Mock Fight: Gamzee Makara vs. Adam Gaite

[Roger Smith]

It was cold. Like not just cold, but really fuckin' cold. The kind of cold that made Adam realize all too quickly that the God Tier outfits weren't quite as insulating as he had been lead to believe. Sure, they kept out the worst of the wind, and he probably wouldn't freeze to death any time soon....but that wasn't much comfort when his entire arms were nearly bared to Boreas's fucking hate-wheezing.

Fuck Boreas.

For that matter, fuck the North Wind. Fuck wind in general.

But most of all, fuck the entirety of this god damn verse full of ice and cold and pain. It was full of nothing but contempt for anything that wasn't covered in a foot thick layer of fur or rage to protect them from the cold. Adam had neither of those things. It was only the faintly simmering cauldron of pure and utter discontent for nearly everything at that particular moment that kept him from eroding a nice hole to hide in and get out of the wind and snow.

Well, that and the clownish fuck currently staring him down from ten paces away. That incessantly dull, vacant, dopey half grin on his face did more than unnerve Adam. He'd seen a similarly dull, vacant expression on the face of a highblooded troll before, and it had ended with him getting FUCKING IMPALED TO A LIGHTNINGROD.

"Alright I give. I'm apparently fated to be continually haunted by some clown with the melted ass end of a rainbow for blood unless I do something about it I guess."He really didn't want to. He really, really didn't want to. Adam had never been the best at handling Strife when he was by his lonesome. But he didn't really have many other options all the way out here in the ice box of a sadistic man child deity.

Squaring his shoulders, the young Heir of Time brought his crutch up to bear, shaking off snow that had collected upon it, and attempted to dislodge the pearly flames from his own frame as he lifted off to hover a few inches above the ground. "Do or die, clown. Preferably the latter."

[Gamzee Makara]

Gamzee doesn't really like to think all that much. Shit just gets tiring, ya dig? Guess that's why the cold wasn't really bothering him. I mean it's just like cold. Cool. Cold. Wind. Air. It's cold but that's all it is. Cold. There's a...a little human lookin kid saying something to the High-Blood, but it's basically just going through one ear and out the other.

"You said your hunting the what now?"

The teenaged alien scratches the back of his head, muttering to himself about the dude's tirade. Shit's kinda dragging on. Apparently, he's all up and riled up, lookin' for a scrap of sorts.

Gamzee would be all too happy to oblige.

"Maaaan...I don't really know what the hell you're getting at with this dyin' crap, but I'm all up for beatin' the motherfucking shit out of ya...Oh oh oh but gimme just a sec bro."

Stifling a yawn, the clown delves into the unfathomable depths of his pockets, retrieving a pineapple-orange Faygo. He takes a big ole swig of that wicked elixir, wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist, and tosses the plastic bottle at his now floating adversary. It bounces harmlessly off of his chest, but manages to stain some pineapple-y goodness onto the kid's GodTier attire. The Subjuggulator smiles a vicious smile, unafraid to show off his sharp, predator-like teeth.

"Whoops."

The troll's hands swing aimlessly at his sides. From his Jokerkind Strife Specibus, Gamzee's infamous Deuce Clubs materialize into his open hands. He spins them off of his palms in a flashy maneuver, sort of brandishing them at his opponent.

"Honk."

With a blinding speed, Gamzee closes the ten step distance in a matter of seconds. Getting right into Adam's face, the clown lashes out with both of his juggling pins in a vicious parallel strike, aimed at the left side of the human's head. That rifle of his doesn't look very chill at all, gon' have to do something about it. Killing its range would be easiest. Hope to hell that this doesn't end in him getting quick scoped.

The alien shifts his blow at the last second; a feint! His clubs swing in an arc over his opponent's skull, swinging around, down, and then back up again to come crashing into Adam's midsection. Regardless of the outcome of his attempt at 'tricky' fighting, Gamzee jumps up, noggin forward, in an attempt to headbutt the shit out of this scrub.

[Roger Smith]

Faygo. Seriously. The fuck.

