11-05-2015, 03:37 AM
To hell with it, even Dante would admit that was a damn lucky shot- especially so when considering that the devil hunter's paw skill had been dampened by his entrance to the Omniverse. Still, taking the brunt of an explosion like that looked terribly painful to such an otherwise plain individual as Wakka. Dante's pistol arm returned the weapon to its holster, partially contemplating how he was going to win this match without actually killing the guy.
How faithless.
That... it couldn't have been the nephilim's inner voice. Or rather, the voice that actually reflected his being.
What do you mean? I am a perfect reflection of you... boy.
Really not the best time, Dante lamented angrily. Of course, there had to be a reason he was starting to enjoy the Colosseum, a conglomeration of powerful fighters beating each other to a pulp with little restraint. The 'dynamite kid' had synced with the half-devil so well in their determination and imperfections; before Dante now lay just an athlete with his favorite ball. His disposition turned grim, Dante started his next beeline across the platforms to Wakka.
Not gonna kill him, the nephilim chanted the mantra in his mind, more in defiance than reassurance. Exactly how was Dante going to not murder this man when he was halfway there already and still refusing to use nothing more than a sport ball as a weapon?
No, wait, that was a good point. Actually defeating Wakka, have him lose the match by being unable to fight. Then, it was time to prove if the athlete truly poured all his faith into his blitzball...
As Dante rolled the idea over in his brain, the Besaid man painfully staggered onto the platform where his weapon laid. With a heave of his burning muscles, he leaned over to reclaim the ball, turning to face his approaching opponent. With a new note of determination sparking in his voice, Dante taunted, "Still trying to use a ball as a weapon? Dude, you could at least slap some spikes on it."
"It ain't broke, don't fix it, ya?" Wakka retorted, lurching back with his arm ready to catapult the ball into his foe. As the devil hunter made no immediate effort to counter-attack, he seized the moment and hurled the sphere with as much vigor as his battered body could yet summon. Ever the one to shake things things up, Dante received the blow head-on - or chest-on, as it were. He only recoiled back to dampen the shock (so that not all of his own ribs would break), but it was still quite clear the intention: catch the ball.
For a moment, Wakka's eyes widened at the prospect of what might ensure. With Dante's signature grin smacked right back on his face, both fighters squared off as the half-devil began twirling the blitzball in his hands. "Well, if you're so sure..." The cocky fighter mocked, sarcasm gilding his tone, "Let's see you prove it, eh?"
One could practically see the hesitation radiating from Wakka's posture. Any other day, the athlete would gladly accept such a challenge, but within the Colosseum proved neither the best place nor time. Lungs straining against their broken cage, he took a gulp of air and then released it, gritting through the unbearable burning pain in his lower body. Wakka wasn't even sure if he could kick the ball proper with those scorched legs, but the Aurochs would be damned if he didn't try.
"Gimme ya best shot," the blitzballer fought back verbally, determined not to be put down so easy with what was on the line. Compliant to the challenge, Dante let the ball fall into one hand, then flung it into the air. A violent skyward flip followed it, as the nephilim lined up a powerful roundhouse to put the orb Wakka's way.
Now, this might turn out awesome- unless his ball skills, too, were dampened by the Omniverse. Oh well, only one way to find out now.
How faithless.
That... it couldn't have been the nephilim's inner voice. Or rather, the voice that actually reflected his being.
What do you mean? I am a perfect reflection of you... boy.
Really not the best time, Dante lamented angrily. Of course, there had to be a reason he was starting to enjoy the Colosseum, a conglomeration of powerful fighters beating each other to a pulp with little restraint. The 'dynamite kid' had synced with the half-devil so well in their determination and imperfections; before Dante now lay just an athlete with his favorite ball. His disposition turned grim, Dante started his next beeline across the platforms to Wakka.
Not gonna kill him, the nephilim chanted the mantra in his mind, more in defiance than reassurance. Exactly how was Dante going to not murder this man when he was halfway there already and still refusing to use nothing more than a sport ball as a weapon?
No, wait, that was a good point. Actually defeating Wakka, have him lose the match by being unable to fight. Then, it was time to prove if the athlete truly poured all his faith into his blitzball...
As Dante rolled the idea over in his brain, the Besaid man painfully staggered onto the platform where his weapon laid. With a heave of his burning muscles, he leaned over to reclaim the ball, turning to face his approaching opponent. With a new note of determination sparking in his voice, Dante taunted, "Still trying to use a ball as a weapon? Dude, you could at least slap some spikes on it."
"It ain't broke, don't fix it, ya?" Wakka retorted, lurching back with his arm ready to catapult the ball into his foe. As the devil hunter made no immediate effort to counter-attack, he seized the moment and hurled the sphere with as much vigor as his battered body could yet summon. Ever the one to shake things things up, Dante received the blow head-on - or chest-on, as it were. He only recoiled back to dampen the shock (so that not all of his own ribs would break), but it was still quite clear the intention: catch the ball.
For a moment, Wakka's eyes widened at the prospect of what might ensure. With Dante's signature grin smacked right back on his face, both fighters squared off as the half-devil began twirling the blitzball in his hands. "Well, if you're so sure..." The cocky fighter mocked, sarcasm gilding his tone, "Let's see you prove it, eh?"
One could practically see the hesitation radiating from Wakka's posture. Any other day, the athlete would gladly accept such a challenge, but within the Colosseum proved neither the best place nor time. Lungs straining against their broken cage, he took a gulp of air and then released it, gritting through the unbearable burning pain in his lower body. Wakka wasn't even sure if he could kick the ball proper with those scorched legs, but the Aurochs would be damned if he didn't try.
"Gimme ya best shot," the blitzballer fought back verbally, determined not to be put down so easy with what was on the line. Compliant to the challenge, Dante let the ball fall into one hand, then flung it into the air. A violent skyward flip followed it, as the nephilim lined up a powerful roundhouse to put the orb Wakka's way.
Now, this might turn out awesome- unless his ball skills, too, were dampened by the Omniverse. Oh well, only one way to find out now.