[Round 1] Erik Vrell & Deadpool vs Dave Strider and Kenpachi

[Karl Jak]

Stepping down the aisle to the next monitoring station, Karl watched as the next two sets were beamed into the empty little arena.  The producer leaned on the button for the speakers and cleared his throat.
 
“Welcome to Round 1.  Did someone page Mr. Wilson that it’s time to participate?  He’s there, right?  Quick, Eric, tap him to make sure he’s turned on.”
 
Deadpool wagged a finger at the sky.  “Jokes on you, Karl, I’m always turned on.”
 
Karl smiled as he tapped the gong switch.  “Good luck to you all, and may the best twosome win.”
 

Word Limit: 850
Posts: 2
Time Limit: 48 hours
Random Elements: On
Damage Meter: Off
 
Time limit starts at 8 am CDT
 
Fight Area description is available in the Fight Area Reveals thread and the Round 1 Discussion thread.

[Erik Vrell]

Erik took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He could barely believe it, he was in his first fight of Dante’s Abyss. Deadpool, on the other hand, didn't seem to be feeling the nerves. The merc with a mouth sauntered over to his partner and put an arm over his shoulder and brought their heads together. 

“You got a plan?” He asked as he shot a glance at the beast of a man and his substantially cooler ally.

“Well… Perhaps we could try to turn the larger one’s attacks against his partner. Of course that would only work if he's a reckless fighter so we’ll need to see how he fi-”

“Yeah okay, cool, better idea.” Deadpool interrupted. “You fight the big one, while I go take on the cool guy, okay? Okay. Go get ‘em, sport.” 

With a pat on the back Erik was pushed towards the massive swordsman- his protests seemed to fall on deaf ears. Kenpachi began to walk towards the noble before breaking into a jog, then a run. Fear gripped the smaller man as the giant warrior barrelled towards him, a wicked grin splayed across his face. Erik raised Mageslayer in a vain attempt to block the shinigami’s incoming blow, only to be sent flying by the strength of his swing. The psychic tumbled across the arena, his sword thrown across the budokai by the momentum.

“Allowing a wild ox into the tournament hardly seems fair.” Erik groaned to himself as he started to stand back up. Fear shot through the psychic as he noticed the ground tremble under foot. Indistinct purple mist peeled off the young man's body as he began to phase; he desperately hoped that he'd pull this off before the brute sawed him in two. He smashed his eyes shut as the massive blade cleaved downward, only to gasp in relief as it passed through the arm of his violet form harmlessly.  The psychic couldn't help but shudder at his opponent’s wild swings. What kind of berserk monster of a man fought like that? The phased priest got to his feet as Kenpachi stopped his savage slashes, having realised that his slender foe was unharmed by the assault. 

Erik frantically scoured the arena for his lost sword. He relaxed as he spotted the discarded blade and recalled it with telekinesis. Deadpool, currently engaged in a battle of both blades and words with Dave, didn't seem to notice as the giant man approached him from behind. The psychic slipped out of his phased form and charged towards the shinigami, intensely focused on the mind of the beast. His eyes began to glow as he caught the man’s consciousness in the psionic grip.

“You style is whack, your rhymes are slack, you're gonna collapse when you take this attack.” Dave rhymed, spitting fire as he swung his sword.

“You call that a rhyme? I call it a crime. You wanna take me two-v-one, that's fine.” Deadpool rapped back as he caught Kenpachi approaching out of the corner of his eye.

The shinigami raised his zanpakuto menacingly, unphased by the fact that the mercenary had heard him, only to be interrupted by an ear-splitting scream directly behind him. The beast whipped around and brought his blade down with intent to maim the source of his irritation. There was, much to his surprise, no one there. Erik dashed around to the side of the distracted shinigami and slashed Mageslayer towards his flank. Kenpachi took the blow in stride, hardly even reacting to the strike. 

“Our little ghost has come back to fight.” Kenpachi rumbled as his grin widened. 

“Even if it means being cleaved in half, I'll not let you fight him two against one.” The psion called out valiantly as he tried his hardest to look resolute in the face of death. The grinning behemoth lunged towards his victim as his blade arced sideways. The noble narrowly avoided the massive blow with a hasty dodge. The frenzied, wild swings of the shinigami seemed random, but the New Babylonian could see a glimmer of aim beneath the storm of steel. 

The psychic struggled to avoid swings that he could not predict, a few glancing blows were the reward for his efforts. He was disturbed by the fact that not only was each ‘glancing’ hit similar in strength to a normal man’s solid blow, but felt as if Kenpachi’s full strength wasn't behind it. It was only by the saving grace of his lack of pain that kept him standing. Desperate to escape the onslaught, the priest ducked under another powerful swing and slid between the beastly man’s legs. 

“Uunn'gaelig, God of death, hear my prayer.” Erik chanted as the shinigami turned to face him and narrowly missed another swing. “Lend me a fraction of your power, and let the slow creep of decay claim this beast before me!” 