Sparing a look down at the pineapple stain on his chest, Adam's expression briefly flashes to one of intense "are you serious" before darting back up to look at Gamzee....only to find himself staring down a face full of crazy, now waaaaay too close for comfort. Adam doesn't even have time to let out an "OH FUCK" of pure terror, merely swinging his arm up to intercept the blow coming for his head. If he'd been caught less off guard he might have seen the switchup coming as the clubs veer off course, whizzing up and over his head, leaving the confused young man only enough time to blink before--

"BWECH!" A gut full of club. It was only his natural reaction, ingrained over many long years of running the fuck away from things that caused him pain, that saved him from earning a face full of clown in the most unpleasant way possible. Jerking back from the pain of the impact, he floated unsteadily away from Gamzee, his free hand now clutching desperately at the point of impact as if that would somehow do something to alleviate the pain, and keeping a wide-eyed stare fixated on the clown, realizing too late he may have just unintentionally and altogether unexpectedly avoided getting possibly gored by troll horns.

That sobering thought in mind, Adam brings his cleverly-concealed rifle to bear in a blur of motion, the ache in his chest making his aim unsteady with only one hand, but the relatively short distance assisting his aim as much as anything. A quick pull of the trigger and the air is suddenly full of the hiss of bright red laser aimed directly at the fucking honk fiend's face.

Meanwhile his left hand had dove into and rooted through his pockets, searching for something in a rather desperate manner, the still-present look that could have been either terror or just good old-fashioned adrenaline remained firmly locked on Gamzee. Being caught off guard once by not paying attention was bad enough. It had felt like he'd been hit with a hammer, even with the awkward angle of the blow, he had no intention what so ever of taking a hit like that full-on. He rather liked his bones not broken.

Continuing to fish through his pockets, he kept his ever so slightly wavering sights trained on the predatory troll, firing a second shot just as his free hand finally finds what he's been looking for. A completely unnecessary flourish reveals the shining casing of his brand new weapon, and a flick of the finger activates it. And the red blade of energy that it produces positively sizzles as the cold air and snow protests against its presence.

Now he had a chance if those clubs came for him again. Hopefully.

[Gamzee Makara]

Oooooohhhh yeaaaaahhhhh damn that felt good. That sickening crack of club against bone. Damn if he hasn't missed that twisted feeling. Sweet contact.

"Keheheh! I got ya good, kid! How about you try a little hard- Hey what's that?"

Gamzee follows the red dot the moment he can pinpoint it in the blindingly white snow, tilting his head as it travels up his sinewy body. As the little polka dot of neon red reaches his forehead, the clown frowns, and tries to slap it so hard that the force of his own hand makes his skull recoil. At the last second, his head moves out of the sights of Adam's gun right as he pulls the trigger. Gamzee's head snaps back into place, a look of supreme shock and betrayal evident on his features.

"Dude...You tried to quick scope me! You motherfucking-"

Gamzee is cut off by another shot fired his way. The tall troll is only barely able to hit the deck before this shot pierces his chest. However, as his body touches the freezing snow, he notices a sharp stinging in his right side, just above his hip. He looks down, and sees that quite a bit of dark, violet blood has ruined the white canvas that he was laying prone on. The bullet grazed him, and damn if it didn't hurt like a motherfucker.

When the troll pulls his face out of the snow, he sees that Adam has drawn what appears to be some kinda laser sword. Gonna have to be a little wary of that nasty thing. Maybe the he can cauterize his wound with that thing. Ha! The juggalo pulls himself to his feet, chuckling at his own dark humor.

"Ya done goofed kid." He mutters to himself, spinning his juggling pins around once more.

Arms outstretched behind him, clubs at the ready, the clown falls into a dead sprint towards Gaite, zigzagging this way and that, hoping to stay clear of his opponent's scope. When the distance has been closed, Gamzee raises his weapons high, as if he was about to bring them down on Adam's skull, before aiming a swift kick right between the boy's legs. Another feint, this one dirtier than the last. The troll's weapons miss the first blow entirely but only gain momentum as they are brought back around in a wide arc. He aims to strike both sides of Adam's skull with his clubs as if he was playing the cymbals.

[Roger Smith]

He was trying not to let the shivers of horribly repressed memories mess with his attempts to keep his aim steady. But when Gamzee got back up, and sees the look on the troll's face -- not to mention the blood seeping from the grazing wound he'd managed to inflict -- all pretenses of remaining calm and rational desert him.

There is a moment of trying to get his aim back on track, the sight of his cleverly-concealed rifle dancing everywhere but where it actually needed to be, before there is a sound not that un-reminiscent of a dying cat and Adam departs from his former location with all the speed he can muster. Not even taking the time to turn around and really put some distance between him and the source of his very real panic, he simply rushes back and away, hovering backwards at what basically amounted to a swift jog. It wasn't fast enough.

