[Round 4 - C] Erik Vrell & Deadpool vs Serraph & Sasuke

[Karl Jak]

Deadpool scowled at the sight of Sasuke and Serraph.

Next to the mercenary, Erik once again felt fresh discomfort at the sight of the two other primes.  “Not again,” he mumbled beneath his breath.

“Yea, me too,” Deadpool remarked as he looked at the patched together clinic at the top of the hill.  “No mice or marines with BFGs this time, though.”

“What?”  Erik replied before his partner drew swords and casually started toward their adversaries.

Word Limit: 850
Posts: 2
Time Limit: 48 hours
Random Elements: On
Damage Meter: Off

Time limit starts at 12 pm CDT on August 1, 2018

The Clinic – The fight zone is roughly 2 by 2 acres.  From the edges of the Fight Area, the terrain gradually slopes upward, with a couple of trees here and there.  You’ll notice that it looks like a war has been fought here, because the ground is blown to hell and there are still splotches of dried blood here and there.  At the top of this hill is the remains of a humble clinic building.  For all intents and purposes, it looks like a stone clinic that a developed country would go build in a third-world nation, but the places has seen better days.  Its windows are blown apart, and the inside is something out of a horror movie.  Dried blood decorates most surfaces that haven’t been partially melted or scarred by explosives, although there are no bodies present.  It’s all very unnerving.

Stipulation:  No special stipulations

[Erik Vrell]

Erik’s eyes scanned the arena, taking in the semi-familiar sight. The place brought up fuzzy memories of Dante’s Abyss replays watched long ago, as well as no small number of grand aspirations for the tournament. The cultist had scarcely expected to be fighting in the final battleground of DA 15, but couldn't have hoped for a more exciting battlefield. 

“That's the last reaction I'd have expected from you.” Erik mused to his partner as they approached their opponents.

“Yeah… This place isn't all it's cracked up to be.” Deadpool retorted. The psychic simply grunted in acknowledgement as he drew Mageslayer and began moving towards Sasuke, only for the mercenary to yank him back. 

“Nope. Rematch time.” Deadpool announced as he shoved Erik towards Serraph and rushed towards Sasuke himself. The cultist found himself face to face with a boy who was very… White.

“You are New Babylonian, correct? I don't believe I've had the pleasure.” Erik said as the fighters circled each other, blades poised. 

“I am indeed.” Serraph responded, eyeing his opponent up. 

“Well, I'm sure you're no weakling if you got this far. Lets see what you can do.” The noble said as he bounded towards his foe. The arrancar reacted quickly, dodging nimbly out of the way of the cultist’s swing. Serraph responded with a blow of his own, slashing across Erik’s flank with Libro. The cultist took a mental note of his foe’s speed and skill as he took a couple of steps back, forced to acknowledge that he was at a disadvantage.

“Blessed father Gal’skap, lend me your divine spark so I may crush my foes.” The priest chanted as amethystine lightning burst from his eyes and crackled down his body. Violet mist coalesced in Erik’s hand as Serraph approached cautiously, forming into a coruscanting saber of blessed aether. The arrancar paused, eyeing his foe’s twin blades with caution.

The psionically charged priest stepped towards his foe, bringing both blades down on the espada. Serraph dodged, narrowly avoiding the flurry of steel and psi. Erik noted that, frustratingly, his foe was still a little quicker. His frustration deepened when Serraph disengaged and summoned up his own psi blade, peering at it curiously. 

‘Is nothing sacred in the damned place?’ Erik groaned as the arrancar experimentally swung the ethereal blade. The pair circled one another, each scouring their opponent for a gap in their form. After a few moments, Erik shifted his guard, exposing his hip to the arrancar. Serraph capitalised fully on the opening, gouging Libro deep into the cultist's flesh. Rather than flinch and struggle on the blade, however, the pain-proof priest tossed his psi blade aside and gripped Serraph’s hand, pushing the zanpakuto deep into his torso. 

A look of shock, and what Erik thought may have been curiosity, crossed the espada’s face as the noble brought Mageslayer’s hilt down on his foe’s head. Serraph yanked hard on the blade, pulling it loose, but not before the priest’s blow could glance across his face, and his surprisingly durable glasses. The arrancar, spectacles still intact, reeled as Erik advanced on him, seemingly oblivious to his new wound. Unfortunately, their glorious duel wasn't meant to be. Even as the cultist raised Mageslayer above his head, he was thrown to the ground in a burst of sound and light, and a pungent, slightly familiar door filled the air. The psychic tried to recall where exactly he had smelled the scent before, even as he lay prone. 

