Colosseum - Round 2 - Tartaros vs Adam Gaite

[Storyteller]

The Space Marine felt at home with the assortment of bolters and various other tech that seemed derived from his own home verse, although the irony that he, a criminal by their standards, fought for the Empire in this metaphorical fight.

On the far end, Adam stood before Diablo's flag and the demon armaments. With a shrug, he turned and listened as the gong sounded. He'd got through the last one, he'd probably get through this one too.

Judge – Sinbad

Adam posts first and may do so at any time after 10 PM CDT.

Description of fight area and other information can be found here - <!-- l --><a class="postlink-local" href="http://omniverse-rpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=28&t=4362">viewtopic.php?f=28&t=4362</a><!-- l -->

Please refer any questions to that thread.

Word Limit: 750
Posts: 3
Time Limit: 48 hours
SP use is enabled. SP does not regenerate between rounds. Injuries may occur. Neither injuries nor SP use are factored into judgment, only the quality of writing

[Roger Smith]

Keep it cool, man. Cool. The opposite of freaked out. Calm. Collected. A full deck. Well-shuffled. Not missing any cards. Not even a single one.

The only positive in the entire blasted situation as of now was that he'd managed to stop bleeding. He was still in one piece. Hurt like a son of a bitch, but he was alive and, for the most part, well. Yeah, he was good. He'd gotten past the Jolly Green Not-so-Giant without any trouble, whether it had been luck or his own skill choosing a damned fine time to jump out and assert itself in the most violent way possible. It didn't really matter one way or the other. But that had been then, and this was now.

And Adam was soon to be short of a few teeth if he didn't stop grinding them against each other.

A giant walking chunk of steel and weapons. That was what he was up against this time. "You have got to be fucking kidding me." He could barely hear himself over the dull background rumble of the crowd. They were dying down in their cheers as the echo of the signal gong faded, waiting for the fights to get going in earnest. And even with that -- relatively speaking, of course -- low rumble the only real obstacle, Adam could barely hear himself. He was fairly certain his heart was about to beat its way out of his rib cage and scamper off to find shelter in some place more sane and safe. Like anywhere else but the middle of a fight with -- had he mentioned it yet? --a giant person with a lot of fucking weapons. All of which looked terrifying. Awesome. But terrifying.

This was stupid. It was dumb. It was fucking moronic.

"If I survive this...that troll is getting a boot straight to his painted fucking face..." Swallowing down the fountain of clown-related curses that threatened to spew forth on the tail end of THAT promising image, Adam forced himself to focus. Focus, dammit.

He was in a fight on a bunch of god damn floating platforms. Yeah, that was real nice. All kinds of weird shit. Over his head there were -- no his eyes were not sparkling with ill-contained joy -- a pair of TIE fighters, of all the things. And then there were weapons. Oh lord were there weapons. An armory that looked about as gnarly as the crap below the previously mentioned floating platforms smelled.

By the way: ass. Ass is what that shit smelled like. Desert-baked, sweaty ass. Yes, that was why he looked like he had a diaper shoved in his face.

"Okay..." Adam closed his eyes and took several deep breaths very quickly. "...time to get to work. Get this over with, with the quickness." He took one halting step forward, the clang of his crutch on the metallic construct the only sound to announce it as he lifted up and off, his intention to dart straight up and gain some altitude, and a good angle to take his first shot.

Only he just kind of...stopped a few feet up.

"You have got TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!" For the briefest of moments, Adam's indignation-fueled shriek rose above the drone of the crowd. "ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER! THIS SHIT IS RIDICULOUS!"

He was interrupted from his fit of rage by the ringing crash of metal tearing with a deafening crack. And then another. Craning his neck to cast his gaze earth-ward, he was greeted with what he could only describe as...really fucking big bullets, embedded in deep grooves torn in the platform.

Slowly his eyes crept back up to stare at the walking armory across the fragment of the arena, to see a weapon raised and aimed distinctly Adam-ward. The rage -- and the color, for that matter -- drained from Adam's face. "Did you come here to fight, or complain all day, boy?" came the voice of the tin can-clad weapon-man.

