08-16-2016, 09:35 PM
Deadpool moved like a dancer to avoid the cascade of electrical shots; each round whistled passed him, and exploded into a spectacle of live current as they collided into the wall behind him.
”Would you like me to do the Salsa, to pay homage to your culture?” Deadpool began to shake his hips. He looked towards Hiro, and said, ”I'll make it an Afro-Cuban Salsa, that way I cover your demography too.” With his ass still swung side-to-side, he bent his knees and dipped his booty to the floor (Karl probably stood near the vault, arms folded, spreading a leering grin across his visage).
Hiro slapped his face with an open hand. “You let her get away again.”
”Relax, Virgil Hawkins,” the mercenary replied. He glanced at the Furby dangling from his waist, then looked over the line of obstructing cubicles and raised his voice: ”This things got enough punch behind it to turn her hot animorph body into charred rodent meat.”
The hacker's eyes turned to golfballs. “No, you can't be that crazy—that would collapse the building!”
”Oh yeah I am.” He turned to Karl, who leaned against the vault with his arms folded and legs crossed. ”As long as papichulo over there gives me his blessing.”
Karl snickered. “I don't care either way, just make it quick.” His finger pointed at the ceiling—a web of cracks branched across it, sprinkling dust into the basement. “This building is coming down, bomb or no bomb.”
”Hear that, Jennifer Lopez? No more taco-flavored kisses for you, honey.”
His eye caught a silhouette scampering along the back-wall. It misshaped over the ridges of the stairs, then bobbled to the other side of the room, disappearing under a mound of debris.
The bluff had worked; a grin creased Deadpool's mask. People had always called him insane, but he wasn't that crazy—not enough to jeopardize his life while a prize awaited him on the other side of this whacky competition/non-competition rainbow. But the reputation had its advantages, and this was one of them.
”Got you!” he yelled.
He lunged over the pile of mangled chairs and turned over drawers, swinging his sword around to stab at the floor. Carmelita looked up at him with bewildered eyes, but raised her pistol, taking aim. She fired several rounds, all of which struck the mercenary. He flinched, feeling the rippling sensation of electricity strangle the areas he was hit—twice on the bottom of his thigh, and another all too close to the family jewels.
”It's only storyline damage, my dear!” he bellowed, cackling.
The tip of his blade missed the fox, slamming into the floor instead. A piece of concrete chipped into the air. Carmelita had rolled backwards to dodge the attack. Now she rose to her feet, holding her reopened wound. Just what the mercenary anticipated.
Deadpool looked at the fox and winked. ”Got ya.”
He jumped with a leg cocked into the air, spinning his body around like a twirling dreidel. The fox tried to backpedal away, but Hiro had dissected the situation, and flanked her, pinning her between the wall and Deadpool's outstretched foot. She did the only option left—throw her arms in front of her face to absorb the brunt of the hit.
The dull pain of his foot banging against Carmelita's forearms exhilarated him; perhaps, it stemmed from the taboo of abusing an animal, or abusing a woman, or maybe because he managed to do both simultaneously.
His body rotated around a dozen more times before the fox's forearms spread from her face. She grunted like a boxer taking a combination as Deadpool's foot whipped across his cheek twice, thrice.
The powers of TUFTUFTUGEN, courtesy of Ryu and Ken . . . and a couple other characters that were added to later games,” the mercenary said. His body gradually stopped spinning, and he landed on one knee.
She stumbled backwards, hardly keeping her footing. Hiro grabbed her from behind, and pulled her arms into a full-nelson.
“Let go!” she roared; blood slung from her nose as she flailed her legs.
“Last chance, sweetie!” Hiro said.
He struggled to keep her from breaking free, spreading his legs to establish position. The crafty woman saw he opening, and sent a horse kick right into it. The hacker screamed the great joys of incoherent, conjoining curse words. His face turned purple, and he released the fox to grab his genitals.
”Would you like me to do the Salsa, to pay homage to your culture?” Deadpool began to shake his hips. He looked towards Hiro, and said, ”I'll make it an Afro-Cuban Salsa, that way I cover your demography too.” With his ass still swung side-to-side, he bent his knees and dipped his booty to the floor (Karl probably stood near the vault, arms folded, spreading a leering grin across his visage).
