02-24-2017, 11:46 PM
Only a brief, terse moment passed between the three versus the one, before the battle began. The Heel Navi at the door, boot-prints laced across his metallic guise, rushed forward with angry red claws generated from his hands. The attack was met from the opposite side from the leader, his energy-cast blade clashing against the furious mitt with a splash of plasmic sparks. Having deftly rolled out of the way, Dante crossed Ebony and Ivory sideways and pumped a small hail of bullet into the pair. Holes punched open on the pair, blips of odd black substances dripping out but provoking no pained reaction from either machine.
The third Navi held its ground and reached out, the arm on display distorting with packet flashes and raw data made manifest. From the forearm down, the metal broke down on a minuscule level to be digitally rearranged into the barrel of an imposing cannon within moments. With the pull of some invisible trigger, the darkling's weapon violently discharged a roaring blast in Dante's direction- however, the devil hunter already could be found leaping up in evasion. The window-shattering impact of the projectile erupting while he remained in hang-time, flak and glass dispersing ineffectually through the room.
Dante quickly righted his flipping jump and came down hard with Rebellion, swinging a deadly overhead cut that very nearly split the corrupt program's steel skull. The spindly body buckled under the force of the blow, mashing the Navi's head between the cracking floor and the harsh edge of Dante's blade.
The casing from the artillery-grade cannon shell hit the ground, and the violet Darkling lashed out again. The energy weapon projected itself in size, wildly spewing untamed plasma as it grew to the proportions of Rebellion. The two swords met each other for just a moment, with Dante's superior strength deflecting the swing. The other Heel Navi covered the ensuing exposure, but the devil hunter and his demonic sword held fast against the wild repeating strikes of the deranged robot.
The son of Sparda smirked, a short breath snorting from his nostrils. This lot still couldn't manage to be more than fodder.
As the machine wound up another swing, Dante threw the thing off-balance with a boot to the chest, leaning forward and leveraging it into a vertical kick. With another footprint added to the budding repertoire, the Navi flew back, away from the back-flipping form of the devil hunter and over the evasive movements of his commander.
The leading Darkling cycled through his chips to switch up the pace, but Dante had his own change in mind. He planted a silenting heel on the floored Navi, then kicked off with the other foot, surfing the body over the scuffed plank floor. The startled machine didn't have time to attack proper as the red-coat ducked forward under its rapidly-forming spearhead. With the second minion recoiling from his impact on the far wall, Dante kick-flipped off the screeching iron body board. Both of the Darklings crashed together, the dented spike-head grinding into the scuffed torso as the momentum send them both into the corner of the lobby in a heap.
A whoop of delight escaped the son of Sparda as he landed on the trail of wood tarnish wood he had formed, followed by a taunting laugh as he straightened out. "Get outta here!" He taunted, waving off the dummy machines with one arm and sheathing Rebellion behind his back with the other.
With a whir and a stomp, the leader behind Dante's view whirled around to drive home one of his his newly spiraled drill arms. The red-coat remained one step ahead, overhearing the obvious noises of the incoming attack and sidestepping the charging blow. A second drill launched an upward stab for the ribs, but this too was avoided with rapid reflexes. The Heel Navi lurched into a messy assault of flying jabs, which Dante humored with cool-headed dodges. That is, until the seventh attack or so, where he deliberately parried the incoming industrial tool with a flash of crimson-veined gauntlets and a determined glare.
Gilgamesh's fists found much more purchase than the Navi could've hoped for, devil-steel knuckles crunching into the inferior infected metal. A single punch dented the flat-headed program and crushed one vision sensor until the tinkle of glass. A following punch rolled into the robot's undercarriage, between the violet plates of its shell, and ground into the skeletal wiring within. Dante relented with his arms, placing weight and direction on his forward foot; in this stance, he spun around and delivered a buzzsaw-laced roundhouse across the bulky breastplate of the shocked Navi.