Adam didn't both wasting words to respond. Not because he didn't have anything to say -- oh, he did -- but because he knew it'd come out in a very undignified shriek. Rather, he just touched back down on the platform, dropping into a crouch. Trying to keep his arms from shaking, he brought his rifles's scope to his eye, and lined up an armor-clad cranium in his sights, even with ol' rusty on the move.

.....bang. Hiss.

750 words, 4118 characters according to wordcounter.net

[Tartaros]

Clutching at his now-bandaged side, Tartaros let his eyes wander around the arena, searching for his opponent. Even with the short while's rest he had been provided, it still felt like the wound was burning through his abdomen...

Plates of steel and concrete hovered in the sky as the noxious smell of industrial waste and toxic fumes filled the air, flowing up from the abyss below. Foul things, suffocating everything around them in a blanket of heat, sweat and drowning all sound with the thud of pistons. However, such was the smell of progress, of success.

Finally, the soldier's eyes had settled on his target, a... another child, clad in a deep red set of clothes, grumbling to himself. Damn it, damn it all! What sort of child signs up for something like this?! Are the crowd honestly that desperate for violence? Argh, nevermind, let's get this over with and try not to hurt the sod too much...

Idly grabbing some sort of pistol from the rack behind him and clipping it to his belt, Tartaros clambered up onto another platform, only to be met by a shrieking yell.

"You have got TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME! ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER! THIS SHIT IS RIDICULOUS!"

Well then, the Astartes though to himself, it's starting to piss me off too. Wonderful.

Drawing his bolter with a grunt and firing off a couple of rounds at the boy's general direction, Tartaros was surprised to see his opponent quickly silenced, either by the almost deafening crack of bolts beating against steel, or by their own fear. Both were fine. The soldier couldn't help but smirk as the boy shuddered, and spoke. "Did you come here to fight, or complain all day, boy?"

Before Tartaros could speak any further, a loud bang emanated from where the boy stood, and a crackling red beam burst through the marine's helmet, scarring his cheek. Shrugging off the burning pain with a seething breath, he stood seemingly unfettered, and continued. "Bravo! Great shot! Now, see if you can hit me again."

Tartaros took off with surprising speed, at least for something his size, leaping from one platform to the another, firing off a half-dozen rounds vaguely in Adam's direction before ducking behind a small scrap metal barrier. "Well then?"

-----

Adam found himself grinding his teeth again, turns out the rustbucket was a one for talking too. Just goddamned excellent. "Oh I'll hit you son of a bit-", wait... what's that thing flying through the air? Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Superman?! Nope, it's a grenade. Wait... CHRIST ON A BIKE IT'S A FUCKING GRENADE.

Swallowing a veritable torrent of screaming and curses, the "brave" Heir of Time threw himself backwards... directly into the racks of weapons and banners that lined the wall. Fortunately, physics seemed to not be picky that day to what constituted decent cover, and Adam was mostly saved from the fiery blast. Though it still hurt like a motherfucker.

Right, right. It's fine. Nothing broken this time. All fine. Just take one of these guns and get on with it. He's got no chance.

Just as Adam grabbed one particularly intimidating glowing-red rifle, there was another explosive... making its way through the air. He was fucked, upwards, downwards, left, right, and twelve ways to Sunday.

"SHITSHITSHITSHITSHITSHIIIIIIIIIT!", the Heir of Time only had one chance. He had to make it quick. Holding his breath, he counted down. Three... two... one!

With the snap of a finger, a ripple spread around around Adam, covering the whole platform. As the boy's eyes shifted around, nothing was moving. It worked! He was alive, well and safely un-bombed, but he had to make this quick...

629 words, 3674 characters according to wordcounter.net

[Roger Smith]

DON't PANIC. DON't PANIC. DON't PANIC. DON't PANIC.

GOD DAMMIT ADAM DON'T TELL YOURSELF NOT TO PANIC.

A few seconds without being blown to fucking shreds was all he really had now. Sure it was a good thing but oh god he was still fucked. Diving behind thoroughly unimpressive cover had barely saved him from the first blast, and now the second grenade was looking to bounce its way right into his face. Inside the mass of weapons and assorted fight-y implements that he had taken cover among the first time.

He was gonna have a bad time.

You gotta calm down and think, man. Adam bro. Slow down. Think.

