Counter the Attack above You

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Stan Rodriguez

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By pure instinct Stan moon walked just out the way of the strike, the optics in his suit analyzing the force of the blow. Seeing numbers that a human shouldn't have been able to produce he ran away as his suit bent light around him to make him invisible to the naked eye. Where he would dive into a nearby body of water. Charging up the remaining energy his suit had, he blasted again the red and yellow beams piercing their way into the outside primed for its next target.

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Dreadstroke

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Dark deftly propelled himself across the cityscape, soaring directly through the luminescent beams without the slightest of worry passing over features. A loud POP resounded from his hypersonic form, and he drove both fists forward to aerially slam into the his opponent's torso, expelling a cone of force that sent a tremor rippling through the concrete.

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Scoundrel

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The mans attack seemed rudimentary in form and style but the effect was far from it. With a simple thrust of both fist forwards the man created a force of nature so powerful that the mere wind from it was enough to send a rippling effect across the street, ripping through the hard concrete like it was nothing. As logic would dictate the best way to counter such an attack would be to avoid it completely and as such the Scoundrel went into action. By shifting his body weight and center of gravity, he leaned backwards in able to start a somersault motion that would began flipping his body away, then all he had to do was ride the concussive force of his enemies brutal attack, like a proverbial tumble weed blowing in the wind until safely out of harms way.

Unfortunately the ride was not an easy one, as his body slammed and banged against ever solid object along the way, to the point he felt it would have been better to have let the man hit him in the first place. But just as soon as the rippling effect began to die down, the Scoundrel finished his flipping motion with a perfect two point stance, leaving him standing up right, twenty yards from where he started, facing his enemy head on! With a taunting wink behind his mask he shouted, “Is that all you got?” then reached into his utility belt with both hands pulling out eight ‘S’ shaped razor sharp throwing stars, with one held tightly in between each one of his fingers. Cocked and ready, he activated the computer in his mind and ran a Shuriken program and in less than a second he was a master of the skill. Then with peak human speed and accuracy he flung his arms forwards releasing the throwing stars, with each one perfectly aimed at non lethal target points that would still incapacitate a human being .

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Dreadstroke

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#904  Edited By Dreadstroke

Acting without conscious thought, Dark brought forward his gloved palm and seized the razor projectiles with his telekinetic will, leaving them suspended a mere few meters from him, as though time itself had succumbed to the will of the fell knight and frozen those shurikens there. A moment later they fell to marble floor with a clatter, glinting off the sunlight streaming through the panes.

The very same hand cupped into a choke, dark eyes swiveling over to his next opponent as he sought to exert telekinetic pressure on their throat, a grip that would grow ever tighter as his hand began to ball into a tyrant's fist. A fell choke, if you will.

He couldn't help but smirk, the corners of his mouth curling at the deadly force he held in a simple gesture.

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Soliton

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Her eyes widened in nearly horror as she felt what was functionally an invisible hand around her throat clench and crush her. Within moments, she was on her knees.

Energy within her whirs, and her thoughts dwindle her consciousness as a lack of bloodflow and oxygen causes her vision to flicker in and out of tune with the real world. Tangible thought became more and more difficult, as Amani became more accustomed to impulse, to instinct. And yet, everything within, even near the brink of death, screamed to not take life. To not kill, unless needed. But her enemy was powerful. And she, was desperate.

Gigawatts of energy surged within her body as electrons were not projected but contained. Her own body manipulating ambient electromagnetic forces to release something both less lethal. Her glowing eyes clench and she opens her, as if to yell, but no breath came from her mouth. Her body however, had no issue emitting an omnidirectional, intense flash of light, Gigawatts of power pumped into light so powerful as to reach temperatures of 500% and achieve the lumosity of star. Here intention was to blind her opponent and cause his focus to at the very least, wane from temperatures sufficient to boil the water from his skin. Until he let her go.

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Dreadstroke

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#906  Edited By Dreadstroke

It was like staring into the heart of the sun, an experience Dark knew all too well. The heat was that of a summer breeze, a warmth that humans might equate to sitting by a fire in an all too bitter forest. Or maybe it was more akin to a sauna, or a Jacuzzi. He didn't know. He didn't care. All he knew was that he didn't feel the heat that would've done in myriads of other superhumans, but regardless, the attempt was enough to get him to release.