With another burst of movement just like the one where he had introduced his clubs to Adam's ribcage, Gamzee was suddenly right in Adam's personal space again, grinning that fucking insane clown grin. Oh god please no. He had a moment to notice the clubs were raised up, overhead, looking to come down on Adam's head, and Adam gives a panicked yelp of "No...!" and swipes his lightsaber up to intercept a blow that never really came...not that he'd have been able to do much to really deflect it anyway. One did not simply turn aside that much strength when you were nowhere near as strong yourself.

The unexpected kick comes up, and hits home. There is a sound not unlike air being rapidly let out of a balloon, and Adam just kind of....falls backward, seeing, quite literally, sparks thanks to his daze, as the clubs smash against each other in the space where his head had been just moments before. He does the only thing he can to try and retaliate, swiping down with his still partially upraised arm with his fancy new laser sword, swinging it about in what he hoped would be an effective arc to try and get Gamzee to back off for even a second or two, and then he hit the ground.

Whump. Despite landing in snow, it was not as soft or pleasant a landing as it was always made out to be.

He took a few deep breaths to try and get his breath back and ignore the pain, planting both elbows on the ground and heaving his shaky ass up. For the moment, panic was being overridden by pain. And it gave him an idea. He depressed the second trigger of his trusty firearm, and immediately he could hear the telltale hum of it building energy for its second trick. Adam had been listening out for it, and expecting it, but Gamzee... With any luck, the overall noise of the swirling snow and the obnoxious glow and more prominent sizzling and hum of the lightsaber would drown it out and he wouldn't catch wind of it until it was too late.

He practically crawled back upright and pushed up off the ground to hover nearly half a foot above it this time, his breathing and posture still shaky from the pain, but looking more determined than ready to flee. For now, at any rate.

[Gamzee Makara]

Gamzee didn't even feel sorry for that literal low blow. Is what it is. If ya can't expect dirty don't play dirty, or something tactical like that. Technically, Adam hadn't played dirty yet, but his nuts were just there.

Okay, maybe Gamzee felt a little bad. Bad enough that he didn't even feel the need to beat this motherfucker to death, just like, within an inch of his sad, sad life. Speaking of which...

As the teenaged alien finishes out his head banger of an attack, he is a little dismayed that he couldn't finish it out at all. As his clubs collide into each other, he barks in pain. His bones vibrate and jangle around inside of his skin, making the clown drop his juggling pins into the powdery snow. He stumbles back while letting loose a slew of swears, most of them involving fucked mothers, and shakes his hands out vigorously. He tentatively nibbles on each hand, just wanting that weird resounding feeling to go away, before leaning over and picking up a club in his left hand. Slowly, Gamzee walks over to the slightly fetal figure that is Adam Gaite.

The insane clown grabs his human foe by the collar of his God-Tier garb, raising him high enough that the human's feet don't even touch the ground.

Gamzee raises his club, aiming to brain the fool that dared stop him from spreading his Mirthful Messages.

"Motherfucker...You-"

He doesn't even get the first threatening sentence out. So enraptured with how best to end this petty squabble, the troll does not even notice the gradually building noise emanating from Adam's crutch-gun. He doesn't even notice that it is aimed directly at his chest. Right as Gamzee begins a bit of fun little pre-KO banter, a blade of red-hot energy pierces his abdomen. The clown chokes on his own words, taking a moment to look down at the laser disappearing from his chest.

There was quite a bit of blood. Violet, viscous blood.

Gamzee has this strange look on his face.

"Adam...That...That hurt dude. A lot. Ow..."

The previously confident juggalo looks so apologetic, so sorry and remorseful for inflicting any amount of pain on Adam. Now he feels just as much hurt. Gamzee grits his teeth, tears in his eyes.

But alas...

The subjugglator lets loose a downright ferocious battle cry, a primordial roar of immense proportions right in Adam's face. Without another thought, Gamzee throws his assailant into the ground, sending quite a bit of snow into the air. Adam doesn't even have time to lay still before the suddenly aggressive troll plants a sharp kick into his midsection. The force of the blow actually sends the Heir of Time more than a few feet through the air. Adam skids and rolls in the snow, and isn't even given a moment of reprieve before the Capricorn is once again bounding after him, single club raised high in the air. Within the last few yards of ground to cover, Gamzee leaps into the air, hoping to land on Adam before wailing away with his juggling pin, blows aimed mostly at his motherfucking face.

[Roger Smith]

At least it had hit. That was what really counted in this entirely fucked up mess of a situation.

