05-26-2015, 01:43 PM
Neal could practically feel dawn approaching as he patched himself up. Thanking his good senses, the bag he so intelligently collected before his strategic retreat held a bounty of food and water, but no bandages. It ached him to do so, but Neal resorted to using the only other items he had been allowed: the very clothes on his back.
He hung his long coat upon a branch in the tree he had taken refuge in, and stripped his shirt. Literally. He started with the sleeves, ripping the cloth into long, thin strands and patches. After reducing the sleeves of his black button up to nonexistence, he takes a few, deep breaths. Calming his nerves, he pulls the first nail from his right forearm, hissing even with the gentlest of touches. FFFUCK! He mentally screamed vulgarities so that his voice would not alert any nearby Prime of his presence.
He placed a folded patch over the hole in his flesh, then wrapped a scrap of cloth around it. Neal repeated this process thrice more to have his arms free of the projectiles. I was lucky, he reminded himself. Just my limbs... No headshots, no punctured organs. All in all, they were very minor.
His legs were not as bad, the Wartortle had clipped his left calf twice during the escape, but that was it. His right, dominant, leg was unharmed. That meant if nothing else he could still jump, even though throwing a punch was not going to be a pleasant experience. "That damn turtle's going down. I'm NOT going to lose to a MIDDLE Evolution. I'm at LEAST an Alakazam! If NOT a Mew-fucking-two!" He reassured himself.
Neal stares off towards the diner in the distance. Go back and lose, or run and try to survive for another day? The question came with the need for strategy for both answers. Especially if he wanted the wishful third option. Stomp that koopa-bitch...But how? Strategy time.
Wartortle has the firepower advantage, but he doesn't have penetration through wood... He's water type... Maybe I could rip some wires out of the wall... No, I need to get that nailgun first. Neal mentally went over the resources he had on hand. Water, food, compass, map and... UNO cards. I swear, if I win, I'm going to start nailing those bastards to everyone.
ANYWAY, back on topic... Plan A: Neal closes his eye, remembering the diner as best as he could, in every detail. Take up a table as a shield and rush him like a battering ram... One of the small round tables should let me still jump and dodge. Unless the Danteverse removed his newfound acrobatic ability, which would piss him off even more. I can't rely on any spectacular TK, his fingers touched the collar around his neck. I'll just try to pull the gun from the turtle's hand, or knock it away. Screw up his aim to get in close...
Plan B: Berserk. Plenty of tables and chairs to throw. Aim for the head, maybe it'll retreat into its shell... then, I just take the gun it dropped, shoot it in the head and nail a card to it's shell. Joker style. Both plans seemed decently solid. Plan B sounded just as formidable, if not more likely, than plan A.
First, though, Neal had to make sure his Telekinesis even still worked. At first, he held up a finger-gun and dropped his thumb. Nothing, no Mind Bullet, no 'thoom!' nothing. Advanced telekinesis was out, as he expected. So instead, he reaches out with the same hand and clinched his fist. Pulling it back, he focused on exerting his force onto a branch, which pulled back in time with his hand. Very basic. It's no wander my Gambit gambit didn't work out too well.
There was just one more thing he needed to get out of the way. More accurately, two questions. Can I truly kill someone? .... They should respawn, just like I would. It won't be permanent. They signed up for this, just as I did. It's just a game... it's all a game. He repeated his mantra to himself. It set in fast, renewing his confidence. "And... what if I fail? I doubt I can escape so lucky this time." That one was more serious.
Am I willing to risk losing the game just to get even? What are the risks? The rewards? That one took a moment to fully calculate. Risks: I lose and die. I'd respawn anyway. Or I manage to escape or even win, in worse shape... making the rest of the competition even harder... No for Rewards: A better weapon for future fights. A base with possible supplies and better defensive opportunities than a tree...
What if I leave? I have a high chance of finding another competitor, in a strange environment, with an unknown weapon... or a better location that is uninhabited. Neal shook his head, sighing. No, any marked location on the map is ripe picking. I have the advantage of intelligence here.
It was settled. Neal dropped from the tree, landing with his weight primarily on his good leg. Deep breaths kept his mind clear as he walked towards the diner's back, ready to try again. Maybe I'll just throw the water-type into a light. Game over right there. Neal grinned at the thought of frying the Wartortle. Then nail a blue Skip card to his head.