His head inclined in vague intrigue, gloved fist uncoiling as he released telekinetic choke at the whim of mercy. His finger twitched and the silver and black hilt of his Starsaber flew into his hand. A clicked a button and uncanny whirrrrr sounded from the elegant metal device, heralding the emergence of a crimson and white blade comprised of energy.

With a single hand he brought it forward in a sideward arc that threatened to slash his opponent clean in half at the waist if not countered, the blade humming wonderfully in its use.

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deactivated-59c71a5928800

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(Yes, I'm gonna counter my own attack)

Moving faster than he'd believed possible of him, Sorion ducked under the blazing slash that cast a scarlet luminescence over the snow. Snow crunched beneath his frame as he rolled through immaculate mounds of it, flecks of it speckled through his mahogany curls. Grasping the obsidian hilt of his ninjato, he drew in a swift, able motion that threatened to cleave his opponent apart at the waist.

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Contingency

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Contingency casually parried the incoming strike with her index finger and let out a sarcastic yawn before turning her attention to her next opponent "See you in the next world" she commented calmly as she instantly transmitted to the moon and dropped to a knee. As she held her breath in this airless atmosphere she rapidly extended her leg and propelled herself towards the location of the continent her foe was on whilst destroying half the surface of the moon as a result from just her leaving the moon.

She struck the surface of the earth with enough force to shatter a continent into a million pieces and over penetrated to the opposite side of the planet and destroyed that continent too, not only were the continents annihilated but so was the natural balance as various 'natural' disasters manifested rapidly including the activation of super volcanoes and country wiping tidal waves.

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Scoundrel

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Well, this looks like the end!” That was all Conrad could think of as the world around him was dying. It was like something out of Revelations as the very ground below shook and skies above turned dark. But Conrad wasn’t going to sit this one out, if no one else was going to stop the end of all life on Earth,... he would! With no chance of stopping the actual destruction, his best bet would be to take out the cause. It was there high up in the sky, a lone figure of a woman hovering over the world, almost as if watching the carnage she created. With no other choice, he began phasing his body in and out of flux until he was no more than a pale form, so vaporous that he was basically unseen. But for what he planned next, he continued to force his transition even further past his pain threshold until all his humanity was gone, and he was left no more than...... a ghost!

With the aide of invisible shields, the only thing he could touch in his present form, he created a series of stairs leading him upward to his prey, and one by one he drew closer. Despite the harsh winds whipping around him he managed to struggle onward, as he continued to hold his shields in place as though facing off against the wind force of a class five hurricane, pounding against him. But against all odds he forged on, until reaching equal distance of the girl and at that point he let nature take over. At the moment of contact, his ghostly presence over took her consciousness, and with a glazed look in her eyes, he possessed her body and soul. Now in his new body, he reveled in the sheer limitless powers he now possessed and by utilizing them for good, he dove head first into the task of repairing Mother Earth and thus saving all man kind. Not bad for a Scoundrel!

With every thing now back to normal, and back in his own body, he found himself standing face to face with an opponent [YOU] in a dark alley twenty yards apart. Above them a dim moonlight shone down adding an eerie glow to the area as off in the distance cats could be heard howling. Out of character, he saw the lone figure as a threat and as such he activated the combat program in his head and moved in to attack. Moving at a peak human speed, he ran forward closing the distance between them, with his right hand cocked and ready to strike. Then for a bit of bravado, he accessed a parkour program and instead of charging in head first, he pushed off from the ground long enough that for a few three or four steps he ran across the wall, landing on top of a closed dumpster, then leap off diagonally, with his right foot proceeding him aimed at his enemies head!

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Dreadstroke

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#910  Edited By Dreadstroke

Paradigm reacted without conscious thought, reflexively bringing his circular, star spangled shield above his head as his enemy's right foot came smashing down onto the cold metal like a peak human hammer. A sharp clank of metal and the demigod roughly shoved the man's leg off his shield.

Whirling around, he locked eyes on the next opponent, adrenaline surging through his veins as his grip on the shield's leathery strap tightened for a moment.

Three tons of force. A disc construct with the uncanny durability of vibranium and the unparalleled sharpness of adamantium. Paradigm grit his teeth as he briefly imagined the pain to be inflicted on his opponent, and hurled his shield at [your] torso with as much strength as he could muster....

No Caption Provided

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Mooty_Pass

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With my overwhelming body fat it Tank and take the blow to my chest absorbing it and firing it back doubling the speed of the vibranium shield.