“Oh, witch burnings, how could I forget.” Erik sighed as the memory bubbled forth, berating himself for forgetting something so close to his heart. The priest shakily raised himself up as he glanced over his shoulder, spotting Sasuke behind him, as he had expected. 

“A sneak attack, milord?” The noble groaned as he struggled to his feet, slightly choked by the scent of his own burned flesh. “I take it that you're not a follower of chivalry, then?”

“Not really, no.” Sasuke smirked as he rushed forward and planted a fist in his subordinate's chin. Mageslayer scythed through the air towards the ninja, the whistle of steel sounding more like a mad baying for blood in its wielder’s ears. Sasuke dodged nimbly out of the way, before launching a kick into Erik’s stomach, winding the cultist.

“Come now, milord,” The psychic wheezed, his speech accompanied by the rattling of chains. “Observe the fullest extent of my power.” 

A giddy feeling rose up in Erik, even as he was doubled over, as his chains burst from his back in a fountain of gore. The cultist had focused on crushing the insect that went by ‘Desman’ so much in his fight with Gilgamesh that he had hardly proven anything to the King. Now, however, his had a perfect chance to do show his worth. Erik stumbled forward as the chains, each glowing faintly with the fireball’s heat, scythed madly in the air around their owner. 

“Now this is the weirdest hentai I've ever seen.” Deadpool quipped as his partner advanced on his faction-mates.

841/850 words
Used T1 power up psi overcharge for the round (-2 SP, 3/5 remaining)

[Serraph Quarrere]

 “Sasuke, Let me fight our comrade. There is much for me to learn here.” Serraph grinned, the blades of aether dissipating from relative existence. Sasuke nodded and split off to engage, as was the common theme of their boats up to this point,. Serraph took a moment to reflect upon the opposing teams in comparison to his own. Most teams spoke a moderate amount, but not Serraph’s. He and Sasuke held only understanding of one another. Their motivations for competing were perhaps be worlds apart, but the end result still remained the same. They had no real need for companionship, but only the strength and knowledge that came with growth.

Serraph took a step forward. In the dead of night, the full moon’s lonely light above reflected off the Former Espada. Such an effect brought a certain elegance and grace to his every motion no matter how minimal. His stature bore no hostile intent. He appeared as a child would, curious and innocent to the world around him. His eyes told a different story. Within the ageless silver eyes and deep within his soul, an insatiable hunger resided. The night and its moon called for it and drew his other from his innermost veiled depths.

Serraph could feel her at the back of his mind. Her presence grew, slowly encroaching his consciousness. Her guiding hand covering his own, she could feel the anger and thirst for battle with every beat of his hollowed heart. “It’s night again, my Seraphim. You must be awfully tired. Why don’t you sleep, my Seraphim.” Serra whispered into his ear. 

“No, not here. Restrain yourself.” Serraph gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into tightly bound fists. The warm spirit's guidance had transitioned from the warm, soft embrace to a cold and aggressive one. Invisible tendrils moved throughout his spiritual structure. “You’d aim to control me against my will?!”his mind screamed, willing his body to fight back against the oppressive force.

The change in posture was immediate. For a split second, Serraph’s form lowered, the spacing between his feet widening. A gloved hand dug into the blood-soaked soil beneath him. Erik was taken aback, immediately on guard from the change in demeanor. The telepath reached out with his mind to perhaps glean a clue as to what happened with Serraph, but Serra cut the link almost immediately after contact.

He sprung himself towards Erik, the light psionic blades flaring as they clashed. Conflicting powers sparked, singeing the ground beneath their feet. Erik pushed him away without difficulty and extended an arm out by his side. Powerful psi energy charged through the length of his fingers and flowed into space beneath them. A disk of radiant purple light flashed into existence. “Blessed father Gal’skap, guide my hand!” Erik drew back his arm.

A wicked smile stretched over Serraph’s face, tearing the fragile skin the further it stretched. His movements mirrored that of his opponent’s. Erik cried out and launched his chakram and Serraph returned in kind. Streaks of purple light tore through the darkness and collided with each other. Psionic sparks flew from the impact in a flash of brief, yet distracting light.