He hung his long coat upon a branch in the tree he had taken refuge in, and stripped his shirt. Literally. He started with the sleeves, ripping the cloth into long, thin strands and patches. After reducing the sleeves of his black button up to nonexistence, he takes a few, deep breaths. Calming his nerves, he pulls the first nail from his right forearm, hissing even with the gentlest of touches. FFFUCK! He mentally screamed vulgarities so that his voice would not alert any nearby Prime of his presence.
He placed a folded patch over the hole in his flesh, then wrapped a scrap of cloth around it. Neal repeated this process thrice more to have his arms free of the projectiles. I was lucky, he reminded himself. Just my limbs... No headshots, no punctured organs. All in all, they were very minor.
His legs were not as bad, the Wartortle had clipped his left calf twice during the escape, but that was it. His right, dominant, leg was unharmed. That meant if nothing else he could still jump, even though throwing a punch was not going to be a pleasant experience. "That damn turtle's going down. I'm NOT going to lose to a MIDDLE Evolution. I'm at LEAST an Alakazam! If NOT a Mew-fucking-two!" He reassured himself.
Neal stares off towards the diner in the distance. Go back and lose, or run and try to survive for another day? The question came with the need for strategy for both answers. Especially if he wanted the wishful third option. Stomp that koopa-bitch...But how? Strategy time.
Wartortle has the firepower advantage, but he doesn't have penetration through wood... He's water type... Maybe I could rip some wires out of the wall... No, I need to get that nailgun first. Neal mentally went over the resources he had on hand. Water, food, compass, map and... UNO cards. I swear, if I win, I'm going to start nailing those bastards to everyone.
ANYWAY, back on topic... Plan A: Neal closes his eye, remembering the diner as best as he could, in every detail. Take up a table as a shield and rush him like a battering ram... One of the small round tables should let me still jump and dodge. Unless the Danteverse removed his newfound acrobatic ability, which would piss him off even more. I can't rely on any spectacular TK, his fingers touched the collar around his neck. I'll just try to pull the gun from the turtle's hand, or knock it away. Screw up his aim to get in close...
Plan B: Berserk. Plenty of tables and chairs to throw. Aim for the head, maybe it'll retreat into its shell... then, I just take the gun it dropped, shoot it in the head and nail a card to it's shell. Joker style. Both plans seemed decently solid. Plan B sounded just as formidable, if not more likely, than plan A.
First, though, Neal had to make sure his Telekinesis even still worked. At first, he held up a finger-gun and dropped his thumb. Nothing, no Mind Bullet, no 'thoom!' nothing. Advanced telekinesis was out, as he expected. So instead, he reaches out with the same hand and clinched his fist. Pulling it back, he focused on exerting his force onto a branch, which pulled back in time with his hand. Very basic. It's no wander my Gambit gambit didn't work out too well.
There was just one more thing he needed to get out of the way. More accurately, two questions. Can I truly kill someone? .... They should respawn, just like I would. It won't be permanent. They signed up for this, just as I did. It's just a game... it's all a game. He repeated his mantra to himself. It set in fast, renewing his confidence. "And... what if I fail? I doubt I can escape so lucky this time." That one was more serious.
Am I willing to risk losing the game just to get even? What are the risks? The rewards? That one took a moment to fully calculate. Risks: I lose and die. I'd respawn anyway. Or I manage to escape or even win, in worse shape... making the rest of the competition even harder... No for Rewards: A better weapon for future fights. A base with possible supplies and better defensive opportunities than a tree...
What if I leave? I have a high chance of finding another competitor, in a strange environment, with an unknown weapon... or a better location that is uninhabited. Neal shook his head, sighing. No, any marked location on the map is ripe picking. I have the advantage of intelligence here.
It was settled. Neal dropped from the tree, landing with his weight primarily on his good leg. Deep breaths kept his mind clear as he walked towards the diner's back, ready to try again. Maybe I'll just throw the water-type into a light. Game over right there. Neal grinned at the thought of frying the Wartortle. Then nail a blue Skip card to his head.