As the Darkling staggered back to the tune of groaning machinations and dissipating data, Dante landed in a bouncing stance. Credit where due, these mindless drones at least knew how to take a hit or several. With this in mind, the son of Sparda found himself quite fortunate his summoning spree included amassing a fair bit more firepower for himself. Reaching under his coat, Gilgamesh's hands grasped around the grip of his shotgun, yanking the firearm free.
With a pull of the trigger, the Terminator's extreme report annihilated the Darkling leader's torso. The shrill sound of shrapnel tearing apart the metallic armor filled the shop, alongside the scattering pieces of the Navi's upper half. It would've fallen to the floor, had the force from the shotgun not propelled the deserving bastard into the right-hand wall under the stairs. Dante pulled off another sweet-ass spinning reload of the shotgun, spinning about on his heels to meet the two remaining bastards. The sound of two agonizing robots pulling each-other apart finally came to a closing, replaced by a faint whirr of something outside - and then the bark of a 10-gauge shell.
Having gone through enough punishment already, the roughed-up punk head of the Heel Navi practically exploded, creating a fireworks display of metal fragmentation and disgusting ichor. Hardly fettered by even its own bleeding heart-core, the robot shoved aside the fresh carcass of its fellow brainless ally and stepped forward, one foot at a time. The particles of data projecting from his hand began to assemble into a pick axe, moaning on like an unstoppable murderer in the face of a reloading shotgun.
There was a certain amount of irony to it, Dante would realize later.
Before either of them could act, that whir grew into a dull roar, then into a sputtering growl. The windows of the shop suddenly began to shine light into the desolated room, blocking out the darkness that had hung over the shop for the entire time so far. That damned noise became all too tell-tale for Dante, and he began to preemptively wonder why this sort of stuff kept happening to him and his shop.
He only had mere moments to do so, before the power of 400 horses and industrial framework tore through the prohibition-grade construction of the shop.
The unmarked gray van barreled through the double doors, bursting through the frame and slamming grille-first into the back wall with a devastating crash. The scorching tires ground down to a stop, adding to the mess of destructive tracks on the creaking wooden floor. It would be safe to say that, with the smoldering engine crushed between the flattened corpse of a Heel Navi and halfway through a plastered wall, this van wouldn't be going anywhere else on its own. Not that the Nebula-converted driver would care, considering that his face was now painted all over what was left of both the wall and the windshield before it.
The third Navi held its ground and reached out, the arm on display distorting with packet flashes and raw data made manifest. From the forearm down, the metal broke down on a minuscule level to be digitally rearranged into the barrel of an imposing cannon within moments. With the pull of some invisible trigger, the darkling's weapon violently discharged a roaring blast in Dante's direction- however, the devil hunter already could be found leaping up in evasion. The window-shattering impact of the projectile erupting while he remained in hang-time, flak and glass dispersing ineffectually through the room.
Dante quickly righted his flipping jump and came down hard with Rebellion, swinging a deadly overhead cut that very nearly split the corrupt program's steel skull. The spindly body buckled under the force of the blow, mashing the Navi's head between the cracking floor and the harsh edge of Dante's blade.
The casing from the artillery-grade cannon shell hit the ground, and the violet Darkling lashed out again. The energy weapon projected itself in size, wildly spewing untamed plasma as it grew to the proportions of Rebellion. The two swords met each other for just a moment, with Dante's superior strength deflecting the swing. The other Heel Navi covered the ensuing exposure, but the devil hunter and his demonic sword held fast against the wild repeating strikes of the deranged robot.
The son of Sparda smirked, a short breath snorting from his nostrils. This lot still couldn't manage to be more than fodder.
As the machine wound up another swing, Dante threw the thing off-balance with a boot to the chest, leaning forward and leveraging it into a vertical kick. With another footprint added to the budding repertoire, the Navi flew back, away from the back-flipping form of the devil hunter and over the evasive movements of his commander.