 When it resided, Serraph was no longer there. Up the hill, he climbed to the ominous building that topped it. The smell of blood tainted the air around it in a thick haze. Serra missed this, the rank smell of gore and bloody bits. The horrid smell put Serra at ease, and she receded back into the depths of his soul. Serraph was perplexed, but pleasantly so! Something around here had gotten his old hollow instincts riled again, and it wasn’t merely just the night sky above. No, something else was at play here.

The pale Babylonian entered the clinic, his leather shoes stepping into a puddle consisting of an unknown substance. The further he ventured into the hallway that led to the receptionist desk. A dimly lit lamp flickered, casting shadows of non-existing objects over the substance covered walls. The closer he approached, Serraph and the spirit within him could see what it was. Red ichor was splashed everywhere. It rolled down the walls like vengeful hands taking all who may enter. It dripped hungrily from the ceiling as if preparing to devour its guests. Serraph blinked, and at that moment everything he saw had changed.

The blood was dry, and the air ceased to stink of death. It was a radical transformation, leading him to believe that perhaps his mind was playing tricks on himself. Then again, maybe it was something less internal and more external. Could the deaths of what Serraph assumed to be in the hundreds if not thousands bend the space of this area? The concentration of souls chained to this location no doubt could give the old decaying clinic some terrifying characteristics.

“Interesting,” he muttered, pressing his hand against a bloodstain flaking from the wall. “Perhaps I’ll let the others fight. There is much to learn here, I feel.”

Wc: 833

[Deadpool]

The sound of clanging metal reverberated throughout the battleground, lacerating the sloping terrain’s silence. Deadpool towered over his teenage friend-emy, but did not overwhelm him. Their swords were caught in a struggle, grinding against one another as both fighters attempted to shatter one another’s blade with pure force.

“Any memories rushing back to you?” The ninja questioned, gritting his teeth. His normally ebony eyes had already transformed red; little tears danced around his pupils.

“Oh, how could I forget, Sas-bae? This is the place where all my hard work led to your championship,” the mercenary replied.

Deadpool disengaged his katana from Sasuke’s blade, then sank his heel into the boy’s abdomen, staggering him. Spit ejected from Sasuke’s mouth while he clenched for his gut with his free hand; his right hand dragged his sword across the patchy turf, carving an uneven line into it. He nearly stumbled into a kiddy pool sized crater, to the back-left of him, but skidded to a halt right before he ran out of ground.

“That’s the hole Doomguy made when he evaporated Mickey!” The mercenary said. “I think it was, at least. I was dead.”

Sasuke looked at the hole. “Yeah,” he replied, reminiscing, “and your deathbed was right outside the clinic.” His head gestured towards the abandoned building in the distance, to his right.

Deadpool’s eyes followed the ninja’s glare to the clinic. It still stood at the top of the hill; on either side, an uprooted tree fought time and gravity to stay vertical. Blood decorated the face of the building, as if vandalized by a blind man and a canister of red spray paint. The small, square windows were blown out, only retaining jagged teeth of glass around their frames.

The mercenary growled as memories of his defeat flashed to the forefront of his mind—Mickey standing over top of him, the humming of Doomguy’s BFG, the green surge of energy rushing towards him, consuming him like a deluge swallowing a kayak. They were vivid. . . almost palpable.

”I shoulda won that year,” he muttered, ”and would have, if not for you joining the ‘let’s all fight DP’ gangbang. I expected it from Mickey--he’s an honorless, self-righteous hypocrite--but not from you. ”

Sasuke scoffed. “You wouldn’t have made it beyond the first day without me. When I bumped into you, you were alone, with nothing else but a recreational toy for a weapon.”

”And you were a depressed teenager with older brother issues, lost and confused in a new world, wondering why your dick jumped every time you saw a lamp get plugged in.”

“Well here’s your chance to prove that you’re the real champion.” Sasuke grasped his sword with both hands. “But you know beating me is an uphill battle.”

”Yeah, I gotta pummel you before you pull another Nexus, and Houdini your way out of the fight,” the mercenary he quipped; a smirk creased his mask. ”And speaking of pummeling--”

Deadpool glanced at the katana in his right hand, then chucked it aside; he unsheathed his other katana and did the same; after he pressed his round belt buckle which vaguely resembled his mask, it fell from his waist, and hit the ground with a thud.