Pale green energy coalesced in the Nippurian’s body as he pointed at the shinigami, his eyes flooded with that same blazing green light.

“Your body withers away,” the priest hissed as he cursed his foe.

849/850 words

Erik engages Kenpachi, before phasing, pulling back and reengaging.

Erik used Mageslayer, phasing, telekinesis, Paracusia. Kenpachi used zanpakuto.

Using a full Atrophy on Kenpachi (-2 SP. 3/5 remaining.)

[Dave Strider]

“Well, it looks like pipsqueak is gonna be helping me out after all. Guess that leaves just me and you, huh Mr. Shades?”

Dave gave a sharp exhale through his nose as confirmation, the two flashing their weapons as their partners behind them were already in the heat of battle. Dave was working things in his mind for a moment, trying to piece together how he should fight. He didn't trust this dude, he looked and talked like some kind of shitty ironic superhero, probably one he would have read too.

“So now what, we are just gonna stand here for thirty seconds while you do an internal monologue? I always hate this part in fights, it’s so boring.” He began to take a few steps forward, showing off his skills as he twirled his katanas. “Smackface McGee over there has the right idea, so how about we get down to business?” With that the mercenary went full sprint towards the Knight, who now held Caledscratch in front of him with two hands.

“Whatever, let’s go.”

The two quickly clashed, the steel of their weapons singing aloud with each strike. Both seemed to be well established swordsmen, slowly making their way around the arena while both trying to avoid any crossfire from the other duo. Although Kenpachi’s strength was reduced, he stayed relentless with his attacks, leaving the psychic having trouble finding an opening for himself to focus on his more advanced techniques.

“Nice shitty katanas.” Dave spoke aloud as he brought his sword down, Deadpool crossing his blades to stop it in its tracks.

“Nice shitty sword, too bad it’s all you got. Unless you’re gonna pull some time shenanigans on me.”

Well shit. He knows.

Deadpool pushed back with his own strength, beginning to overpower Strider in his moment of confusion. With a quick spin he smacked the blade aside, tossing up a katana before pulling out a gun, Dave’s eyes widening before attempting to bring his blade in, to block. Five shots were fired, with two of them being deflected while the others hit their mark. Strider fell back and looked up at the mercenary, with their allies in the background still going at it. Dave tightened his grip on Caledscratch and watched as the katana came back down, Deadpool allowing it to land right into its sheath.

“Looks like I got the first hit, and it’s technically not even my turn, sucks to be your writer, huh? Or should I say ghostwriter?” Deadpool gave a laugh and literally slapped his knee. “Man, I should get paid for this.”

The Knight held out his hand and summoned a timetable, grimacing a bit from the shots in his chest. Another Dave appeared and repeated the downward slash he committed to earlier. Deadpool blocked with one hand, giving another laugh.

“Didn’t I just tell you I knew what this power was?” Deadpool spoke as he raised his gun to the original Dave, who was now rushing towards him. Five more shots went off, this time all missing as Strider exerted a burst of speed, heading straight for Deadpool.

“Burst movement, you clever little shitstain.” Deadpool wagged his finger as Dave slashed at his side leaving a slight gash in the mercenary’s outfit. The duplicate Dave dissipated, leaving Deadpool with his hands free, checking out the cut in his suit.

“See and I just got this dry-cleaned for the event. How else am I supposed to seduce Karl- Hey where are you going?” Deadpool watched the cool kid simply keep going after slashing him, before realizing what was happening, “Oh, shit. PIPSQUEAK, WATCH FOR THE CHEAP SHOT!” With a sprint, he chased after Dave.

“What?” Erik called out, looking behind him in time to see Strider coming at him. The psychic had nothing to defend himself with, being caught between the two and there wasn’t enough time to phase and avoid it. The psychic braced as the sword dug into his back, leaving a wide gash across it, starting from his shoulder.

“Damn it!” the psychic cursed through clenched teeth, faltering for a moment as he phased in defense afterwards, calling out to his ally, who was now arriving.

“Didn’t you call fighting him?!”

“Not my fault you didn’t invest in things to block swords.” Deadpool stated.

Erik managed to take a step back behind Deadpool, muttering a bit. “How about we fight together then.”

“Fine, I’ll be your tank, wizard guy.” Deadpool casually responded, the term wizard making Erik narrow his eyes.

“Psychic.”

“Same thing, either way, it’s about to be my turn, this guy is almost out of words.”

Erik sighed, assuming the man was just crazy, summoning his bow as they looked at their opponents. Both held their sword high with one hand, with Dave having his hand outstretched in order to control his Timetable.

“Hey, you with the suit.” Dave nodded his head at Deadpool as he lowered his sword a bit.

“Now? What are you gonna do with twenty words?”

“Lay down some sick fires.” Dave floated and reached out for his other Timetable.

“Shit.”

850 according to gdocs
Deadpool has a few shots on Dave, and in return there is a small gash in the mercenary's side.
Dave slashed Erik's back while it was turned
Dave is using his T1 super attack Sick Rhymes on Deadpool 2/3 sp remaining

[Deadpool]

”Awh shit.” Deadpool nudged Erik’s arm ”Watch this. He’s about to go all Tiesto on us!”

