06-28-2017, 11:13 PM
“Sure, you take Mystique and leave me alone with the creep who makes space-time his bitch. That seems fair.”
The blade end of said creep’s swiss voulge crashed through the tree I’d been hiding behind, balsa splinters spraying as I narrowly avoided being shishkabobbed. My luck was short-lived, however, as not a second later its owner appeared in front of me, this time swinging the ax-end horizontally in hopes of Antoinette-ing me. In a moment of panic I braced my 12 gauge vertically, the steel barrel denting noticeably as it barely managed to stall the heavy halberd. The force of the abomination’s strikes had driven me backward once again, despite efforts. I couldn’t keep this up for much longer.
“How about a little breathing room?” I asked, dropping my sawed-off onto the muddy forest floor as he hefted his polearm for another strike. I reached to my shoulder harness and quickdrew my pistol, firing off a single shot before his glowy greens vanished from view. I took the opportunity and darted deeper into the woods, spindly branches lashing my face and arms as I put distance between us.
“You can’t run from me,” a throaty voice whispered from far too close. I turned quickly to face the ebony visage of its owner. “You’re out of ammunition. This is over.”
“Yeah, I’m also out of patience,” I snapped, throwing caution to the wind and diving forward. I caught the shade around the waist and brought him down hard to the soggy earth with a damp thud. Blow after blow fell upon his glassy face, my bloody fists aching as I struck what felt more like stone than face. Predictably, I soon found myself instead pummeling mud, the coward vanishing from sight for what felt like the hundredth time. “Stay put!” I snarled, glancing around for where he’d wound up.
“If you insist.” The faint words hung in the air for a few long seconds before an audible bang rang out, the ensuing explosion tossing me nearly 30 feet like a discarded candy wrapper.
Groaning, I got to my feet behind one of the million and a half trees in the area. Taking this asshole down a peg would require something with a bit more oomph than a simple bullet or an expertly crafted one-liner. Luckily I had such an oomph-er at my disposal, and just enough auxiliary firepower to bring it all home. Without a moment to waste, I dropped my knapsack against my cover and fished around for the object of my affection. It was time to give the viewers at home a show, and pyrotechnics were sure to boost the ratings. Now I’d just need some kind of a distraction to prevent the piceous prick from miraculously blocking it or vanishing at the last second or something. Wouldn’t that just be a kick in the teeth.
A raspy, anguished cry suddenly drew my attention as something crashed through the brush, tumbling clumsily down the hillside. I immediately recognized the beetle-like wings of my ad-spangled companion as he cartwheeled into view, stopping a few yards from the pompous telepath. Cell was smeared from beak to toe with thick brown-green blood; evidently his own battle had not gone any better than mine. With what I could only imagine was the eldritch equivalent of a smile, the sorcerer stepped forward to deal the final blow. With no time to wax poetic on how much I’d miss the poor roach, I closed my eyes and began to focus as I set my plan into action. Hopefully Karl would allow me to summon in my special toy just this once.
“Tearen!” a familiar copycat’s voice echoed down the hillside. The ax-wielder came staggering through the foliage, grimacing as she clutched at a bloodied shoulder with her free hand. “Look out! He’s not down!”
At once the shade’s ghoulish peepers shot down to Cell’s prone body, the bio-android quickly rolling onto his side with glee in his eyes. His clawed hands, smeared in what now was revealed to be more mud than blood, cradled an orb of pulsing spirit energy. “Your bitch ain’t the only one on the block who can play posssum, 8-Ball.”
Tearen stumbled backward as the insectoid released the blast, the orb slowing noticeably as the former started with his space-time shenanigans once again. Unfortunately for him, that cop-out couldn’t reach far enough to spare him my wrath. On shaking haunches I stood, twenty glorious pounds of Russian anti-tank munition resting over my shoulder. Shoelace-tied to the business end was an extra pound of good old-fashioned American trinitrotoluene. Beaming with pride, I sparked my Syntech-issued flint and ignited the dangling wick. “Fire in the hole!” I cried, depressing the trigger. I basked in the spray of sparks as my rocket took off.
The blade end of said creep’s swiss voulge crashed through the tree I’d been hiding behind, balsa splinters spraying as I narrowly avoided being shishkabobbed. My luck was short-lived, however, as not a second later its owner appeared in front of me, this time swinging the ax-end horizontally in hopes of Antoinette-ing me. In a moment of panic I braced my 12 gauge vertically, the steel barrel denting noticeably as it barely managed to stall the heavy halberd. The force of the abomination’s strikes had driven me backward once again, despite efforts. I couldn’t keep this up for much longer.