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Dreadstroke

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#912  Edited By Dreadstroke

Paradigm's heart skipped a beat, the scene panning out as though in slow motion. He moved instinctively, clenching his fist as he seized control over the shield telekinetically, freeznig its rapid momentum with a fast reflex of his own, the edges mere inches from his torso. Heart beating fast, he grasped the leathery handle, bringing the shield up in front of him.

He didn't dare allow it to leave his hands once again, not yet, anyway. With his free hand, he tugged an M3 grease gun from his belt. His hands coiled around the grip, a finger tickling the trigger as he thrust his free arm out from behind the shield. He pulled.

Bullets tore out of the barrel, piercing through the air towards his next opponent's kneecap. A devastating shot it would be, were the bullets to connect. Enough to put most out of commission, leaving them crippled and bleeding out, but with a greater chance of survival compared to a headshot.

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Icefire_Outlaw

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I dropped to one knee, lowering the wings around my body. After the Shadow deflected the bullets, I drew Zero and aimed straight for my opponent's chest. The blast would paralyze, perhaps permanently damaging some epidemic tissues. Without regretting what I was about to do, I pulled her trigger.

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Backstabber

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@icefire_outlaw:

His mind was a total blank, except for a few dozen explicit thoughts as his eyes were locked on the vivacious woman’s breast. He was so wrapped up staring at her Ta-Ta’s that the world could be burning around him and he wouldn’t even know. All he could do, was dream of her naked jumping up and down holding two cheep bottles of Rot-Gut, one in each hand. But all that changed when he saw her pull out a weapon and aimed it right at him!

Immediately he shouted back “What, I kept my zipper up and besides I kept my thoughts respectful!” But no matter what he said or didn't say, she had already pulled the trigger and let her weapon do the talking for her. Within the time it would take a man to blink, a blast flew towards him unlike anything he had ever seen before and definitely with more punch than he wished to receive. But as with all projectile weapons, they are mere toys against a man that can see the target even before being fired.

Using his mutant abilities, his minds eye, had already seen where her blast would hit and instinctively leapt out of the way, hiding his tight a$$ tucked up in red tights, behind the safety of the nearest item big enough to save him. Immediately he drew both his guns as he shouted back in response, “What are you shooting at me for? Did I knock you up and never call back? Cause it couldn’t be me I always wear protection......or at least most of the time!” But instead of waiting for a response, he jumped out from behind his shelter and proceeded to fire off two shots, one from each gun. But in true Backstabber form, the cheap ammo he bought over the Internet, popped and fell out of the barrel like the duds they were. Frustrated to no end he shouted “Not again!” as he through a fit of epic proportion, until he recognized he was still in a fight.

With no other option, he picked up a large rock in his hands and with the use of his mutant ability, saw the perfect shot right in the persons private area. After a quick cocking of his arm he let the rock fly with a speed that would rival even the fastest bullet, and with even more punch. But after letting it fly he thought to himself how wrong it was to aim there even if the target was or was not a woman. Either way he prepared to hear a loud scream of pain and a quick end to his fight.

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Dreadstroke

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#915  Edited By Dreadstroke

The rock hurtled through the air, faster than the average bullet and quite larger. It was far less than an alabaster streak, so fast that no average human could dream of evading it. And where it was aimed? Beyond capable of putting any average person out of commission (and preventing a family from being born). However, it was with a loud clank of metal, a lightning fast whirl of red, white, and blue, and a hail of pebbles littering the concrete that Paradigm batted it to the side, one hand coiled around the godshield's leathery strap, the other still clutching his M3 Grease Gun.

He cocked it with a single hand, the clip sliding into place. A finger caressed the trigger, and this time he aimed the barrel at his opponent's ribcage. Rooted to the spot by his own resolution he pulled, unblinking as the gun sounded and bullets tore through the silent air towards the designated target. A more lethal shot than the last, intended to puncture deep into tissue and muscle; to pierce and shatter through bone till it left the body through the opposite side...or remained embedded.