The leading Darkling cycled through his chips to switch up the pace, but Dante had his own change in mind. He planted a silenting heel on the floored Navi, then kicked off with the other foot, surfing the body over the scuffed plank floor. The startled machine didn't have time to attack proper as the red-coat ducked forward under its rapidly-forming spearhead. With the second minion recoiling from his impact on the far wall, Dante kick-flipped off the screeching iron body board. Both of the Darklings crashed together, the dented spike-head grinding into the scuffed torso as the momentum send them both into the corner of the lobby in a heap.
A whoop of delight escaped the son of Sparda as he landed on the trail of wood tarnish wood he had formed, followed by a taunting laugh as he straightened out. "Get outta here!" He taunted, waving off the dummy machines with one arm and sheathing Rebellion behind his back with the other.
With a whir and a stomp, the leader behind Dante's view whirled around to drive home one of his his newly spiraled drill arms. The red-coat remained one step ahead, overhearing the obvious noises of the incoming attack and sidestepping the charging blow. A second drill launched an upward stab for the ribs, but this too was avoided with rapid reflexes. The Heel Navi lurched into a messy assault of flying jabs, which Dante humored with cool-headed dodges. That is, until the seventh attack or so, where he deliberately parried the incoming industrial tool with a flash of crimson-veined gauntlets and a determined glare.
Gilgamesh's fists found much more purchase than the Navi could've hoped for, devil-steel knuckles crunching into the inferior infected metal. A single punch dented the flat-headed program and crushed one vision sensor until the tinkle of glass. A following punch rolled into the robot's undercarriage, between the violet plates of its shell, and ground into the skeletal wiring within. Dante relented with his arms, placing weight and direction on his forward foot; in this stance, he spun around and delivered a buzzsaw-laced roundhouse across the bulky breastplate of the shocked Navi.
As the Darkling staggered back to the tune of groaning machinations and dissipating data, Dante landed in a bouncing stance. Credit where due, these mindless drones at least knew how to take a hit or several. With this in mind, the son of Sparda found himself quite fortunate his summoning spree included amassing a fair bit more firepower for himself. Reaching under his coat, Gilgamesh's hands grasped around the grip of his shotgun, yanking the firearm free.
With a pull of the trigger, the Terminator's extreme report annihilated the Darkling leader's torso. The shrill sound of shrapnel tearing apart the metallic armor filled the shop, alongside the scattering pieces of the Navi's upper half. It would've fallen to the floor, had the force from the shotgun not propelled the deserving bastard into the right-hand wall under the stairs. Dante pulled off another sweet-ass spinning reload of the shotgun, spinning about on his heels to meet the two remaining bastards. The sound of two agonizing robots pulling each-other apart finally came to a closing, replaced by a faint whirr of something outside - and then the bark of a 10-gauge shell.
Having gone through enough punishment already, the roughed-up punk head of the Heel Navi practically exploded, creating a fireworks display of metal fragmentation and disgusting ichor. Hardly fettered by even its own bleeding heart-core, the robot shoved aside the fresh carcass of its fellow brainless ally and stepped forward, one foot at a time. The particles of data projecting from his hand began to assemble into a pick axe, moaning on like an unstoppable murderer in the face of a reloading shotgun.
There was a certain amount of irony to it, Dante would realize later.
Before either of them could act, that whir grew into a dull roar, then into a sputtering growl. The windows of the shop suddenly began to shine light into the desolated room, blocking out the darkness that had hung over the shop for the entire time so far. That damned noise became all too tell-tale for Dante, and he began to preemptively wonder why this sort of stuff kept happening to him and his shop.
He only had mere moments to do so, before the power of 400 horses and industrial framework tore through the prohibition-grade construction of the shop.
The unmarked gray van barreled through the double doors, bursting through the frame and slamming grille-first into the back wall with a devastating crash. The scorching tires ground down to a stop, adding to the mess of destructive tracks on the creaking wooden floor. It would be safe to say that, with the smoldering engine crushed between the flattened corpse of a Heel Navi and halfway through a plastered wall, this van wouldn't be going anywhere else on its own. Not that the Nebula-converted driver would care, considering that his face was now painted all over what was left of both the wall and the windshield before it.