords by will alone.
tl;dr
With distance comes safety, but not only that - it's a distance from temptation as well. The City is capable of defending itself, its heroes more than capable of staving off these horrors. It is not his place to step in, to try and change any of it. It was begun, it will end, time will turn as it turns and all he could do - should do - is bear witness.
In two hours, he will learn of a tragedy. Not that all of this hasn't been one, stacked on top of another and yet more...but this will hit close to spark. Too close for any sort of comfort, and it will leave him temporarily numb, mind racing as it construes the lasting effects. He won't need visions or powers to know what will happen, only the processing of cause, effect, and ultimate fallout.
In three days, he will do something against his better judgement, and take the necessary steps to keep all of that from happening altogether.
At this moment, Vector Prime is coming out over the city, red eyes scanning the surroundings as he confirms his point in spacetime. He can feel it as much as see it, and then he hears it - the gunning of engines. The now-armored form looks up in the direction of the noise, then looks opposite.
There. On a rooftop. A figure holding what is unmistakably a weapon even at this distance. And time continues to turn, and that weapon is fired, a lance of white energy coming forwards with a crackle, streaking towards the shuttle. If it hits, it will more than disrupt his systems; it will send him careening out of control in to a building.
But Vector Prime is already in action.
The crackle suddenly slows in midair, the beam slowing in to what can only be described as a sphere of light. Around it, arranged in a sphere-like lattice of their own, are metal shards that glow with a soft golden color. Below this is Vector, arm outstretched and brow furrowed in concentration as he manipulates the time within his broken swords by will alone.