Erik looked up at his ally with an arched brow and widened eye. “Tiesto?”

"You know . . . the really rich, Dutch DJ?”

“I’m not familiar with the name.”

”He’s about to drop some type of beat--hopefully cool rap instrument, or a remixed sample of an old classic,” the mercenary explained. Then his eyes instantly lit up. ”No, wait, I got the perfect fucking song!!!!” He returned his attention to the faceless teenager (perhaps preteen?), now pointing his katana at him. ”Hey, do you know the theme song to Mortal Kombat?!”

Dave’s sunglasses glinted under Karl’s artificial sun, and a mouth materialized in the form of a smirk across his featureless white face. “Hell yeah I do!”  The turntables under his hands began to spin.

Erik snarled like an annoyed dog tolerating abuse from a toddler. “Don’t provoke him, Deadpool.”

”Relax. He’s just going to summon an alternate version of himself. I’m used to these types of shenanigans; in my multiverse, there are literally hundreds of me, all from different universes--there’s a Grootpool, and a Pandapool, and even a Deadpool Dinosaur . . . there’s also an evil version of me out there.

I’m definitely willing to accept a small inconvenience for the chance to fight with the Mortal Kombat theme song playing in the background.”

The deep sound of a pounded gong echoed from Dave’s turntables, followed by a bass-less techno rhythm.

Oooooohhh, it’s about to start!!!” Deadpool got as giddy as a prepubescent girl attending a boy-band concert.

Test your might, a voice emitted, thrice, then once more, before another voice yelled: “MORTAL KOMBAAAAT!”

When the bass subsequently jump-started the pace of the song, Dave’s smirk opened into a full grin, showcasing a whole cast of teeth whiter than his skin.

”The clone will probably be reenacting one of his earlier actions!” Deadpool recalled.

Erik generated a purple arrow, and immediately launched it from his energetic bow. It zoomed towards Dave, but never reached its intended  target; another Dave--with a full-length tie instead of a bow-tie--fell from the sky, sword in hand, to deflect the attack. The psionic arrow smashed into the western portion of the shallow brick wall enclosing the arena, and exploded into a dazzling display of violet fireworks.

Deadpool was already rushing forward, katana cocked back as if it were a polo mallet. He struck the clone across the belly, spilling its guts onto the scuffed tiles of the arena; digested food from Dave’s dinner the previous evening oozed from the copy’s small intestines, diluting the color of blood into the color of liquified shit.

”Jesus, what the fuck did you eat last night, indian food?” The stench made Deadpool’s face ball like a fist. ”The smell . . . it’s ruining my Mortal Kombat fight scene!!!”

“Look out!!!!” Erik yelled.

When the mercenary went to turn, he felt the cold touch of steel drive through his back and say hello from the other side like Adele as it protruded from his chest.

”That’s my blood, isn’t it?” he asked while staring down at the sanguine- dipped blade; his katana dropped from his hand. ”I’m starting to feel like one of Bill Cosby’s victims, after one of his special cocktails.”

A third replica of Dave materialized just feet away from the mercenary, intent on finishing the job, but a psionic arrow splattered it over the dragon mural outside of the ring.

Erik quickly generated another arrow and took aim at the copy of Dave impaling his partner. As he went to release it, a fourth clone slashed at his arms, breaking his focus. His bow and arrow dissipated to nothingness.

“Dammit,” he muttered.

The mage generated a blade of his own. He swiped it at the clone’s legs, transforming it into a career cripple. It collapsed to the ring in three unequal parts--two legs from the knees down, and one rest of body--, wailing like a kid who wants their momma.

Erik wasn’t foolish enough to become lax after a small victory; swiveling around, he swung his blade at a fifth clone’s neck, giving it a smiley face from ear to ear. Blood squirted from its juggler, and flowed like a waterfall over its attire. 

WC: 787

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

The butchery of Dave’s duplicates was mercifully interrupted as Erik felt the stinging kiss of steel across his back, a meager rivulet of claret staining his azure cloak as he spun around to meet the frenzied gaze of the seemingly forgotten shinigami. A second slash came an instant later, tracing a thin trail of scarlet diagonally down his ebon tunic.

”I knew I forgot something,” the masked merc chuckled, using the moment of distraction to un-skewer himself and retrieve his blades. ”Murdering kids is just so much fun, ya’ know?”

“Douchey ninja wannabe / You’d better keep you eyes on the real emcee,” Strider rhymed, smoothing a sweaty blonde lock into place before flicking his Timetable with a flourish. A pair of clones appeared as the beat dropped, each facsimile mirroring a blow that the mercenary had blocked moments ago. “Gonna feel the heat of this fire / I’m God-tier, ain’t nothing higher.”

