[Quarter Finals] Dave & Kenpachi vs Zedd & Violet

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

In spite of the blistering heat and sulfurous fumes billowing from the post-apocalyptic wreckage of what remained of the Empire’s gem, Kenpachi could do nothing but beam. Around him, his legion of infernal underlings cried out in fiendish glee, rampaging across a hellscape of their own design to clash with what remained of Palpatine’s faithful. Though Zaraki typically found himself among the stalwart ‘good-guys’ of his world’s approximation of Heaven, as commander of a menacing cadre of bloodthirsty brutes, he was never more at home. As his zanpakuto met his opponent’s staff with a raucous clang, he allowed a deep belly laugh to escape his lips. “This is fantastic!”

Though the visored kaiser opposing him appeared to bear a permanent grin himself, the indignation in his gravelly tone was unmistakable. “Why do you jeer at me, you brutish imbecile?” As if to underline the authority behind his inquiry, Zedd leapt forward, rearing back to bear the sharpened end of his chrome pike. “I’ll wipe that disgusting simper off of your face!”

The Death God’s blade was raised in an instant, the grating rasp of metal-on-metal ringing clear through the battle’s din as Zedd’s polearm forced past the samurai's parry and found its mark in the robed ronin’s shoulder. With a sneer, the flayed emperor tightened his chrome-clad digits around the staff’s girth, twisting powerfully as he drove still forward. The vindictive light behind his visor soon faded as he felt resistance, a beat later cursing loudly as Kenpachi’s nodachi tore a path across his armored chest.

“I’m laughing because it’s funny,” Kenpachi replied, seemingly oblivious to the weeping stab wound he had so recently incurred. “A guy like me is usually fighting with guys like them,” he paused to point his sword toward the group of marines charging toward his cloven-hooved comrades. “And you look more like a demon than some of the guys on my side. Whoever is running this sure does have sense of humor.”

“Silence!” Zedd snapped, raising his staff. He turned his skull-less head to glance over his shoulder before gesticulating toward his foe. “Minions, fire!”

From the royal Prime’s wake came a salvo of gunfire, laser blasts intermingling with bolter rounds as those not currently being hassled by Diablo’s spawn let loose on their leader’s command. As if solely to spite the armored monarch, Kenpachi lunged through the motley bombardment, throwing a ferocious haymaker into Zedd’s skinless abdomen with his free hand. Zedd had little time to curse the swordsman’s gaul before a sandalled foot quickly followed after, slamming into his menacing countenance.

“I’m really liking this place,” the robed Captain commented as the cannonade of ammunition continued, his voice barely audible over the sounds of gunfire. “After these last few fights I think I’m pretty warmed up.”

“Cease!” Zedd boomed, the gunshots dying down at the alien dictator’s command. Grinding his metaphorical teeth, Zedd raised his staff, the stylized ‘Z’ gleaming in the flickering pyre light for an instant before unleashing a bolt of superheated plasma toward his towering foe. “Now burn, fool!”

Pain danced across Kenpachi’s chest as the electrical assault discharged through his body and into the rusty flooring of what was once Tier-1. The impact was followed swiftly by an explosion, though he couldn’t know whether this was produced by the impact or whatever volatile gasses wafted around him. Either way, it mattered little to Kenpachi. Staticky strands of his unkempt black mane stood on end as he brought a hand to his face. “Lightning...” he considered, before wrapping his fingers around his eyepatch and pulling it free with an effortless tug. As his other eye finally saw firelight, a halo of radiant, golden energy began to rise from the surface of his skin. The eyepatch slowly dropped to the ground as a toothy grin split Zaraki’s visage.

A single word. “Thunder.”

All at once Kenpachi exploded forward, closing the distance between the two combatants in an instant. Zedd faltered backward as the shinigami neared, finding himself a bit too slow to avoid what felt like the impact of a raging bull as he found himself on the receiving end of a dropkick that sent him careening into the dilapidated remains on an overturned hoverbus. For all of the shaggy samurai’s might, though, Zedd’s pride seemed to be the only part of him sustaining any real damage as he angrily wrenched his muscular frame from the twisted auto’s grip. Despite a lack of actual skin, rage itself seemed to be enough to assuage his pain.

“That eyepatch seals my power,” Kenpachi hollered, walking slowly toward his now-recovered opponent. “Seems only right that I start this fight off at full stre-”

The Death God failed to utter the last few words of his taunt, his attention instead drawn by a powerful scattergun blast to the chest, courtesy of a Judge Jak driveby. Lips twisting in annoyance, Kenpachi’s ire quickly vanished as he spied an alarming sight some distance behind the enforcer. Dave Strider lie on his knees at Violet’s feet, his back toward them, wisps of ebon spoke ensnaring his neck. The boy’s blade was nowhere in sight.

A beat.

He hadn’t time to think. “Hey, kid!” Kenpachi bellowed, quickly tossing his sword up before snatching it again by the blade, wrenching his arm back and hurling his zanpakuto toward the pair like a javelin. “Duck!”

900/900 words, via Google Docs.
Kenpachi sworded, Zedd staffed and then threw a lightning bolt.
Zedd is (predictably) annoyed, Ken is having a grand old time.
Eyepatch removal is mostly fodder, it just means he’ll be fighting without holding back.