"Okay...options..." He kicked off a running monologue in his head. His eyes were firmly affixed to the imminent small bouncing metal object of explodey death, so he couldn't take a look around. He really needed to work out a means to not freeze himself in time when he needed to get a look at things."The obvious thing to do is not get blown up. Which means getting the grenade and myself a very respectable distance apart. Very far apart, preferably. Don't have time to make any kind of move like that, myself...not enough time. But maybe..." His eyes lit up with a wicked gleam, and had he not been, y'know...frozen in time and all, there would have been a grin to match.

I got this.

Time started to re-assert itself, slowly at first, like a frame-by-frame on an old tape. And Adam took full advantage of it. Moving in virtual slow motion, he lunged forward, bracing himself with one hand on the ground, and whipped around with his good leg. His eyes were lit up with a faint red glow, the possibility of fucking up his desperate gamble playing hundreds of grisly scenes through his mind: all of them ended with him being blown to bits.

But he didn't fuck up.

Clack-clang!

His shin hit the incoming grenade, and sent it sailing drunkenly back through the air, in the general direction of the giant rusty weapon rack. Adam was generous enough to let fly a parting yowl of pain in his direction as well. Kicking grenades with your unprotected shins wasn't pleasant. It was something he probably should have known, but desperation breeds no time for common sense.

He crashed down on his chest, rolling over several times and landing precariously close to the edge of the platform. "That was awful...that was shit, that was terrible...." He struggled to rise, being as careful as he could not to put any weight on his grenade-impacted leg, just in time to hear the explosive device go off. Adam stared at it like a stupefied, explosion-fascinated twit, the big boom reflected in his glasses clearly.

It was pretty freakin' cool.

But he didn't really have time for that.

Hauling his sorry ass back up to stand, he looked down at the rifle he'd snagged from the weapon racks. "What the fuck does this even do?" He swung it around to point at the opposite side of the field of battle, and was alarmed to see Tartaros out of cover and in the middle of a leap to another platform. A much closer platform. And then his finger found the trigger of his spoopy doom hell rifle.

For just a split second, he was assaulted by a smell worse than the concentrated nasty down below the ring, and then a wave of searing heat belched out of the rifle. A glob of what looked very much like lava blazed out of the guns barrel, arcing through the air and hitting rusty's perch with a sizzle and groan of protesting metal. Then everything exploded half a second later, sending fire and HATE every which way.

Adam's expression went from confused as hell to filled with delight in the space of a second. A series of three more hell-bombs was launched to mostly cover the platform the giant weapons-toting man was on, before the young former time god tossed the weapon aside and turned his eyes skyward. To the TIE fighter suspended overhead.

"Can't believe this shit. Gonna get to blast me somebody with a TIE fighter....if I can get up there."

He flexed his knees, wincing at the spike of pain it caused, and jumped for all he was worth.

740 words, 4065 characters according to wordcounter.net

[Tartaros]

Keep it together dammit! You'll be fine! Do it!

Wincing in pain as he flexed his legs, Adam took off, his body flying through the air, limbs flailing around the place with all the grace of a drunken orangutan, managing to land on one of the less battered platforms perfectly. Well, if by perfectly you mean head-first into a TIE fighter’s wing and gripping on for dear life.

“Just don’t look down and you’ll be okay…”, Adam reassured himself, clumsily clambering over the panel. Falling onto the roof of the vehicle with a grunt and narrowly dodging another hail of gunfire, Adam pulled himself back onto his feet.

Instinctively reaching for his crutch-rifle, he he came to a sudden realization. He could actually move!

Wait… did I just?… I did, didn’t I? Holy shit… I can walk again. I CAN FUCKING MOVE PROPERLY AGAIN! HELL YES!

Unfortunately, his squee of delight and shock was cut short by the crackle of a beam bouncing off the vehicle's hull. Staring down, Adam found a half-melted bolter and burnt, figure on the platform below, glaring at him and taking aim with a pistol.

Whatever was left of the Heir of Time’s grin quickly faded as ol’ rusty opened its mouth. “That there? You shouldn’t have done that, boy. You really shouldn’t have.”

Nope, not going back down there. Nope. Not at all. Several varieties of screw that. No chance in hell. Fuck that noise, I’m out. Should never have let that fucking clown drag me here.

