06-15-2017, 06:08 AM
He watched the blue girl bounce up the side of one of the buildings and disappear. Silly creature. Ah well. Hoepfully he could count on her being just as amiable and disruptive the next time they crossed paths.
He walked the streets of the urban environment, feeling much more at home than on the soggy beach. Mountains of glass and steels, and rivers of asphalt upon which he trod. Empty. Completely empty. Karl Jak must be one rich son of a bitch to be able to empty out an entire island for a game show.
The only sounds he could hear were the cawing of birds and the echo of his footsteps rebounding off the brick alleyways. Which would announce hiz presence to anyone listening for signs of life, but he wasn't worried.
Oh, but that escape from the swordsman! What a thrill! It was fantastic, and clever, and exaxtly what he had been looking for, the chance to flex his mental muscles to his advantage. He took the tooth out of his pocket, inspecting it and turning it over in his hands. Pretty good for the first round. He had a piece of something, and he'd shaken the most dangerous combatant he faced so far.
Still, it wouldn't do to be caught with his pants down. He felt in his waistband for the heavy revolver and flipped the cylinder open, spinning it silently. Well oiled, and fully loaded, .357 caliber bullets, each cartridge as big as his pinky. More than enough to blow a hole in most targets, and leave the rest gasping.
It was quite possibly his favorite gun in existence, with the exception of a compact modern death machine he'd only gotten to fire once at a shooting range.
Back into the waistband it went, and he pulled out his pair of brass knuckles next, slipping them on and off while he headed deeper into the city, the concrete jungle growing thicker with newsstands, market, and brand retailers.
He walked the streets of the urban environment, feeling much more at home than on the soggy beach. Mountains of glass and steels, and rivers of asphalt upon which he trod. Empty. Completely empty. Karl Jak must be one rich son of a bitch to be able to empty out an entire island for a game show.
The only sounds he could hear were the cawing of birds and the echo of his footsteps rebounding off the brick alleyways. Which would announce hiz presence to anyone listening for signs of life, but he wasn't worried.
Oh, but that escape from the swordsman! What a thrill! It was fantastic, and clever, and exaxtly what he had been looking for, the chance to flex his mental muscles to his advantage. He took the tooth out of his pocket, inspecting it and turning it over in his hands. Pretty good for the first round. He had a piece of something, and he'd shaken the most dangerous combatant he faced so far.
Still, it wouldn't do to be caught with his pants down. He felt in his waistband for the heavy revolver and flipped the cylinder open, spinning it silently. Well oiled, and fully loaded, .357 caliber bullets, each cartridge as big as his pinky. More than enough to blow a hole in most targets, and leave the rest gasping.
It was quite possibly his favorite gun in existence, with the exception of a compact modern death machine he'd only gotten to fire once at a shooting range.
Back into the waistband it went, and he pulled out his pair of brass knuckles next, slipping them on and off while he headed deeper into the city, the concrete jungle growing thicker with newsstands, market, and brand retailers.
Quote:C11 to C19
“I don’t wanna be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me.”