”--I’m gonna give you the rare respect of a gentleman’s fight, and beat you to death with the body Stan Lee gave me. I mean, hey, what’s a more intimate way to end someone’s life? Other than death by sex, of course, but I’m not sexually attracted to ya, buddy . . . not unless we were imprisoned together . . . then maybe, because you haven’t grown your man body yet, and are probably still feminine-looking from behind.”

WC - 635


Deadpool will not be using his weapons during this fight, for now.

Deadpool activates T1 power-up for half the round [+2/+1/+0/+2] (-2 SP ~~ 4/6 SP remaining)

[Sasuke Uchiha]

“You want a gentleman's fight?” the shinobi balked at Deadpool’s request. “The last time we were here, you were running around in nothing but your blood stained underwear.”

“Oooh yeeaa!” the mercenary moaned as he rubbed his nipples. He stopped suddenly, then pointed an angry finger at Sasuke, “and this time, you won’t have Mickey to butt-fucking save you!”

Thunder roared against howling winds, cueing the rolling of the night’s storm clouds above the ill fated clinic. A burial ground, it was drenched in the blood of countless primes; powerful primes, ones with the wherewithal to make it this far.

The primes looked to the sky and began to feel the drizzle of tiny raindrops upon their face. It was refreshing and Sasuke couldn’t help but feel reminiscent. Lightning illuminated not only the darkness of the night, but also the excitement in his face.

“I refused to fight Victor last round, you know, on the principle of it all,” thunder echoed the shinobi’s words as he descend an elbow, clashing into a shield of Deadpool’s conjoined forearms, “but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to face you!”

“Awe,” the merc gushed while steading his stagger, all the while blowing kisses, “I missed you too!” He abandoned his fighting stance and raised a finger to signify a point, “In fact, you should check Omnitwitter, I DMed you.”

“Yea, I saw that.-” the ninja began with a chuckle, but was cut off.

“Also, you should follow me on InstaOmni, I follow back. There’s a raffle on tuesdays! And, if you catch me on live streams, all Deadpool merchandise is half off. Can’t beat that! I should make a killing after I kick your ass! #Deadpool, #DeadpoolForDAChamp, #DPMyMom, #I’mGoingToKillYouNow, #ItachiTheRealHero, #WhyCan’tYouSeeThatYouPoorUngratefulLittleShitIWantToStranggleYou, #DieNow. ”  

“Cute,” that was all the shinobi had to say before slipping a jab, ducking under a cross, and landing palm strike under the masked cartilage of Deadpool’s nose. The mercenary’s face jolted upward to the sound of a thud and Sasuke’s wrist came away slick with loose saliva. The youth was surprised he made contact, but not unprepared. He performed a summersault, propelling the heel of his foot towards his opponents skull. A resounding thwack followed.

“Wait, did you say Victor?” the mercenary craned his neck out from behind his criss-cross of folded arms used to block, “The schmuck we used to get Violet banished? That guy’s still around? Lingerer!”

Sasuke arched an eyebrow and gave Deadpool a whimsical look and a chuckle, before vaulting backwards to the ground in a crouched position.

“The last time this storm came,” Sasuke looked to the sky as thunder boomed across before engaging his opponent again, “you died and I was crowned champion.”

“Yea, well,” Deadpool clamped each side of Sasuke’s head, thrusted his own head forward, and sent the youth spiraling to the wet ground below by way of a headbutt, “new year, new me!”

As the shinobi found his feet under him again, a brilliant wealth of light blinded the contestants momentarily, but it wasn’t the storm that ailed them. Illuminating Sasuke’s youthful features, the infamous lightning blade had flared to life in the ninja’s right hand. Just before the shinobi attempted to plunge Kusanagi into Deadpool’s cancer ridden body, he smirked,  “I don’t imagine you have a lightsaber on you this time, do you?”

I messed up. Thought I had more time. I dunno how I fucked it up. Sucks, but oh well. Here is what I had. >.>

I used a T2. 4/6 remaining... if this post would have counted... 