“I got cancer kid, so my rhymes are the illest,” the jumpsuited hitman retorted, deflecting the strikes with his katana before letting loose a few pistol shots. “You think you’re cool, but DP is the chillest.”

Kenpachi’s lungs flooded with liquid fire, knees near-knocking as he pressed the assault. His muscles ached, limbs feeling more so comprised of something akin to jelly than sinew. The disheveled samurai felt a veritable deluge of sweat pour down the small of his back as he feverishly aimed yet another calloused fist at the diminutive diviner’s flabbergasted mug. For all of his fervor, though, the boy had suffered little more a smattering of small cuts and wales from the shinigami.

“YES!” Zaraki howled, gasping through a cheshire grin. “This is better than I could have imagined!” the towering swordsman cried out, head swimming as his heart thrummed an erratic, staccato rhythm. His hand trembled like a wilting leaf, barely able to keep an adequate grip on his sword as his stomach performed unruly somersaults in his gut. Even if it was just a cheap deception, the boy had offered him the sole thing he had desired, far more than any prize of this Abyss: a challenge. “LET’S GO!” he commanded, taking hold of his jacket and kimono and tearing them free at the waist to expose his scarred chest, daring the cleric to attack. “Pray to your ‘God of Death’, and make me feel alive, boy!”

Abruptly shaking his attention free of the deranged deity’s caterwauling, Erik Vrell bound backward several feet, footwear skidding against the smooth stone tile as he took a few seconds to fall into a low stance and conjure a set of ethereal blades. Mustering his courage, he dove back into the fray as his unhinged opponent followed suit, Vrell surgically driving his ghostly weapons into Zaraki’s vitals. To the chagrin of both parties, the blades elicited little more than a sigh from the taller combatant.

“Peh, pity it seems like your spell hasn’t done much to my resilience,” Kenpachi stated sourly, almost disappointed. “You’ll have to try harder than that!”

Let’s trying something with a little more bite, then, the telepath offered, forcing the words directly into Kenpachi’s psyche as he narrowly avoided a sandal to the gut. Erik extended his hand as he strafed, hurriedly summoning a violet halo around his palm. His digits clasped shut around the ringlet as he finished the conjuring, taking off in a sprint before the barebacked brute could render retort.

"Ugh, enough with the alliteration,” Deadpool called from across the arena, the loquacious loudmouth lamenting as he parried a strike from the chronomancer’s broadsword. “Oh, COME ON.”

Putting some distance between themselves and the pair of rhyming swordsmen, the robed ronin took off after Vrell. He sprang nimbly across the arena, quickly closing the gap, nodachi in hand, like a hungry lion at the heels of an antelope. As the two skirted the edge of the arena, Erik took notice of the predator at his rear, spinning in place and banking the whirling blade expertly off of the far corner of the brick barricade. The chakram rebounded off of the sturdy material, returning back in their direction to chew a deep laceration in the side of Kenpachi’s neck before colliding with--and taking a sizeable chunk out of--the arena. Blood poured freely down the shaggy swordsman’s exposed torso as his insane grin widened further.

“Why’re you smiling?” Erik inquired, stopping dead to gulp down labored breaths as he drew his soot-hued blade in anticipation.

“I think I owe you this,” Kenpachi began, pausing to take up a formal stance. “Who again did you offer your prayers to earlier?” he asked, vibrant aureate energy spilling from his pores. He displayed his marred sword before him for a few long seconds before slowly raised his free hand, finally taking hold of the cloth-clad tsuka with both mitts. “‘Cause I ain’t forfeiting my title.” In one smooth motion, the Death God reared back before bringing his zanpakutō down with finality.

849 words via Google Docs.
Kenpachi did some swording
Erik used Psi Blades and Psi Chakram

Using Ryōdan (Tier-II Super Attack) on Mr. Vrell. (2 SP)

[Erik Vrell]

Erik’s stomach dropped as the shinigami brought his blade down, fear clutching his heart as he felt the sudden release of energy. The psychic had no innate ability to detect power, but he didn't need one to feel the sheer ferocity of Kenpachi’s blow. Beneath the fear, however, a spark of rage had been ignited within the priest. 

“By what right does this beast call himself a god?” Erik thought to himself bitterly, oblivious to the sound of footsteps growing closer. “Such an insult cannot go unanswered.”

The psychic prepared himself to weather the colossal blow and tackle the beast with the power of his righteous wrath alone, but he didn't have to. 

“Iconic moment!” Deadpool shouted as he flung himself between Erik and Kenpachi, shielding his partner from the devastating blast. The mercenary was hurled away by the raw power of the strike, his body barely holding itself together as its mutant regeneration kicked in. 

“Deadpool!” Erik gasped as he rushed over to the spandex-clad antihero. Kenpachi grunted in obvious disappointment at the interception, moving in to continue his duel with the psychic. Deadpool slowly sat himself up and shakily grasped Erik’s hand with both of his own.

“Give it to me straight,” he choked, trying not to look down. “Am I ever gonna walk again?” 

“You look fine.” Erik said, taking a moment to realise that Deadpool was playing another joke. 

