03-28-2018, 03:17 PM
His left eye swollen to near blindness, Crocodile stoically seethed within as Gilgamesh strolled away towards the other combatants. To his right, the illusory form of Ivankov grinned stupidly down as Croc slowly pushed himself to a seated position and spit grit and blood to the stone floor. His remaining eye glared at the golden king’s back as the boy shouted annoyingly at the other two. The child was arrogant and self-aggrandizing. Normally, these would be traits Crocodile would seek to use to his advantage. Such men were annoying, but easily manipulated. However, at the moment, all he could see was his blinding fury at having been forced to allow the boy to, quite literally, walk all over him. Ser Crocodile was no man’s doormat. And if it weren’t for the threat of the illusory Revolutionary spilling his darkest secrets, Crocodile would not have stood for such treatment…
Actually, where had the transvestite gone? One moment, Ivankov had loomed irritatingly over the Pirate, and the next he had simply vanished. No. This wasn’t a time to wonder why. It was the time to act, while he still could. Fighting against the aches and bruises he’d gained from the battle thus far, the Shichibukai struggled to his feet, spat another line of blood to the floor, and forced his palm up before him. His breathing was ragged, nearly as ragged as he himself felt, but he forced the words from his lips as the small eddy of sand in his palm expanded to encompass the makeshift arena.
“Sables.”
For a brief moment, Crocodile contemplated simply retreating from the battle. He was injured, both physically and emotionally, and these were no mere weaklings to be swatted away as he had done to so many others. Yet… the Shichibukai looked back through the sandstorm towards his gilded foe. At the moment, the fool was blindly raging against the wind and grit, shouting impotently into the gale. But, this was a man who had humiliated Crocodile. Ground his boot into his face and spit on him. Even claimed he wasn’t worth killing. Insolence such as that could not go unanswered. The Pirate had never allowed anyone to live after insulting him, and he wasn’t about to start now.
The large man allowed himself to be carried by the fierce winds, his body sublimating into simply more of the already all-present sand at a crawl. In his own world, changing to and from this form was as swift and effortless as taking a breath. But here, in this strange new world, it seemed much of his former strength had been sapped. A voice, buried deep underneath his loathing, hoped that he was not the only one who had been brought low by Omni. Fortunately, Croc wasn’t trying to move too far in his sand form. He allowed himself to reform somewhat behind his golden target, scoring a path of pain across the man’s back as soon as his hook had formed from his constituent parts. Gilgamesh staggered forward under the unexpected blow, which Crocodile used as an opportunity to hide himself within the vortex again.
“Forget them, boy,” he bellowed, struggling to be heard over the wind and sand. “Allow them their petty squabble! Your fight is with me!”
Actually, where had the transvestite gone? One moment, Ivankov had loomed irritatingly over the Pirate, and the next he had simply vanished. No. This wasn’t a time to wonder why. It was the time to act, while he still could. Fighting against the aches and bruises he’d gained from the battle thus far, the Shichibukai struggled to his feet, spat another line of blood to the floor, and forced his palm up before him. His breathing was ragged, nearly as ragged as he himself felt, but he forced the words from his lips as the small eddy of sand in his palm expanded to encompass the makeshift arena.
“Sables.”
For a brief moment, Crocodile contemplated simply retreating from the battle. He was injured, both physically and emotionally, and these were no mere weaklings to be swatted away as he had done to so many others. Yet… the Shichibukai looked back through the sandstorm towards his gilded foe. At the moment, the fool was blindly raging against the wind and grit, shouting impotently into the gale. But, this was a man who had humiliated Crocodile. Ground his boot into his face and spit on him. Even claimed he wasn’t worth killing. Insolence such as that could not go unanswered. The Pirate had never allowed anyone to live after insulting him, and he wasn’t about to start now.
The large man allowed himself to be carried by the fierce winds, his body sublimating into simply more of the already all-present sand at a crawl. In his own world, changing to and from this form was as swift and effortless as taking a breath. But here, in this strange new world, it seemed much of his former strength had been sapped. A voice, buried deep underneath his loathing, hoped that he was not the only one who had been brought low by Omni. Fortunately, Croc wasn’t trying to move too far in his sand form. He allowed himself to reform somewhat behind his golden target, scoring a path of pain across the man’s back as soon as his hook had formed from his constituent parts. Gilgamesh staggered forward under the unexpected blow, which Crocodile used as an opportunity to hide himself within the vortex again.
“Forget them, boy,” he bellowed, struggling to be heard over the wind and sand. “Allow them their petty squabble! Your fight is with me!”
Quote: 544 words, according to Google Docs.