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Scoundrel

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The enemies speed with the gun was amazing. Within seconds not only did he draw his“M3 Grease Gun”, but cock it, fire it, and also aim it perfectly at the Scoundrel’s ribcage. Even the way the man held his unique weapon was a clear sign he was an expert in its usage. Unfortunately Conrad was not so well off. Caught completely off guard, his chance of survival was at a low, with no time to upload a combat program in his head. Instead, he acted off impulse and as such raised his hands upward in a protective manner. In doing so, his mutant gene was activated and as such a small thin sliver of an invisible shield, just large enough to cover his frame, materialized just a few feet in front of him. Now in place , each and everyone of the bullets flying in his direction, hit the invisible force field and without a “Thud” or “Slam” collided and immediately fell to the floor. Dented and damaged, the shells lied there harmless, except for a lingering smell of gunpowder still hovering in the air.

In retaliation, he needed to get in closer, close enough to get his hands on his enemy [YOU] and give him/her a well overdue butt whooping! Running forwards at peak human speed, he charged forth, while quickly uploading a combat program in his head, and became a full fledge master in the blink of an eye. Now bobbing side to side, in case of any more incoming gun fire, he waited to the last second, just before reaching his target, to put his plan in motion. With a simple shift in his weight, proceeded by a push off from his feet, he leaned forward and preformed a perfect tuck and roll, ending up as a small ball at the feet of his enemy. Going with his momentum, he exploded upwards, like a fire cracker, leaping to his feet with his right hand leading the way. If lucky his strike would collide with the lower jaw of his adversary, hopefully knocking the person unconscious, or at least off his/her feet!

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MisterKrusher

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Prepared for combat, Mister K. placed his feat in a fighting stance with his fists cocked and ready. Being the skilled fighter he was, he kept his eyes locked on his enemies tales looking for any sign as to where the man’s attack would come from. Although his adversary was fast, a head on assault usually proved ineffective unless the attacker had the advantage of size and strength. But as Mister K was several pounds heavier and a few feet taller, he felt confidant in his tactical advantage. However his opponent was clever, and at the last second dropped down into a ball and preformed a perfect tuck and roll, countering any defensive move Mr. K had planned in retaliation. Then to make it worse, just as his enemies rolled up right under his feet, in an incredible display of acrobatics the man exploded upwards with his right hand leading the way. With less than seconds to react, Mr. K instinctively pulled back, shifting the location of his chiseled jaw inches away from the blow, so that his enemies fist flew by missing its mark. But it was still close enough that he could feel the hair on the mans knuckles as they grazed by his face.

Now seeing the man as a legitimate threat, Mr K decided to end the fight and end it quickly. Standing some twenty yards apart, in the middle of a dim lit street he began by slamming his foot down hard upon the concrete, creating not only a low level shock wave but a large crack under his shoe. Immediately, the crevasse spread out towards his enemies in a zig zag pattern, ripping through the road while setting off all car alarms and fire hydrants along the way. Still not finished, he used the fissure as a distraction, as he made his way to the nearest abandoned car for his next attack. With the greatest of ease, he grabbed hold of a blue 2016 Dodge with his right hand, and after lifting it off the ground, hurled it across the street in his enemies direction. In less than seconds 4,000 pounds of twisted steel would come crashing down on his opponent, whom he could only assume was still distracted by the ground shaking beneath him.

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MonstersAndMen

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#918  Edited By MonstersAndMen

Marcus had no idea why he chose to fight this man or why he had any clue as to why he would win. As the ground began to shake and he started to lose his balance, Walker knew he was screwed as he saw the huge man pick up a car and throw it at him.

Good bye cruel world.

As he got slammed by the force of the car, it felt as if he was......not slammed at all? Looking around, he saw the car bent and falling to the ground his body unharmed. A blue-ish glow, an aura, began to grow around and on his body.

You're screwed, buddy.

Using his newfound strength, he picked up the same car with relative ease and with all the energy he could muster, he threw the same car right back at his opponent at speeds around hundreds of miles per hour. Whoever got hit with this was surely going to die, since Marcus wasn't holding back.

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Maverick_6

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"Ho boy..."

His fist clenches at his side, audbile cracks as he watches the man pick up the car thrown towards him in slow motion, before he sees the car hurled towards him at hundreds of miles per hour. At 300 miles per hour, a 3,000 lb projectile would have a kinetic energy equivilent of a 4502.8464238 ton impact. Not something Promethius would wanna get hit by indeed. So, he reached behind him, pulling out a large 70 pound Minigun, filled to the brim with air burst ammunition, taking holding of hit with his arm. The Gecko like Van-Der-Waals force anchors him to the ground like a mounted turret, turning the AI in synchronization with his body into Maverick's ultimately humanoid firing platform.