Hiro slapped his face with an open hand. “You let her get away again.”
”Relax, Virgil Hawkins,” the mercenary replied. He glanced at the Furby dangling from his waist, then looked over the line of obstructing cubicles and raised his voice: ”This things got enough punch behind it to turn her hot animorph body into charred rodent meat.”
The hacker's eyes turned to golfballs. “No, you can't be that crazy—that would collapse the building!”
”Oh yeah I am.” He turned to Karl, who leaned against the vault with his arms folded and legs crossed. ”As long as papichulo over there gives me his blessing.”
Karl snickered. “I don't care either way, just make it quick.” His finger pointed at the ceiling—a web of cracks branched across it, sprinkling dust into the basement. “This building is coming down, bomb or no bomb.”
”Hear that, Jennifer Lopez? No more taco-flavored kisses for you, honey.”
His eye caught a silhouette scampering along the back-wall. It misshaped over the ridges of the stairs, then bobbled to the other side of the room, disappearing under a mound of debris.
The bluff had worked; a grin creased Deadpool's mask. People had always called him insane, but he wasn't that crazy—not enough to jeopardize his life while a prize awaited him on the other side of this whacky competition/non-competition rainbow. But the reputation had its advantages, and this was one of them.
”Got you!” he yelled.
He lunged over the pile of mangled chairs and turned over drawers, swinging his sword around to stab at the floor. Carmelita looked up at him with bewildered eyes, but raised her pistol, taking aim. She fired several rounds, all of which struck the mercenary. He flinched, feeling the rippling sensation of electricity strangle the areas he was hit—twice on the bottom of his thigh, and another all too close to the family jewels.
”It's only storyline damage, my dear!” he bellowed, cackling.
The tip of his blade missed the fox, slamming into the floor instead. A piece of concrete chipped into the air. Carmelita had rolled backwards to dodge the attack. Now she rose to her feet, holding her reopened wound. Just what the mercenary anticipated.
Deadpool looked at the fox and winked. ”Got ya.”
He jumped with a leg cocked into the air, spinning his body around like a twirling dreidel. The fox tried to backpedal away, but Hiro had dissected the situation, and flanked her, pinning her between the wall and Deadpool's outstretched foot. She did the only option left—throw her arms in front of her face to absorb the brunt of the hit.
The dull pain of his foot banging against Carmelita's forearms exhilarated him; perhaps, it stemmed from the taboo of abusing an animal, or abusing a woman, or maybe because he managed to do both simultaneously.
His body rotated around a dozen more times before the fox's forearms spread from her face. She grunted like a boxer taking a combination as Deadpool's foot whipped across his cheek twice, thrice.
The powers of TUFTUFTUGEN, courtesy of Ryu and Ken . . . and a couple other characters that were added to later games,” the mercenary said. His body gradually stopped spinning, and he landed on one knee.
She stumbled backwards, hardly keeping her footing. Hiro grabbed her from behind, and pulled her arms into a full-nelson.
“Let go!” she roared; blood slung from her nose as she flailed her legs.
“Last chance, sweetie!” Hiro said.
He struggled to keep her from breaking free, spreading his legs to establish position. The crafty woman saw he opening, and sent a horse kick right into it. The hacker screamed the great joys of incoherent, conjoining curse words. His face turned purple, and he released the fox to grab his genitals.
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![[Image: Deadpool_Funny.png]](http://i137.photobucket.com/albums/q218/Aerogfx/sigs/Deadpool_Funny.png)
Dante's Abyss Placings
2015 - 4th
2015 - 4th
2016 - 2nd
2017 - 4th
PVP Combat Record
(One-on-One)
3W - 0L - 0D
3W - 0L - 0D
(TAG-TEAM)
1W - 1L - 0D
[/float]![[Image: Deadpool_Funny.png]](http://s137.photobucket.com/user/Aerogfx/media/sigs/Deadpool_Funny.png.html)