Trying to hide himself on the vehicle’s wing and shakily bringing his rifle to bare, Adam held his breath, trying to line up its sights with the behemoth's leg. Blast the thing out from under him, laugh as the moron collapses under its own weight, and live to see at least another few minutes. Simple. All he had to do was keep the fucker place for a few moments and try not to get shot.

”Three…”

”Two…”

Right, there, right in kneecaps. He'll be down in no ti- Oh fuck... Oh fuck no… Something like that does not jump that high. No. Not on my watch.

Letting out an audible whimper, Adam curled his finger around his rifle’s trigger.

”ONE!”

With a crack and a flash of light, Tartaros was knocked back onto his knees, the white-hot beam of energy passing through his leg. His muscles seizing up in pain, the marine could only stare and seethe as Adam snickered, crawling into the TIE fighter.

The boy gripped the controls tightly, barely able to contain his excitement as the machine soared around the arena. Grinning maniacally, he clamped his finger down on a bright red button, spewing forth a torrent of glowing red beams, much to the delight of the cheering crowds above. Damn it felt good.
“Now, to deal with buckethead…”, Adam muttered to himself as he buzzed around the air.

-----

Grunting in pain, Tartaros tried to force himself back onto his feet. As his legs stumbled forwards, his ankle shuddered and bled, but it didn’t matter. He had to keep moving. He had to, or he was already dead.

With bursts of blaster fire raining down from above, the soldier limped as fast as he could, simply tossing himself over each platform. Glancing up towards the fighter racing across the arena, he noticed a second fighter, floating over the edge of the arena. Well, at least now he had a fighting chance…

Bounding across the platforms, trying to shrug off the volleys of laser launched by the overly-excited Adam, the marine finally reached the end of the line. Practically throwing himself off of the ground and into the air with his good leg, and grabbing onto the TIE fighter’s hull, Tartaros clambered inside and launched the vehicle into the air.

-----

As the twin ion engines of the aircraft humming gently as they glided through the air, the contestants turned to face each other. With they began to charge towards each-other. Adam was first to fire, launching a blast of laser cannon-fire into his foe’s engines, setting them aflame.

The boy smiled in triumph and began to turn for a second run, hearing the breaking of glass. As the flaming fighter of his enemy passed by, a flaming ironclad figure came flying through its pod window, launching shards of glass in all directions, and aiming squarely Adam-ward.

”WHAT THE FUCK?!”

750 words on the dot, and 4255 character according to wordcounter.net

[Roger Smith]

Never before had Adam had the peculiar chance to find himself staring down what had to be at least half a ton of rust, weapons and hate. And glass. He recoiled from the sheer sight of it as much as from surprise, the sudden impact of rusty into his appropriated fighter eliciting a badly-suppressed shriek of terror from the young former time god. He didn't quite bite his tongue, but he most certainly did bang his newly discovered fully movement capable leg.

Oh that's not good.

Scrambling about the controls, Adam hurriedly and perhaps a little unnecessarily violently smashed down what he sincerely hoped was the auto-pilot button, and then hit the ejector seat button. There was a groan of metal as Tartaros's fist smashed through the metal plating of the fighter, and if it had been a second quicker, it would have smashed straight into Adam's head as opposed to the seat, mid-ejection as it was, sending Adam's head and....well, everything, on a direct collision course with the rim of the ejection port.

"Running away again?" came the grating voice of the rust-covered giant of a man. "This makes the third time you've ducked away and avoided a direct confrontation just in this fight."

Adam could barely register the words over the pounding in his head. "Ugh...." He was still alive, which was good. But he was having more than a little trouble catching his breath. "Gotta remember to get the number of the dumbass who designed these fucking ejector seats..." He pulled himself up out of the hole in the fighter's roof, his rifle clattering away from almost nerveless fingers as he did, lodging itself between the core chassis and the wing of the craft. "...gonna file a complaint..."

A phantom pain in his chest, nearly sent him pitching off the crazily listing starfighter. Cold steel, soaked with warm blood. His blood. A sword, through his chest. From below. What was left of the cockpit. He retched, Oh god I'm gonna die, I am going to fucking die. Blindly he scrabbled across the deceptively smooth exterior of the fighter, landing on the wing strut. Just in time to hear shrieking metal. Looking back up, he could see the blade of what looked to be quite a large sword speared through the space he had occupied just a moment ago. "Well if that don't beat all," he mumbled, staring blankly. These wacky time powers of his returning were really starting to pay off. That was two fights now they'd saved him in.