"Oh no. There is a car flying at me!" Prometheus shouts sarcastically, feigning being threatened as the minigun spins, the iconic whirring echoing through the air. Prometheus' ears twitched, and his ears idly acquired his target. A gentle trigger squeeze and the gun roars to life, sending fifty bullets down range at the flying vehicle with one hundred percent accuracy to where the walking phanlax aimed. Every twitch in his carbon nanotube musculature contributed to the utter negation of the weapon's recoil, turning the weapon into a laser beam of lead with a continuous distortion of air aimed along the car, each bullet ripping through the vehicle with ease. He aims the street in such a way as to strike the car in a neat line.

And with the minigun, Prometheus cuts the car in half mid air.

The air resistance acts on the structure of the aerodynamic vehicle the two pieces coming apart violent and spreading apart as the frame gives way. Prometheus already begins to put the minigun away as the two pieces of the car fly harmlessly behind him, the engine rupturing and causing an enormous explosion behind the cyborg that warrants no significance to him at all.The lone robotic figure standing there unflinchingly

"Seriously. Guys. If somebody throws ONE MORE car. Seriously. People need those to get around. How would you feel if someone took the house you worked for ten years to pay off and then someone came by and smashed it to bits? Gosh."

Prometheus got into the stance of an athlete, his body hunched over, his rear leg extended out, front leg bent and ready to take the first step to the enemy's ass kicking. He explodes forward, literally, lleaving behind a crater in his wake, every step in his long stride he takes leaving his imprint in the ground. He crosses hundreds of feet in a matter of not even a second, as he takes a leap nimbly towards the skyscraper, jumping off it as if a rebounding pin pong ball before he raises his fist and comes down, gaining more speed. Falling faster and faster.

Until....

Boom.
Boom.

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Scoundrel

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Instantly the mans joke about cars got to him, to the point he was grinning ear to ear under his mask. It sounded like a comment he would have made, and almost wished for an opportunity to use it himself. But unfortunately, in combat it pays more to stay alive than getting in a good quip. Passing on the chance to applaud, he decided to take the fight serious, especially because he had no prior knowledge of his enemy, or his abilities, and because of that the man posed a bigger threat. Not knowing what to expect, he ran a tactic program in his head, glossing over unarmed long range assault, built of the premise his enemy still looked ready to attack, as well as he put away his own gun. Within seconds his thoughts were filled with scenarios, with the majority of them being blitzed by a speedster. Going on the luck of a scoundrel, he dug his feet into the ground to brace himself as he prepared to counter whatever attack was about to come.

As planned his enemy took off, moving so fast that Conrad lost sight, disappearing leaving behind only a strong gust of wind and a rumbling of granite rock from where he pushed off. With less than seconds to react, Conrad based a plan of retaliation based only on his enemies last move, specifically that the mans act was one of leaping upward not forward. With this in mind, he deduced the incoming attack would be from above, and coming in fast. With a quick, “Come and get it!” he raised his hands over his head and with a thought created wave after wave of invisible shields all in the hopes they would protect him.

Coming in fast like a comet, his enemy fell fast, followed by a ever increasing wail. Leading with his fist first, Conrad finally caught a glimpse of his adversary falling just as he was about to collide with the top levels of his shield. With one loud ‘Crash’ his foes fist crashed through the first few, shattering them to pieces, littering the streets with multiple invisible shrapnel. Still falling at an alarming rate, the enemies fist continued downwards where it broke the middle levels in half, splitting them wide open where they fell apart like the ones above. Finally he reached the last few remaining levels, that through force of will, managed to hold with only a few cracks around the point of contact. Exhausted from the stress of maintaining so many shield Conrad dispersed the remaining few just before he dropped to a knee to catch his breath.