"It was SUPPOSED to hurt, you fu--" He was stopped in his tracks before he could even get up a good head of steam going with his rant, and promptly had his glasses nearly knocked off of his face with the intensity of the angry troll's roar right in his face. There is a brief look of intense disgust before Adam hits the ground, sending snow flying every which way, and earning a sharp, pained exhalation of protest, his already aching midsection crying out angrily for violent retribution. He barely has the time to even consider getting his arms under himself to get upright before there is what absolutely must be the fucking golf club of god himself driving into Adam's ribcage.

There is a faint, splintery crack, which as Adam realizes reminds him just a little of the sound of snapping particularly robust sticks. Then he is in the frigid air, sent spinning end over end, only to end up hitting the ground with a dull, fluffy thud. He rolls and flops pitifully across the snowy ground for several feet before finally the momentum leaves him. Along the way he has not only lost his grasp on his mostly useless -- for now, anyway -- primary weapon, the laser-spewing firearm lost somewhere among the snow, but has managed to nearly end up choking on his own breath from the immense, unbearable pain that had replaced his midsection.

He coughs. An unpleasant taste accompanies it. "Please don't be blood..." is the only rational thought to come to his mind. "Oh dear god this was stupid....mistakes were made, this was one... OH GOOD FUCK NO!"

Fingers almost numb from the cold, it takes Adam a moment to realize one shaking fist is still tightly clutching his lightsaber. And he swings it up, desperately taking hold with both hands to try and ward off the vicious onslaught coming full steam ahead for his face. In a contest of direct strength, there was no way he was going to keep the barrage of blows from brutalizing his everything. Even after barely managing to turn aside a few, resulting in several deeply dented patches of snow and cracked earth below, his hands and arms were already on fire, the shock of trying to even deflect and turn aside strikes from someone as much stronger as Gamzee was wearing on him quickly. He was quick enough to mostly keep up with the troll's berserk movements, even feeling as chilled and out of it as he was from cold and pain, and he could read and guess where the blows were going to come smashing down, for the most part...

But it didn't help him in the end. He finally slipped up, and with a grating of metal, one strike managed to simply glance off his attempt to block it and come crashing down on his face. There was a shattering of glass and metal, his glasses utterly ruined, and for a moment he couldn't see anything but stars and a vague red mist. Then he felt another glancing blow carom off the side of his skull and smash the snowy ground. This was going to end very, very unpleasantly if he couldn't do something, and fast.

Desperation and no small amount of steadily-growing panic and pain clouding his rational thought, he struck back. His good leg came up in a swift kick, aiming to plant itself in Gamzee's midsection, hoping against hope to just push him off for even a second. So caught up in his assault, the troll was caught off guard, letting out a whuff of expelled breath, and staggering dumbly upright, though looking more surprised than actually seriously hurt by the surprise tactic. But it did give Adam the moment he needed. He brought his light saber up and around in a wide sweep, aiming for the hand holding that damn juggling club. There was a ringing clang, and the laser blade bounced away with only a bright purple gash on the club-holding hand to show for it, though it did throw the subjuggulator further off balance -- enough to let Adam bring up both legs this time, and plant a much more desperately focused kick, finally tipping the balance and knocking Gamzee onto his back and letting Adam free.

And he took his chance as best he could, scrambling away as quickly as possible to regain his feet. "This...." he heaved out with a mouthful of blood and what he seriously hoped wasn't a tooth. "....was nothing but shit."

[Gamzee Makara]

Adam takes aim, and bolt after bolt from his rifle slams into the advancing juggalo. Gamzee walks through the hail of bullets, wistful and regretful smile plastered onto his stupid face. The young time-boy backs up in a panic as his foe grows ever closer, before he realizes that he is actually out of available ground to back up on; he's reached the edge of the glacier. Behind him roars a dark and icy sea, waiting to swallow him whole.

"Sh-Shit..."

And when he turns around to face his aggressor once again, he's staring right into those creepy yellow eyes, nose to nose.

"...Shit."

Gamzee takes a breath, as if he's about to say something. Adam flinches.

"BEST BRO! :oD"

It is in this odd moment of confusion that Adam realizes he could just fly away, that the roiling sea is hardly even an obstacle.

It is also in this moment that the clown wraps his bestie up in a tight bear hug/tackle, sending the both of them over the edge of the glacier. They nose dive off the sheer drop, ten stories high or so. The alien laughs and giggles in jubilee, while the Heir of Time screeches in terror.

Quite the pair, those two.