“You're a miracle worker!” Deadpool cried as he leapt to his feet, narrowly dodging a sword swing from Dave. Erik turned back to his own opponent, remembering his rage at the blasphemous shinigami. Kenpachi had a strange look on his face, a mixture of disappointment at his victim escaping his fate and excitement at the mercenary’s regeneration. 

“This has turned out better than I expected.” Kenpachi grinned, bringing his massive blade to bear. “Come on, don't stop now! Make me work for this!” 

“Do not presume yourself to be worthy of the title of god.” The priest spat venomously, his gaze attempting to burn a hole in the shinigami. “But if you want a challenge so badly, I shall oblige.”

Erik took a breath as he focused his mind, attempting to push aside the fatigue pervading his form. Psi flooded the psychic’s body as he chanted under his breath, sending a quiet prayer to his mad patron. 

“Divine father Gal’skap, true lord of the mind, grant me just a spark of your blessed essence so I may smite this blasphemer in your name.” The priest whispered, channeling the psionic power as amethystine lightning exploded from his eyes. Unimpressed, Kenpachi fell upon his prey with a mammoth swing, before a shocked expression split his face as Mageslayer met his blade and turned the blow aside.

“Rejoice, heathen!” Erik roared towards the shinigami, violet sparks crackling across his form as he advanced towards the grinning beast. “Today you get to witness just a fraction of a fraction of the mad god’s power.”

“Now we’re talking!” Kenpachi bellowed back, his voice driven by excitement rather than rage. The smaller man summoned a psi blade to his empty hand, weaving a quick stab in between his parrying and striking when he saw an opening. The psychic’s strikes were surgical as he executed blow after parry after block, pushing the attack as much as he dared against his massive opponent. Despite the rise in strength, Erik couldn't hope to match Kenpachi’s enormous zanpakuto swing for swing, forcing him to rely on a more technical approach.

Before long, however, the fatigue that was already creeping into the psychic’s muscles began to wear him down, and he decided to take a different approach. Sheathing his sword and leaping back a few feet, Erik stared defiantly at his opponent, seemingly defenceless. Kenpachi hesitated a moment, uneasy about his foe’s decision to disarm himself, but nevertheless moved forward re-engage the priest. Beneath Erik’s tunic, rusted chains began to animate, hidden by the pitch-coloured fabric. As the shinigami came within striking distance of the psychic, half a dozen lengths of barbed steel erupted from the smaller man’s back.

“Interesting choice of weaponry.” Kenpachi grunted as the steel serpents lunged forward, each chain attempting to plunge its cruel blade into the shinigami’s exposed flesh. Two of the jagged daggers found their marks, twisting around each of the beast’s arms and binding them tight. The shinigami struggled like a caged beast in Erik’s iron grip, threatening to break the steel tendrils if given an inch. 

“Hey! Doc Oc, watch out!” Deadpool cried as Dave ducked under the mercenary’s swing and rushed towards Erik, ready to give his partner that vital inch. Caledscratch found itself buried in the priest’s back, breaking his concentration just long enough for Kenpachi to take action. The chains binding the shinigami’s arms snapped like over taut string, whipping hurriedly back to their owner. Erik snapped around to face the knight of time, his face a mask of rage.

“Do not interrupt me.” The priest spat as he levelled an accusatory finger at the shade-wearing DJ, power gathering at the tip. “Feel you mind shatter, heathen!”

850/850 words

Deadpool used T2 super defense "Always Wear Protection, Kids!" to tank Kenpachi's super, (he has consented OOC) (-2 SP) 3/5 remaining.

Erik used Mageslayer, psi blade, false emperor's sting, psi overcharge for the round (-2 SP) and mindbreak on Dave (-1 SP). 0/5 SP remaining.

Dave used Caledscratch

Kenpachi used Zanpakutō

[Dave Strider]

Dave watched the finger waggle in front of him like some parent scolding their child. For a moment, he felt something twitch in his mind, but in the next, he felt himself flying across the ring.

“This one is mine, and there shall be no more interruptions, from either of you,” the warrior cried out in defiance, making a irrefutable claim to the mage whose eyes widened in surprise. Though Kenpachi had took Dave’s place for the mental attack, he showed no restraint as he screamed with the entirety of his lungs. Yellow energy built up inside him, becoming ever more visible before a large burst released it.

“Your battle is with me, so make sure you keep your focus on the right target.”

Erik grimaced and clenched his fists, the damned brute was nothing but a pain in his side. The purple psychic energy around him pulsed as he faced the warrior. His eyes glanced behind his target to the swordsman that had been thrown. At least the searing pain in his back wasn’t going to get worse anytime soon.

“Ew, get off of me before Chris Hansen asks me to take a seat.”

Deadpool shoved Dave away, who managed to land on the mercenary, still a bit woozy from almost having a psychic lobotomy.

“Ugh, chill.” Dave shook his head and tried to grip his sword.

