[Round 1] Erik Vrell & Deadpool vs Dave Strider and Kenpachi

[Deadpool]

Deadpool glanced down at the fresh laceration in his suit, and scowled. ”You fuck! After I win this tournament, you’ll be receiving my tailor’s bill! / . . . but until then--” the mercenary interrupted himself with a crisp overhand to Dave’s face, flattening the boy’s nose ”--pay your tab with a smashed grill!”

Dave staggered backwards, blood shooting from his nostrils. His turntables shattered from his lack of concentration, as he covered his face with his hands, squealing like a startled pig.  

”I see that your strength and speed have improved dramatically / but you still perform your moves haphazardly,” The mercenary spat, taking notice of Dave’s heightened powers, but also identifying his flaws--”gotta love Insight.”

Deadpool charged forward, not allowing his opponent time to recover from his last blow, or sick rhyme. He tossed his broken katana outside of the ring, and clenched the good one with both hands, flipping the edge reverse before arching it over his head to club Dave’s skull. The dull sound of steel against bone echoed throughout the vacant arena like a banged bongo in an empty hippodrome. Dave collapsed; his knees slammed into the monolithic square under him with a thud; those cool sunglasses he wore fell from his face, revealing blank eyes and twitching brows.

”That’s the thing about boosting your speed,” Deadpool began to rhyme, while retracting his katana. A creek of crimson flowed down Dave’s head, cutting between his eyebrows, before forking to the left side of his now crooked nose. ”You may be hard to hit, but when your defense is still shit, one good shot is all a prime might need.”

As the mercenary sheathed his blade, Erik’s fight grabbed his attention. His partner was a skilled psychic (or whatever the fuck his craft fell under), and respectable fighter, but found himself in a war with a battle-thirsty psychopath, who only appeared to become increasingly enthralled by every infliction handed to him. Each time Erik’s sword managed to slither past Kenpachi’s guard, the towering man would initially grunt, but then cackle, as if pain triggered some sort of underlying sexual arousal.

The might Kenpachi displayed stood beyond the capacity of a new Prime, and the conviction of his temperment couldn’t have been portrayed so immaculately by a novice narrator.

Somebody swapped characters, Deadpool deduced. Then his eyes widened with a mixture of anxiety and delight. He tried to quell his next thought, but failed: Holy shit, Baron drew Mark in the first round.

He surveyed Kenpachi more intently, examining his raw power; a lot of strength mixed with a lot of defense established the samurai as someone who could fight for days (nights, and paid holidays) before succumbing to fatigue. His brute nature was built to deal with primes that delved into solidifying their crafts--primes like Erik.  
Deadpool had to intervene. It bettered his chances of winning, and added to the lore of Dante’s Abyss.

”Sorry Lil’ DJ, but the rave is over,” the mercenary muttered as he turned his attention back to the half-conscious teenager, who still knelt, collecting his thoughts and energy (and probably struggling to remember his name, date of birth, and address, as well). ”Perhaps I’ll see you in a club someday, snorting cocaine from some strippers asscrack, while one of your duplicates brings down the house with an all-time great playlist. . . I’d like that.”

Aiming for the neck, Deadpool pivoted around and struck the boy with a turning roundhouse kick. Dave skipped between the stage’s tiles like a person ejected from a high speed vehicle collision, his body somersaulting wildly, arms and legs flapping in every direction.

”Don’t land on a crack, or you’ll break your momma’s back!” the mercenary shouted, palms curled around his mouth. Then his mask molded a grin. ”Now if you’d excuse me, your friendly neighborhood merc’ with a mouth has a date with a familiar, yet not so familiar, old buddy . . . yeah, it’s complicated.”

He turned towards Kenpachi and Erik. They still fought in the distance, clashing swords and parrying attacks. Kenpachi now began to take advantage of his lanky frame, eating space. Erik had no choice but to relinquish ground, until all that remained was the corner of the stage.

”We should probably attack now--we’re running out of words, and our partner is running out of places to plant his feet. If not, we lose--no championship, no finale, no goddamn action figure royalty check!”

Deadpool whipped out both pistols--”there we go, that’s more like it!”--, making sure to switch their fire rates to burst-fire. He raised them at Kenpachi, took aim, and then sprayed a cascade of lead towards the samurai. Brass shell casings dispensed from his guns faster than coins shooting from a broken slot machine.

WC: 848 (Google Docs)

Deadpool activated his T1 power-up (+2/+1/+0/+2 ~ 3/6/3/6) in response to Dave's
Deadpool used Insight a few times
Deadpool momentarily knocks Dave unconscious to say hi to Mark and get a little 2v1 action in on Kenpachi