11-01-2015, 02:39 AM
With Dante's one free arm now barely holding him away from the abyss of pestilence, the one thought that came to mind was, "That was an embarrassing mistake." Returning his trusty greatsword to it's place behind his back, the devil hunter paid attention to the space above him; his newly empty hand fell below his waistline in anticipation.
In the moment of respite gained from his sudden reversal, the blitzballer picked himself up. No longer about to die, and with air back in his lungs proper, Wakka's scarlet plume of hair whipped about several times as he searched for his ball. A lump very quickly rose in his throat when he realized it could've fallen away, but the athlete was more relieved to find it at the opposite end of the metal diamond he stood on. Behind his vision, however, the red-coat man was grunting, in some effort to pull himself up.
Wakka had to think fast. His blitzball wasn't proving as effects as he had hoped this time, and though he worked with it best, the athlete was left with little other fighting options - besides those at his belt. No, he had to end this fight now, even if the implication was. He turned back, and stepped up to the edge Dante hung over.
Before he could even dare to kick the man away and into the pit of roiling toxin, however, the shine of gunmetal met Wakka's eyes and they went open wide. The nephilim didn't even crack a one-liner, simply sporting a fittingly demonic grin. The blitzballer let loose some guttural expression of panic, and immediately dived back as Dante pulled the trigger.
A projectile narrowly split through Wakka's hairdo, followed by several oppressive shots that kept the Besaid man scrambling back. Satisfied with the results, Dante planted both arms on the ledge and pulled himself up with a stylish somersault. The fantastic comeback was met with Wakka winding up another throw with the sport ball. Surely, Dante couldn't counter it at this range - but he did, sniping the orb right out of the athlete's grip with a deftly-placed bullet.
The lump in Wakka's throat instantly migrated to his heart. Left toppling on his misplaced center of gravity, he paddled through the air in panic to reclaim his footing- physics soon claimed him, however, and the poor man began to drop. In a final act of desperation, Wakka used what footing he had left and kicked off the surface in a backwards leap of ill faith.
He had just about surrendered to the untimely fate when his back painfully slammed on a cold steel plate, painfully crushing the breath in his chest. Wakka sighed, and he wasn't sure it was for relief. Being alive was nice, but he was also losing, and had most certainly lost his blitzball now. What was he to do? Forcing himself up again, Wakka glanced around on the platform he had landed on: small and circular, but large enough to hold him and- a freaking artillery cannon.
No, this isn't a dependence, the ex-Yevoner insisted for himself, this is emergency. I just need this now; just now-
In other news, Dante found himself just about to plant a foot up his own ass. Albeit inadvertently, he had knocked this otherwise fairly chill guy (from what Dante guessed) into a horrific void of venomous slog- and that wasn't the kind of thing he would wish on most anyone. It occurred to the devil hunter than this whole arena, actually, was supposed to represent the industrial nightmare of Coruscant; but Dante couldn't blame the Empire for this, right here. They didn't make this arena, some madman here did, and with the intent of brutal death.
The devil hunter paced up to the edge where Wakka topped over, and suddenly it was his turn to be caught off-guard. A futuristic weapons battery wasn't exactly was Dante was expecting or looking for, but it was there, and the blitzballer was behind it.
With the shoe most definitely on the other foot now, Dante could only reply, "Touché."
He turned tail, sprinting away from the ensuing giant rays of green-flavored annihilation. Beneath his boots, the iron island was easily razed apart by the onslaught of the Empire's advanced weaponry, and Dante leaped for his life. In the whipping wind came the cry of the bloodthirsty crowd, the scream of the powerful lasers, and the yell of an over-hyped Wakka.
Now this is getting crazy!
In the moment of respite gained from his sudden reversal, the blitzballer picked himself up. No longer about to die, and with air back in his lungs proper, Wakka's scarlet plume of hair whipped about several times as he searched for his ball. A lump very quickly rose in his throat when he realized it could've fallen away, but the athlete was more relieved to find it at the opposite end of the metal diamond he stood on. Behind his vision, however, the red-coat man was grunting, in some effort to pull himself up.
Wakka had to think fast. His blitzball wasn't proving as effects as he had hoped this time, and though he worked with it best, the athlete was left with little other fighting options - besides those at his belt. No, he had to end this fight now, even if the implication was. He turned back, and stepped up to the edge Dante hung over.
Before he could even dare to kick the man away and into the pit of roiling toxin, however, the shine of gunmetal met Wakka's eyes and they went open wide. The nephilim didn't even crack a one-liner, simply sporting a fittingly demonic grin. The blitzballer let loose some guttural expression of panic, and immediately dived back as Dante pulled the trigger.
A projectile narrowly split through Wakka's hairdo, followed by several oppressive shots that kept the Besaid man scrambling back. Satisfied with the results, Dante planted both arms on the ledge and pulled himself up with a stylish somersault. The fantastic comeback was met with Wakka winding up another throw with the sport ball. Surely, Dante couldn't counter it at this range - but he did, sniping the orb right out of the athlete's grip with a deftly-placed bullet.
The lump in Wakka's throat instantly migrated to his heart. Left toppling on his misplaced center of gravity, he paddled through the air in panic to reclaim his footing- physics soon claimed him, however, and the poor man began to drop. In a final act of desperation, Wakka used what footing he had left and kicked off the surface in a backwards leap of ill faith.
He had just about surrendered to the untimely fate when his back painfully slammed on a cold steel plate, painfully crushing the breath in his chest. Wakka sighed, and he wasn't sure it was for relief. Being alive was nice, but he was also losing, and had most certainly lost his blitzball now. What was he to do? Forcing himself up again, Wakka glanced around on the platform he had landed on: small and circular, but large enough to hold him and- a freaking artillery cannon.
No, this isn't a dependence, the ex-Yevoner insisted for himself, this is emergency. I just need this now; just now-
In other news, Dante found himself just about to plant a foot up his own ass. Albeit inadvertently, he had knocked this otherwise fairly chill guy (from what Dante guessed) into a horrific void of venomous slog- and that wasn't the kind of thing he would wish on most anyone. It occurred to the devil hunter than this whole arena, actually, was supposed to represent the industrial nightmare of Coruscant; but Dante couldn't blame the Empire for this, right here. They didn't make this arena, some madman here did, and with the intent of brutal death.
The devil hunter paced up to the edge where Wakka topped over, and suddenly it was his turn to be caught off-guard. A futuristic weapons battery wasn't exactly was Dante was expecting or looking for, but it was there, and the blitzballer was behind it.
With the shoe most definitely on the other foot now, Dante could only reply, "Touché."
He turned tail, sprinting away from the ensuing giant rays of green-flavored annihilation. Beneath his boots, the iron island was easily razed apart by the onslaught of the Empire's advanced weaponry, and Dante leaped for his life. In the whipping wind came the cry of the bloodthirsty crowd, the scream of the powerful lasers, and the yell of an over-hyped Wakka.
Now this is getting crazy!
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