Immediate pain slashed across Strider’s shoulder, Deadpool shaking off the blood from his katana before sending the kid back with a kick.

“No chill time, it’s clobberin time!” Deadpool gave a nudge to the air as he listened out to the nonexistent crowd. Dave struggled to get up, taking a moment to reach out for his Timetables.

“Hmph, tough crowd.”

“Speaking of tough shit,” Dave spoke up and began to spin his floating records. “I think I need to make things go a bit quicker to lay some pain on your ass.”

Deadpool chuckled. “Just make sure to lube up first.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not helping this Chris Hansen case am I?”

With newfound energy Dave burst forwards, swinging his sword with greater strength and speed than before. A casual attempt came from the mercenary to block it with his katanas, only to see the tip of the sword shatter, the broken blade embedding itself in his chest as Dave leaped up with him.

“Ugh,” Deadpool coughed, “shittiest Shoryuken I’ve ever been on the receiving end of.”

Deadpool cleaved at the Knight of Time, who in turn retaliated with his own strikes. In one swift motion, Dave spun into an acrobatic fucking pirouette. At that same moment Deadpool came to a realization as he noticed the turntables at Dave’s side spinning faster than normal.

“Fucking time shenanigan power-ups.”

With the momentum of the acrobatic feat, Dave gave an extra powerful slash downward, sending the mercenary to the ground. Deadpool rolled to avoid most of the fall damage before he sprung back up into the air.

“This is how you do Street Fighter.”

The mercenary began to spin, his leg outstretched as Dave took a defensive stance, holding his shitty sword up to block each his from the muscular leg of his opponent.

“One, two, three, four… and FIVE!”

The mercenary returned the favor from before and slammed Dave back to the arena, the teen sliding back on his long red cloak. Dave laid there for a moment, a smirk appearing on his face. It all felt so familiar. The beatdowns. The shitty katanas. The shitty memes.

“What’s with the smile? You’re a bit young to be a masochist.”

“My bro hits harder than your lame ass.”

The Knight’s grip tightened on Caledscratch, a newfound determination flowing through the teenager’s veins. One hand outstretched for his spinning Timetable and the other holding his sword, Dave leaped up and began his full bombardment.

Each swing Deadpool blocked made his very core shiver, though Dave held his sword with just one hand. The kid was fast, too fast now. The turntable came to life as Dave somersaulted over the merc, ending up on his other side. The assault continued, Deadpool now seeing that he was suddenly being assaulted from two sides.

Each katana attempted to parry the attacks but were quickly overwhelmed as numerous gaps in Deadpool’s suit began to appear.

“Ooh that tickles. Dammit not there, they charge extra! Ooh, actually, that one hurt a little.”

The mercenary’s words only showed his worry, as Dave knew this tactic all too well. It looks like he wasn’t the only one who hid behind a mask of irony.

Even now, Dave was more on the edge than usual. His time in this world had only been a sequence of beatdowns, callbacks to his childhood, a reminder that here nothing he ever had mattered. Here, as he fought alongside a stranger against people he had never heard of, he felt empty.

“Hey, back to the fight! I told you no introspective shit, I just want the action.”

As Dave’s clone disappeared, he gave a another wide slash, tearing into the mercenary’s chest.

“Fuck off.”

850 according to google docs

Kenpachi used Overpowering Reiatsu(T1 super defense) used with his permisiion to block Eriks SA

Kenpachi is challenging Erik to fight him without outside forces interferring, wether its Dave or DP

Dave activated his T1 power up A Change of Pace (+2/0/+2/+1) for the whole round -2sp , 0/3 sp remaining

Dave laid down the beat for deadpool, who retaliated with a Tatsumaki Senpukyaku

Dave used Timetables to fuck up DP with some DP ;D

[Deadpool]

Deadpool glanced down at the fresh laceration in his suit, and scowled. ”You fuck! After I win this tournament, you’ll be receiving my tailor’s bill! / . . . but until then--” the mercenary interrupted himself with a crisp overhand to Dave’s face, flattening the boy’s nose ”--pay your tab with a smashed grill!”

Dave staggered backwards, blood shooting from his nostrils. His turntables shattered from his lack of concentration, as he covered his face with his hands, squealing like a startled pig.  

”I see that your strength and speed have improved dramatically / but you still perform your moves haphazardly,” The mercenary spat, taking notice of Dave’s heightened powers, but also identifying his flaws--”gotta love Insight.”

Deadpool charged forward, not allowing his opponent time to recover from his last blow, or sick rhyme. He tossed his broken katana outside of the ring, and clenched the good one with both hands, flipping the edge reverse before arching it over his head to club Dave’s skull. The dull sound of steel against bone echoed throughout the vacant arena like a banged bongo in an empty hippodrome. Dave collapsed; his knees slammed into the monolithic square under him with a thud; those cool sunglasses he wore fell from his face, revealing blank eyes and twitching brows.

