Colosseum - Round 2 - Okor vs Monkey D Luffy

[Okor]

”No.” Came the septic snarl from the scarred visage of the ancient warrior. His rotten twin hearts hammered in his decrepit, dented chest, reaching a frequency as high as a beat every other second. He raised the corroded mass of his bolter, and it spat death, barking a finality to the seemingly eternally vigorous youth. The coming storm of fists ceased as suddenly as it was summoned, a bloody tunnel carved into Luffy’s abdomen. Obsidian-pupiled eyes looked up at the indomitable titan questioningly for a brief moment, as a hand went to clutch at the wound. It was decidedly a mistake, as the shell detonated within the pirate’s innards, unleashing a spray of gore and mutilating the hand that sought to delay the grand inevitability. The audience cried out, exultation at bloodlust tinging their cries of despair. Their champion had fallen. Weak, bandy legs advanced forward, a heroic spirit propelling Mugiwara forward. A once-exuberant face was set into a mask of agony and failure, desperately trying to find the strength to take one more step. ”Tell your.. peers that your reign ends. Your works shall crumble, and your… dreams shall turn to ashes in your mouth. The stasis ends. Death begins.” He raised the simple, stubby form of his pistol, leveling its open barrel at the face of his defeated opponent. ”And you are granted the honour of the first… to fall.” Dramatic convention demanded that this would be when the click of a safety pierced the silence. Unfortunately, such a device was deemed largely superficial millennia ago, and was removed from the corroded bulk of his weapon.

It fired a single shell, screaming through the silence as it detonated against the youth’s face, engulfing what little life remained in searing phosphex, rubbery flesh melting from a blackening skull, the grin that once adorned the pirate’s face reborn in the green flames consuming him. With a dull thump, the ravaged corpse fell to the ground, rebounding slightly, a hollow reminder of the rubbery gladiator’s powers. Heavy steps brought the last killer standing to the remains of his foe. A lone claw reached down, plucking a vulcanized skull from the remnants of what was once an insurmountable obstacle. His infernal hat was only scorched from the encounter, a lone fragment of shrapnel embedded in the weave. ”Alas, poor.... Pirate, I knew him hardly. A whelp of ill-timed jest and infinite strength. And in the end, carrion.” Mused the postmortem marauder, a hacking cough stopping the start of his laughter. Carrying his trophies with him, he began to shamble off of the platform, a wide grin spreading across his face. Was this what the Slaaneshi felt? The razor’s edge between life and death, the borderline addictive thrill of dancing so dearly with death. The damnable crutch of Omnillium flowed through his veins, calling out to the strength-steeped skull he had taken.

I’ll have to do this again sometime. He thought, as he left the jeering crowd behind him, the broken and mutilated corpse of the hero cast aside on the cold steel of the platforms. The Banner of Diablo’s Legion fluttered over it, the daemonic sigil emblazoned upon it watching over the scene of carnage left behind.