[Round 2] Dave & Kenpachi vs Handsome Jack & Dane

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

“If these two would quit cowering,” Kenpachi sneered in reply, contempt knitted in his brow. The towering swordsman had no issues with taking whatever pain his enemy could serve up, but throwing cheap shots from the shadows was an affront to his pride. “Gettin’ sick of swatting flies.”

As if on cue, the aloof brawler opposite the duo vanished from sight, once more dipping into the aether. A restless sigh forced its way free of the Death God’s chest as he leaned against a nearby weight rack. At this rate it would be easier to just wait for the pests to show themselves.

“Get the fuck out here and fight me, you cocky douchebag,” Dave all but growled, his pale skin flecked with blood and gunpowder. Kenpachi hadn’t paid much attention to the boy’s fight, but it was apparent he had sustained some hits to his psyche as well as his body.

“Heh, you heard the kid,” Kenpachi called into the dilapidated gym. “he’s bleedin’ all over the place and has more of a spine than either of you two.”

Shinigami and Time Knight stood shoulder to shoulder as the seconds ticked slowly by, the taller of the two taking a moment to glance down at the resolution in the boy’s eyes. Scarlet fluid dribbled lazily from the boy’s deafened ear, tingeing his blonde locks a coppery orange. A playful grin wormed across Kenpachi’s face as he thought back to Soul Society and his encounter with a similar adolescent who had stormed in and changed him for the better. The massive blade clutched in Dave’s grasp served only to cement the resemblance.

“What?” The chronomancer spat, offering Zaraki only a brief moment of eye contact before turning his attention back toward where Dane had vanished. “What’re you looking at?”

The captain slowly shook his head, once more displaying a wide cheshire grin. “You remind me of someone,” he replied simply, his slender fingers tightening around the grip of his zanpakuto. He could feel his heart rate climb as he rolled his shoulders, Dave’s resolve lighting a new fire in his veins. “Maybe after this is over we can cross blades, like he and I did.”

Strider’s face registered a second’s worth of confusion before allowing the thought to pass. There was really no time to parse what the robed ronin had meant by that statement.

“I don’t mean to break up the touching moment here,” the mocking tones of Handsome Jack broke the silence, followed shortly by the rhythmic thrum of his submachine gun. Though he still played the charismatic manipulator, it didn’t take a psychiatrist to spot the cracks in his facade. “But there’s always time for a quickie!”

A constellation of slugs wound their way up Kenpachi’s side and tattered his robes as the sneering CEO closed the distance, dousing the duo in a deluge of lead. The Death God lifted his blade to give chase, but before he could make his move, Dave sprung upon him like a wildcat, coming down upon him with an impressive display of acrobatics followed up by a heavy downward swing of his broadsword. Before the shinigami could pay the scuffle more than a second’s attention, his disappearing opponent re-materialized before him, locking eyes to enthrall him in another pact of mutual agony. Despite his superhuman defenses, Zaraki found himself staggered by the sudden feeling of blades twisting behind his optics.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” the shaggy samurai muttered, chuckling as he brought his free hand up to shield his eyes. “I’m not very good at figuring techniques out. Not at least until I’ve seen them a few times.”

“So you intend to fight me with your hand over your face?” Dane monotoned, chuckling softly. “That’s not a great idea.”

“You’ve got me all wrong,” Kenpachi replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t hide or cower. And I’m definitely not gonna let my buddy over there one-up me.”

In one smooth motion the shinigami slid his fingers down the slope of his nose, digging his fingertips forcefully into his eye sockets as his world went dark.

“There!” A sickening squit later, blood dribbled down Kenpachi’s cheeks as his smile grew impossibly wide. “These aren’t doing me much good against you two anyway!”

Sparing not a single second, the blinded battler tore toward Dane’s location, swinging his nodachi in a wide arc. For all of the swashbuckler’s skill, Regan could do nothing to combat the sheer idiocy of the--quite literally--blind swipe of the shinigami’s enormous blade. The craggy brand carved a ragged valley up the man’s chest, barely missing his neck. Feeling the resistance of steel on flesh, Zaraki, hungry for more, threw a fist forward, slamming square into Dane’s nose.

“Finally!” Zaraki cried, adrenaline spiking the already aggressive cocktail flowing in his bloodstream. He didn’t need his vision to tell him that it would be a matter of seconds before his opponent fled into whatever respite he could find, but it mattered little. “Run all you want, I’ll tear this building down looking for you worthless shits!”

850 words according to Google Docs.

Jack jumped out and shot at two bros chatting, Dave sworded him. HE MAD.
Dane tried to Death Stare, but Zaraki blinded himself for reasons.
Zaraki is battle drunk and hasn't a single shred of self-control.