”That’s the thing about boosting your speed,” Deadpool began to rhyme, while retracting his katana. A creek of crimson flowed down Dave’s head, cutting between his eyebrows, before forking to the left side of his now crooked nose. ”You may be hard to hit, but when your defense is still shit, one good shot is all a prime might need.”

As the mercenary sheathed his blade, Erik’s fight grabbed his attention. His partner was a skilled psychic (or whatever the fuck his craft fell under), and respectable fighter, but found himself in a war with a battle-thirsty psychopath, who only appeared to become increasingly enthralled by every infliction handed to him. Each time Erik’s sword managed to slither past Kenpachi’s guard, the towering man would initially grunt, but then cackle, as if pain triggered some sort of underlying sexual arousal.

The might Kenpachi displayed stood beyond the capacity of a new Prime, and the conviction of his temperment couldn’t have been portrayed so immaculately by a novice narrator.

Somebody swapped characters, Deadpool deduced. Then his eyes widened with a mixture of anxiety and delight. He tried to quell his next thought, but failed: Holy shit, Baron drew Mark in the first round.

He surveyed Kenpachi more intently, examining his raw power; a lot of strength mixed with a lot of defense established the samurai as someone who could fight for days (nights, and paid holidays) before succumbing to fatigue. His brute nature was built to deal with primes that delved into solidifying their crafts--primes like Erik.  
Deadpool had to intervene. It bettered his chances of winning, and added to the lore of Dante’s Abyss.

”Sorry Lil’ DJ, but the rave is over,” the mercenary muttered as he turned his attention back to the half-conscious teenager, who still knelt, collecting his thoughts and energy (and probably struggling to remember his name, date of birth, and address, as well). ”Perhaps I’ll see you in a club someday, snorting cocaine from some strippers asscrack, while one of your duplicates brings down the house with an all-time great playlist. . . I’d like that.”

Aiming for the neck, Deadpool pivoted around and struck the boy with a turning roundhouse kick. Dave skipped between the stage’s tiles like a person ejected from a high speed vehicle collision, his body somersaulting wildly, arms and legs flapping in every direction.

”Don’t land on a crack, or you’ll break your momma’s back!” the mercenary shouted, palms curled around his mouth. Then his mask molded a grin. ”Now if you’d excuse me, your friendly neighborhood merc’ with a mouth has a date with a familiar, yet not so familiar, old buddy . . . yeah, it’s complicated.”

He turned towards Kenpachi and Erik. They still fought in the distance, clashing swords and parrying attacks. Kenpachi now began to take advantage of his lanky frame, eating space. Erik had no choice but to relinquish ground, until all that remained was the corner of the stage.

”We should probably attack now--we’re running out of words, and our partner is running out of places to plant his feet. If not, we lose--no championship, no finale, no goddamn action figure royalty check!”

Deadpool whipped out both pistols--”there we go, that’s more like it!”--, making sure to switch their fire rates to burst-fire. He raised them at Kenpachi, took aim, and then sprayed a cascade of lead towards the samurai. Brass shell casings dispensed from his guns faster than coins shooting from a broken slot machine.

WC: 848 (Google Docs)

Deadpool activated his T1 power-up (+2/+1/+0/+2 ~ 3/6/3/6) in response to Dave's
Deadpool used Insight a few times
Deadpool momentarily knocks Dave unconscious to say hi to Mark and get a little 2v1 action in on Kenpachi

[Kenpachi Zaraki]

A cacophonous chorus split the air--as well as the attention of the clashing swordsmen--as the meddling mercenary unleashed his payload, calling out to no one in-particular. Deadpool’s blather was followed soon after by a swarm of plumbic hornets planting their stingers in his enemy’s side.

“Easy there, Hemingway,” the masked mercenary jeered from across the arena. “They’re just bullets.”

Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Erik quickly cast his sights outside of the arena, instantly eyeing what he would need. As Kenpachi turned his maniac grin back toward the psion, he had but a second to react as a broken katana embedded itself into his chest.

”Oh, please tell me that counts toward my score,” Wade hollered, only to sigh as the sound of synthesizers met his ears and he felt the familiar pang of a Welsh blade tearing into his cancerous flesh. “Well, the cameo was nice while it lasted.”

“This is kinda funny to me,” Kenpachi mused, a devilish smile crossing his mug despite the ample blood drooling from the blade nested between his ribs. “You remind me a lot of the last guy who told me I wasn’t worth shit.” He paused, glancing down at the battle-worn nodachi clasped tightly in his grimy grasp as he discarded Deadpool’s blade with his free hand. “He was himself a shinigami. I murdered that guy and took this sword from him, imprinting my soul onto it. You could say that was when I became what he was, a ‘god of death’.”

“Heathen!” the zealot spat, eyes smoldering with violet fury. Emboldened by righteous indignation, Vrell hurtled toward the towering ronin, bringing his blade down with lethal intent. “You’ll not deify yourself in my presence!”

