07-04-2017, 12:05 PM
My heart sank as the tallest of Murder, Inc. strode forward, the remainder of his compatriots barely sparing me second looks before turning and leaving. Was one dude waving a shotgun really enough to spook the rest of them?
The ginger-haired oldtimer strode forward, looking more than a little rattled and in major need of a shave. Despite his various injuries, either mental or physical, he stood tall. “I will be your opponent,” he said simply, his bassy timbre echoing through the empty street.
Before I could effectively unload a salvo of sass, my lungs seized within my chest and knocked me into a coughing fit. I inhaled frantic breaths, desperately working air into my lungs. “H-hold on a sec,” I choked out.
“Do...do you need a minute?” my foe inquired, forehead wrinkling as his eyes widened. Whatever dramatic tension there had been was now thoroughly deflated.
“No, no I’m good,” I finally replied, blinking tears from my eyes as I stood tall. “Sorry, I just ran like...all of the blocks.” I shot a glance over his shoulder at his departing comrades. “I’m guessing there’s no chance you’ll let me chase after the rest of the Sinister Six, huh?”
“None,” came the curt reply.
Well, I tried.
“Sorry, Blue,” I muttered aloud, grasping my Z-staff in one hand and stowing my other guns in favor of the submachine option. “But it's time to buzz the tower.” A goofy grin crossed my face as I spoke the words. SO cool.
“I request that we move this clash away from my comrades,” Scruffy announced, striding toward me. “They’ve suffered enough in this hell.”
“Hell is empty, pal,” I replied, clapping a bloodied hand on my bare chest. “All the devils are here.”
As my rival opened his mouth to reply, I lowered the barrel of my MP40 and opened fire, dousing the dope liberally in a storm of lead. He at once dashed right and away from the flurry, brandishing before him what I realized to be a completely metal limb in an attempt to deflect what he couldn’t avoid. I could spare only a second to snicker at the maneuver before an unforeseen force exploded outward from his location, the shockwave knocking me off my feet. I fell hard on the pavement, my already-concussed noggin bouncing painfully off the tar. In an instant I felt the reverberation of heavy footfalls as the auburn oaf tore toward me, leaping into a high arc with his non-metal fist brought to bear. Having no time to evade, I tensed as he landed upon me, the blow falling square in my gut.
Nothing.
“That’s it?!” I exclaimed, breaking into laughter. “My geriatric mother hits harder than you!”
I applied a boot to the bandaged chest of the unkempt weakling, managing to barely heave his heavy ass off of me by bracing against the pavement. As he began to steady himself, I took the opportunity to roll sideways and up onto the sidewalk, scrambling behind a parked car. Thinking quickly, I dropped my present firearm to hang by its strap and pulled free my Lupara, making a quick check to ensure it was loaded. Even if he hit like a woman, I didn’t want him any closer to me than he had to be.
Sadly, I soon found that I had miscalculated. With a deafening boom the Buick at my back was rent in pieces, tossing me effortlessly through the plate glass window of a department store. I toppled through a clothing rack, flailing wildly before landing unceremoniously among a pile of partly-clothed manikins. I stifled a giggle as the smoke began to clear, lifting myself from the pile of faux women. “Ladies, ladies, please.”
With speed that I had not yet seen from my foe, he soon came rampaging across the sales floor like a bull in a china shop. A playful grin crossed my face as he neared, my chest puffing out as he pulled back his fist once more. “Go ahead,” I challenged. “I’ll give you a free one.”
Mistake.
His fist struck home with all the force of an out-of-control locomotive, forcing a fine spray of blood and dead air to escape my lungs as his hand threatened to perforate my abdomen. My eyes bulged as my body went limp, folding into a C-shape around his arm before being knocked backward yet again, this time through a perfume display. Glass cruets shattered into fine particles and embedded themselves into my back as I fell with a dull thud. A moment later I got shakily to my feet, spitting a mouthful of blood.
“The FUCK was tha-”
The words weren’t more than halfway out of my mouth before something in my chest detonated, slamming me backward and over the checkout counter.
The ginger-haired oldtimer strode forward, looking more than a little rattled and in major need of a shave. Despite his various injuries, either mental or physical, he stood tall. “I will be your opponent,” he said simply, his bassy timbre echoing through the empty street.