"Do I go for my gun...or get ready to cross blades with the giant murder man who could probably snap me in half..."

An armored fist punching its way through the plating of the starfighter, along with a nasty spike of pain in his back made up Adam's mind for him. Turning around to grab for his fallen rifle would be a bad idea. Reaching down to his belt, he unclipped his lightsaber from his belt. Gotta time this right...in a straight fight this guy will tear me in half...

Tartaros tore his way up through the craft, violently tearing open and widening the escape hatch to toss out the mangled pilot's seat. And no sooner did it clatter down and vanish among the sickening muck below the arena's generously-positioned floating fucking platforms, did Tartaros hop his way up out of the new hole he'd torn in the fighter. The already barely-flying craft wobbled drunkenly as the huge man's weight resettled on it. "Not still running away, boy?"

"It's a long way down," Adam said flatly, and with the flick of his thumb, his lightsaber flared to life with its signature hissing growl, humming dimly in the background of his perceptions. Good god, his head hurt. His everything hurt, really. He'd knocked himself pretty good trying to get out of the TIE fighter with its faulty-ass ejector seat. His breath kept catching, and he was afraid to actually look down and see how bad off he might actually be. Something about things not hurting as much until you actually saw them or something like that.

A swift step forward, and Adam swung the crimson blade of energy up in an arc, being met with only a simple downward chop of the huge blade in the space marine's hands. The shock of blade against blade nearly made Adam's hands go numb.

This was a bad idea.

749 words, 4228 characters, according to wordcounter.net

[Tartaros]

The TIE swung back and forth shakily through the air, its engines crackling and sputtering. Tartaros swung at Adam, gripping his sword with both hands. As his blade crashed down onto the crimson saber of the Heir of Time, the astartes saw Adam’s grip shake under the force of the strike. Stepping back for another slash, he was met with a glowing blade thrust just to the side of his head. Gently knocking it away, Tartaros began circling his opponent, and spoke.

“Good try, boy. More than I expected,” the man swung again, scratching Adam’s cheek, “but you’re going to have to do better.”

Wiping a drop of blood from his face, the boy’s seemingly perpetual scowl grew deeper. “Oh, do better than this rusting garbage can over here? Of course I can’t… Please don’t hurt me, you walking pile of tetanus, I’m ever so afraid…”

Tartaros leaped forward swinging, rocking the half-working ship as Adam ducked away from him. “I was trying to be polite.”

“And I‘m trying to not get fucking killed.”, the boy snarled. “Just get this over with.”

“Y-”, Tartaros was cut off by a buzzing sound that filled the air around them. Looking ahead, he found Adam swinging his glowing blade in the air like some kind of baton, humming to himself. This was getting ridiculous…

Waking forwards over the hull, the man thrust his blade forward, interrupting the show of swordsmanship in front of him. “Cut the theatrics.”

The boy grumbled indignantly, bringing himself into a fighting stance.

-----

God dammit. This is bullshit. Enough bullshit fertilize the whole damn field, or however that goes....

Stepping to the side again, Adam slashed at his opponent’s side, cutting into their abdomen. As the blade sparked against the giant’s armour, it simply stood in place, smirking. Fucking thing barely even flinched...

Ducking out the way of yet another hit, Adam desperately tried to compose himself.

Okay bro. Get it back together. Reshuffle the deck, start again. You can still win this.

The boy’s thoughts were interrupted by the thump of a large set of hides and robes dropping to the floor. Looking ahead, he found his opponent ahead of him, its armour completely bared. Brown-grey plate bared completely and a helmet at his side, he was grinning through his bandaged visage… then it started sprinting and jumping around like some sort of murderous marathon runner...

Oh fuck no. That is not happening. Things that big cannot move that goddamn fast. The ride stops right fucking here.

Adam, desperately trying to hold back a squeal of clown-related insults and cries of fear, steeled himself. Trying to hold still, he felt dozens of timelines flowing through his mind. Steps, strikes, opportunities, optimal choices all clear in his mind.