“I don’t give a shit who you pray to,” Kenpachi boomed, his giddy glee beginning to mingle with ire of his own. The shabby shinigami reached out with his free left hand and caught the psychic’s blade in his palm, seemingly oblivious to the steel tearing through his flesh and down to the bone. “Loudmouths like you who hold themselves above their enemies really piss me off. You’re not the first person to tell me that I don’t deserve to call myself a shinigami; I cut that guy down, too, hundreds of years ago, surrounded by his own men, and took his title and their respect for myself.” He wrapped his spidery fingers around the boy’s blade, gripping it tightly as he tipped his own sword toward the bloodied pile of cloth he had discarded upon the arena floor. “That jacket symbolizes my station as Captain and the name I’ve earned for myself.”

“The idolatrous beliefs of your sect are the lowest filth to me,” Erik spat, struggling against Zaraki’s grip. “I’ll bury you, heretic!”

The robed ronin’s eyes narrowed as the believer finished his harangue, in an instant leveraging his wingspan to lift the boy into the air by his sword as he delivered a grievous slash across his opponent’s belly. “The ‘Kenpachi’ title is held by a single shinigami, the strongest of their time,” he continued, tossing the boy aside. “I’ve never known a real name or family since before I clawed my way out of the gutters of the Zaraki district.” He was now almost screaming. “Everything I am, I’ve earned by tearing the throats out of pricks who think they’re above me!”

Frothing with rage of his own, the violet zealot was back on his feet in an instant, charging toward his towering foe with all of the fury afforded by his conviction. He held his sword aloft as fanged fetters unwound from his chest once more, striking out like a nest of angry cobras. Kenpachi planted his feet, taking his pick of the rusty bindings and grabbing hold as the rest ensnared his legs and sword-hand. Though a sneer crossed Erik’s face as he found his foe caught, it soon faded as the savage swordsman gave the cabling a sharp tug, dragging the diviner into range before taking hold of his head and bringing it down hard against the stone tiling.

“Back!” Vrell soon bellowed, his command cemented by another psionically-induced shriek assailing Kenpachi’s eardrums. His prayers to the madness god had granted him more than enough might and endurance to stagger the shinigami for a moment. “Now, presumptuous heathen,” Erik got to his feet and cocked his fist back as the towering swordsman regained his senses in time for an augmented fist to shatter his jaw. "Fall!”

“NO!” Kenpachi barked, delivering a savage kick to the boy’s lacerated gut that sent him skidding across the tile. His mangled maw displayed a grisly grin as he brought his sword to bear. “I’ve been called a beast, a butcher, a demon; I couldn’t care less.” He drew in a deep breath through his nose as the boy hastily steadied himself, Zaraki bringing his blade down upon the tile before Vrell had a chance to react. “But you will acknowledge me: Kenpachi Zaraki!”

850 words even, according to Google Docs.

Kenpachi used SWOOOORD.
Erik used Mageslayer, False Emperor's Sting, and Paracusia.

Using Energy Wave (Tier-I Super) on Erik. 1/5 SP remaining, though that's kinda irrelevant at this point.

[Karl Jak]

Face to Face
#12 Erik Vrell & #20 Deadpool vs #25 Dave Strider & #42 Kenpachi

The energy waved roared across the arena, but before it could slam into its target, there was a mercenary calmly standing in its path.  For the second time, Deadpool let out a grunt as the blast struck his augmented skin and blazed hot for a few moments before fizzling away.

Looking over his shoulder, Deadpool flashed a thumbs up to his partner.  “You need some of this, kid,” he remarked before a sword sank into his gut.  On the other end of the weapon, Dave sneered as he wrenched the weapon out.  The mercenary tilted his head, but before he could wax sarcastic, an identical blade in an identical set of white hand stabbed him from the other side.  With a grunt, Deadpool dropped to his knees and tilted his head as blood continued to pool on the stone surface.

Puns at a time like this? For shame.

Meanwhile, a sneering Dave took a step back and shared a fist bump with his clone before it reverted to the timestream.

Erik moved forward, a psionic bow in his hands as he took aim and fired over his companion’s shoulders.

Sneering, Kenpachi vaulted over his two adversaries and landed in a crouch behind Erik.  The psionic prime’s eyes went wide as a set of muscular arms wrapped around his waist.  A moment later, the smaller prime was being plucked off the ground and flung backwards.

Deadpool had stumbled to his feet just in time to see Erik’s head crash into the stone.  Behind the mask, the mercenary winced as Kenpachi resumed a vertical stance and kicked Erik to the grass.  “Hey, I liked him.”

A sword stabbed through Deadpool’s gut.

“And to think, I was afraid I had misplaced that.”

Kenpachi’s fist clobbered the side of Deadpool’s skull.  Seconds after that, Deadpool was lying facedown in the grass.

“Mulligan?”  He groaned as he lost consciousness.

[spoiler]

Dave Strider (2.7) & Kenpachi (3.2) defeat Erik Vrell (2.5) and Deadpool (3)

Dave Strider & Kenpachi advance to Round 2

Erik and Deadpool move to Match E of the Redemption Bracket and will face Gilgamesh and Desman

[/spoiler]