Before I could effectively unload a salvo of sass, my lungs seized within my chest and knocked me into a coughing fit. I inhaled frantic breaths, desperately working air into my lungs. “H-hold on a sec,” I choked out.
“Do...do you need a minute?” my foe inquired, forehead wrinkling as his eyes widened. Whatever dramatic tension there had been was now thoroughly deflated.
“No, no I’m good,” I finally replied, blinking tears from my eyes as I stood tall. “Sorry, I just ran like...all of the blocks.” I shot a glance over his shoulder at his departing comrades. “I’m guessing there’s no chance you’ll let me chase after the rest of the Sinister Six, huh?”
“None,” came the curt reply.
Well, I tried.
“Sorry, Blue,” I muttered aloud, grasping my Z-staff in one hand and stowing my other guns in favor of the submachine option. “But it's time to buzz the tower.” A goofy grin crossed my face as I spoke the words. SO cool.
“I request that we move this clash away from my comrades,” Scruffy announced, striding toward me. “They’ve suffered enough in this hell.”
“Hell is empty, pal,” I replied, clapping a bloodied hand on my bare chest. “All the devils are here.”
As my rival opened his mouth to reply, I lowered the barrel of my MP40 and opened fire, dousing the dope liberally in a storm of lead. He at once dashed right and away from the flurry, brandishing before him what I realized to be a completely metal limb in an attempt to deflect what he couldn’t avoid. I could spare only a second to snicker at the maneuver before an unforeseen force exploded outward from his location, the shockwave knocking me off my feet. I fell hard on the pavement, my already-concussed noggin bouncing painfully off the tar. In an instant I felt the reverberation of heavy footfalls as the auburn oaf tore toward me, leaping into a high arc with his non-metal fist brought to bear. Having no time to evade, I tensed as he landed upon me, the blow falling square in my gut.
Nothing.
“That’s it?!” I exclaimed, breaking into laughter. “My geriatric mother hits harder than you!”
I applied a boot to the bandaged chest of the unkempt weakling, managing to barely heave his heavy ass off of me by bracing against the pavement. As he began to steady himself, I took the opportunity to roll sideways and up onto the sidewalk, scrambling behind a parked car. Thinking quickly, I dropped my present firearm to hang by its strap and pulled free my Lupara, making a quick check to ensure it was loaded. Even if he hit like a woman, I didn’t want him any closer to me than he had to be.
Sadly, I soon found that I had miscalculated. With a deafening boom the Buick at my back was rent in pieces, tossing me effortlessly through the plate glass window of a department store. I toppled through a clothing rack, flailing wildly before landing unceremoniously among a pile of partly-clothed manikins. I stifled a giggle as the smoke began to clear, lifting myself from the pile of faux women. “Ladies, ladies, please.”
With speed that I had not yet seen from my foe, he soon came rampaging across the sales floor like a bull in a china shop. A playful grin crossed my face as he neared, my chest puffing out as he pulled back his fist once more. “Go ahead,” I challenged. “I’ll give you a free one.”
Mistake.
His fist struck home with all the force of an out-of-control locomotive, forcing a fine spray of blood and dead air to escape my lungs as his hand threatened to perforate my abdomen. My eyes bulged as my body went limp, folding into a C-shape around his arm before being knocked backward yet again, this time through a perfume display. Glass cruets shattered into fine particles and embedded themselves into my back as I fell with a dull thud. A moment later I got shakily to my feet, spitting a mouthful of blood.
“The FUCK was tha-”
The words weren’t more than halfway out of my mouth before something in my chest detonated, slamming me backward and over the checkout counter.
Quote:798 words.
Archer was silly and sassy and then shot Gildarts with his MP 40.
A few bullets hit, but a good portion were absorbed by Parry. Archer was then tossed by Parry’s effect.
Gildarts tagged Archer with Detonate. Archer predictably got overly cocky and kicked him hard in the stomach before readying his shotgun.
Gildarts blew up a car with Disassemble – Crash!
Archer idiotically took a Crushing Punch to the stomach.
Detonate then went off. Clean-up needed in Health and Beauty.
![[Image: sterling-archer.jpg]](https://hollywoodhatesme.files.wordpress.com/2015/03/sterling-archer.jpg)