No chance. He has no chance now, Adam. You are a GOD OF TIME dammit! Fuck yeah!

Grinning as a gentle red glow surrounded him, the Heir of Time charged forward with a sense of renewed vigor. Time itself was shielding him, he had this in the bag.

Leaping past another blow from the figure before him, Adam made a mad dash for the wing of the fighter. Jumping, he landed clumsily on the bent frame of the wing. As a smug sense of victory overcame him, Adam searched his mind for some sort of witty reference.

-----

“It’s over Anakin, I have the high ground!”, the former time god proclaimed, snickering. A very odd statement indeed… Perhaps it was supposed to be humorous?

“What in the hell are you talking abo-”, Tartaros was cut off by the crackling of plasma against steel, searing his skin as the warped blur of Adam dashed across the dented plating of the fighter. Instinctively thrusting his sword at the boy, Tartaros stared in shock as his blade warped. Rusting, bending, chipping, shattering as is reached Adam and coming together when he was safe, all in the blind of an eye… Impossible…

Still taken aback, he charged, ground sparking under his tread. Slashing at the boy again, Tartaros managed to break his parry, cutting the boy’s arm as his saber embedded itself in the hull. Steadying himself for another strike, the astartes was met with a shrieking yell.

“STOP.”

His arms tensing, Tartaros looked forwards, only to find Adam’s skinny figure. His face pale, the boy's trembling finger pointed to a melting hole in the plating, leaking a strange smelling blue gas and sputtering flames...

[spoiler]

750 words and 4382 characters according to wordcounter.net.

Tartaros used Combat Focus. -1 SP
Adam Gaite used Hero Mode. -1 SP

Hero Mode was used with Adam's explicit permission. If this is not allowable, please deduct SP from Tartaros.

[/spoiler]

[Roger Smith]

Note to self: acquire hammer. And then bring it down.

The momentary distraction he earned by pointing out the flaming wound in the TIE fighter's plating was all he needed.

Adam lurched forward, the aura of Time flowing around him fading to nothing. It had been a neat trick. He'd really need to think about it and remember how he did it. It would be really nice to learn to do that on command. He snagged his lightsaber and swung it up in a sweeping arc.

Tartaros staggered back half a pace, surprise etched on what little of his features could actually be seen under the bandages. He brought his huge blade up to block the perceived attack, but met barely any force in the blow. The energy blade merely tapped against the metal of the sword's blade with only a faint clank, not even hard enough to produce a solid impact.

And then Adam grinned, sweeping his saber down his opponent's blade, toward the plating of the fighter. And then he put some force into it, carving a deep, glowing gash through plating and into the hull. Damn this thing's armor is fragile. Immediately the engines sputtered and the craft lurched and faltered, dropping nearly a dozen feet in the air. "Abandon ship!" Adam said with mock cheerfulness. He took a parting swipe with his saber at Tartaros's now exposed head, and then hopped backward, across the central hull and awkwardly flipped over the wing of the fighter, carving another sizable gash and all but severing the huge radiator panel 'wing' from the connecting arm as he did so. "Adios, rusty!"

As he awkwardly sailed down to land about as gracefully as a one-legged cat, Adam couldn't help but watch the now out of control fighter spin and lose altitude alarmingly quickly. It only had a few dozen feet to go before it hit the ground -- or rather, one of the platforms -- but it sure did seem to take a remarkably long time to finally crash down, letting out an explosion that staggered Adam even from where he stood. "Daaaaang....wouldn't wanna be anywhere near that. Better...make sure the Rust Avenger stays down though."

Making full use of his newfound mobility, Adam darted away and hopped across the space between platforms, vaulting over the front of one of the turrets and scurrying up to the controls. "Let me see, let me see...jeeze this is simple. Brad could figure this out." Within seconds he had swung the turret around, taking aim at the burnt and shredded wreckage, and let fire with a hail of blaster fire at it. More explosions pelted and tore apart the remains of the crashed TIE, and the platform it was on, until finally--

"That....that's a big explosion."

He must've hit the power core or whatever it was called of the fighter. There was nothing left now but fire and charred hunks of what might have been the TIE fighter a few seconds ago. And possibly ol' rustbucket.

".....shit I think I just killed that guy.....oh god."

Adam suddenly didn't feel very well.