“How about a little breathing room?” I asked, dropping my sawed-off onto the muddy forest floor as he hefted his polearm for another strike. I reached to my shoulder harness and quickdrew my pistol, firing off a single shot before his glowy greens vanished from view. I took the opportunity and darted deeper into the woods, spindly branches lashing my face and arms as I put distance between us.
“You can’t run from me,” a throaty voice whispered from far too close. I turned quickly to face the ebony visage of its owner. “You’re out of ammunition. This is over.”
“Yeah, I’m also out of patience,” I snapped, throwing caution to the wind and diving forward. I caught the shade around the waist and brought him down hard to the soggy earth with a damp thud. Blow after blow fell upon his glassy face, my bloody fists aching as I struck what felt more like stone than face. Predictably, I soon found myself instead pummeling mud, the coward vanishing from sight for what felt like the hundredth time. “Stay put!” I snarled, glancing around for where he’d wound up.
“If you insist.” The faint words hung in the air for a few long seconds before an audible bang rang out, the ensuing explosion tossing me nearly 30 feet like a discarded candy wrapper.
Groaning, I got to my feet behind one of the million and a half trees in the area. Taking this asshole down a peg would require something with a bit more oomph than a simple bullet or an expertly crafted one-liner. Luckily I had such an oomph-er at my disposal, and just enough auxiliary firepower to bring it all home. Without a moment to waste, I dropped my knapsack against my cover and fished around for the object of my affection. It was time to give the viewers at home a show, and pyrotechnics were sure to boost the ratings. Now I’d just need some kind of a distraction to prevent the piceous prick from miraculously blocking it or vanishing at the last second or something. Wouldn’t that just be a kick in the teeth.
A raspy, anguished cry suddenly drew my attention as something crashed through the brush, tumbling clumsily down the hillside. I immediately recognized the beetle-like wings of my ad-spangled companion as he cartwheeled into view, stopping a few yards from the pompous telepath. Cell was smeared from beak to toe with thick brown-green blood; evidently his own battle had not gone any better than mine. With what I could only imagine was the eldritch equivalent of a smile, the sorcerer stepped forward to deal the final blow. With no time to wax poetic on how much I’d miss the poor roach, I closed my eyes and began to focus as I set my plan into action. Hopefully Karl would allow me to summon in my special toy just this once.
“Tearen!” a familiar copycat’s voice echoed down the hillside. The ax-wielder came staggering through the foliage, grimacing as she clutched at a bloodied shoulder with her free hand. “Look out! He’s not down!”
At once the shade’s ghoulish peepers shot down to Cell’s prone body, the bio-android quickly rolling onto his side with glee in his eyes. His clawed hands, smeared in what now was revealed to be more mud than blood, cradled an orb of pulsing spirit energy. “Your bitch ain’t the only one on the block who can play posssum, 8-Ball.”
Tearen stumbled backward as the insectoid released the blast, the orb slowing noticeably as the former started with his space-time shenanigans once again. Unfortunately for him, that cop-out couldn’t reach far enough to spare him my wrath. On shaking haunches I stood, twenty glorious pounds of Russian anti-tank munition resting over my shoulder. Shoelace-tied to the business end was an extra pound of good old-fashioned American trinitrotoluene. Beaming with pride, I sparked my Syntech-issued flint and ignited the dangling wick. “Fire in the hole!” I cried, depressing the trigger. I basked in the spray of sparks as my rocket took off.
Quote:800 words on the nose, according to Wordcounter.
Using Dynamite and RPG-7 on Tearen Wover. 0/2 SP remaining.
Archer scuffled with Tearen, the former blocking and dodging hits while the latter teleported to avoid bullets.
Archer tackled Tearen and punched him in the dome a couple of times, to little effect. Tearen then teleported away.
Tearen tossed Archer with the explosion from Warp Burst.
Cell appeared and played dead for a bit before tossing a Ki Blast at Tearen.
Tearen used Time Manipulation to flee the attack.
Archer launched a dynamite and grenade combo.
![[Image: sterling-archer.jpg]](https://hollywoodhatesme.files.wordpress.com/2015/03/sterling-archer.jpg)