[Erik Vrell]

The old clinic was a nightmarish place. The crimson-stained walls and smell of decay permeating the air would be enough to unnerve even the bravest soldier. Erik, however, was struggling to contain the spring in his step as he hunted for Serraph.

“What a curious building.” The cultist mused as his eyes scanned the silent halls, the violet light leaking from his gaze bathing the dark corridors in an amethystine glow. The blood was foul, certainly, but he could almost feel the tormented spirits centred in the clinic. It was a strange and wonderful feeling. The psychic paused for a moment as a faint noise pierced the quiet. Could he hear… Whispering? 

“Perhaps I've been channeling psi for too long…” Erik thought to himself, trying to pinpoint the source of the muffled sound. He had been overcharged for the entirety of the last match, after all, so it was natural that some side effects would start to manifest. Undeterred, the priest redoubled his psionic charge as it started to waver. He had to be certain that Serraph wouldn't overpower him when they met. 

After far too much time scouring the clinic, Erik peered into a room and spotted his arrancar opponent. Serraph seemed to be inspecting the blood stains decorating the walls, mumbling to himself about something. The priest was tempted to leave his foe to his own devices for a moment. It pained him to interrupt such curiosity, but it had to be done. Psi spilled from Erik’s cloak, coalescing into the form of a bow. The priest was painfully aware that he could end this right now, but even as he drew back the string, doubt hung heavily over his head. There would be no honour in a kill like this. Dismissing his bow, the cultist drew Mageslayer instead. 

Serraph was roused from his inspection by the sound of footsteps. The arrancar whirled around to face his foe, Libro in hand, but wasn't fast enough to avoid the knee Erik flung towards his midsection. The blow landed heavily, knocking the wind from the pale boy. Pressing the attack, the cultist swung Mageslayer down in a brutal arc, but Serraph was able to turn the blow aside, even in his winded state. The arrancar seemed to be visibly struggling with something as he backed away, but it was obviously something Erik was not meant to be privy to. 

“Now, where was I earlier?” The cultist muttered, sheathing Mageslayer. “Ah, that's right!” 

The quiet atmosphere of the clinic was shattered by the cacophony of clanking chains, each one tearing itself hungrily from its host’s body. Serraph backed away cautiously, his face twisted into a combination of wariness and curiosity. The lowest two tendrils scraped menacingly against the floor as Erik stomped towards the arrancar, the dried blood on the floor mingling with the cultist’s own fresh ichor. 

Serraph shifted his grip on Libro, scanning his surroundings for the best way to avoid the vicious chains twisting around his foe. The jagged blades at the end of each chain dove towards their pale prey, stabbing down like half a dozen scorpion stingers as the arrancar leapt out of the way. Serraph darted across the room, nimbly dodging each of the hungry daggers as they lunged for him. 

Frustrated at the speed of his opponent, Erik’s eyes darted to a nearby overturned table. Three of the chains reached out, wrapping around the table and lifting it above their host’s head. Pausing a moment to take aim, the cultist cocked his tendrils back and hurled the table towards the arrancar. The table rocketed through the air, only to be slashed in twain by a lightning fast reaction from Serraph.  

The psychic froze for a few moments. The arrancar wasn't very strong or durable, but he was fast and incredibly skilled. If Erik was even going to lay a finger on him, he needed a plan. Fortunately for the cultist, inspiration soon struck in the form of a chakram racing towards him. Even as he began to move his chains to intercept the razor-sharp ring, his elder-addled brain worked overtime, formulating a hasty strategy that might give him an edge.

The chakram hit hard, biting into Erik’s chest and knocking him to the floor. Serraph raised Libro cautiously, waiting for a counter attack that never arrived. After a few moments of silence, the noble still hadn't risen. The arrancar edged closer, keeping Libro cautiously raised. The cultist’s chest was utterly still. Sighing in relief, Serraph turned and started to go back to his investigation, only for his thoughts to be shattered by the clanking of chains.

Before the arrancar could react, a cruel steel tendrils shot out and wrapped itself around his torso, binding his arms to his sides. Erik climbed to his feet with an equally cruel grin, his psi-infused glare staring deep into Serraph. The chain tightened itself around its prey, sinking it's barbs deeper into his papery form.

“No more running.” The cultist growled, his chain starting to reel the arrancar in.

841/850 words
Used psi overcharge for the rest of the fight (-2 SP, 1/5 remaining)