Not done yet, he quickly reached for his quarterstaff safely tucked away in his boot, and with a flick of his wrist, extended it to its full length. Still fighting through the his fatigue, he ran another combat program in his head and immediately began a proficient ritualistic display of moves accustom to the usage of such a weapon. Around and around he spun around his body, building up speed and momentum with ever spin, to the point it was becoming a lethal weapon. But not planing to killing his adversary, he instead moved in close for a crippling effect. Keeping his eyes locked on his enemy [YOU], he began spinning the staff around until it reached a point where it was positioned rising up for the enemies feet. Then with a little bit of excess force, he continued to bring it upwards to where a blunt end or the weapon would come up striking against his foes lower jaw, smashing it into pieces, and claiming another victory

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Windbreaker

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The mans skill was amazing. Not many men could rest at the feat of another and still come out with a life threatening attack. All Wilson could see, was the blunt end of a quarterstaff rising upwards towards his exposed chin. By now it was inches away, closing in with every second with the wind whistling around it. Soon to collide, there was no time left to counter or deflect, all he could do was shift his weight and hopefully lean out of the way before having his jaw smashed to pieces. Using all his years of training, and athletic ability, he managed to tilt his jaw line just enough so that when his enemies strike continued, it passed by missing him by a hair. However, as his enemy was fast and highly trained in the use of his weapon that it traveled by with enough force that he could feel the ends of his chin hairs get brush by as it passed across his face.

After a brief breath of relief, he quickly got his head back in the game, and pushed off from the ground with both feat. Then, by use of his ability to manipulate wind he levitated himself into the sky just a few stories up, so that he would be out of harms way, but still close enough to see his pray. “Nice move, but try this one!

With the raising of his arms, a brisk wind began to blow around his enemy [You] who was still resting below on the streets of some abandoned alley. In less than a second the wind began spinning faster, blowing away all the garbage and litter resting outside its force. Again the wind blew faster this time at the right speed for Wilson’s attack, for the wind was spinning at such a speed and velocity, that it created a wind tunnel around his foe, cutting off all oxygen inside it’s realm. Soon, very soon, his enemy would be suffering from asphyxiation, and if planned correctly, pass out on the floor with no fuss. Either way, Wilson chuckled slightly to himself, “That’s the way the wind blows!

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WollfMyth209

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"I don't need air" said mild-mannered Bob Peterson, who in truth was the superhero from another planet known as Noice-Man.

Noice-Man quickly changed into his outfit and flew into the sky where he unleashed eye-beams that could vaporize half a city and aimed them directly at you.

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Contingency

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Contingency summons Juggernaut Shield and raises it above her head, the shield defends her from the blast perfectly whilst still destroying the environment around her. Now standing on a slim ledge surrounded by magma she focuses on her next imponent and attempts to instantly expand a one kilometer forcefield inside her foes body.

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WollfMyth209

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#924  Edited By WollfMyth209

In the instant the attack is used, Bob Peterson uses a power that I just made up this very moment to turn back time to before the attempted attack... Then throws a baguette at you.

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StraightShot

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#925  Edited By StraightShot

Flynn stood strong, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. His bow up and armed, holding the string back next to his cheek. Judging by his enemies body language, he was about to throw an object of limited size forward with the same skill level as a master of its trade. But it wasn’t until seconds after it was launched that Flynn got a good look at the object in question. There, flying through the sky towards his face, was none other than a loaf of bread, with its harden crust leading the way. Oddly enough It wasn’t glowing with energy or ticking like a time bomb, nor was it full of gas, or even leading with a sharp edge at the end. All in all it seemed nothing more than toasted bread with a soft layer of flour. But in a world were umbrellas and playing cards can be life threatening objects, it seemed wiser for Flynn to avoid the bread at all cost.

Without a second thought, he released his grip on his bow string, letting a single titanium tip arrow fly across the battle field at inhuman proportions. Like a bolt of lighting it soared through the air quickly closing the distance between itself and the baguette, with a whistling sound as it traveled. Then, in what should have been a glorious act of defusing the threat in which the baguette should have exploded on contact, the arrow simply collided with the bread and sent it flying back to where it came from.

Slightly confused, he took a second or two to wrap his mind around the idea he was attacked with bread before retaliating. But after years and years of training, he systematically reached back to his quiver, ever ready to draw an arrow at a seconds notice. With his keen eagle eye, he looked out across the battlefield to see his enemy [YOU] standing in an abandoned street next to a 2016 red Pontiac grand prix, with white rims. Wasting no time, Flynn quickly pulled a flare arrow from his quiver, and in one fluid motion, struck it across the ground to ignite the tip, then laid it across his bow and fired. Utilizing his highly advanced skill, the arrow soared across the street in a bright blur, until it collided with its target, the Pontiac's exposed gas tank. If all went according to plan, the car would explode into a huge fire ball, sending shards of shrapnel in every direction, hopefully eliminating the threat of his enemy. In the meantime, Flynn made it his point to get as far away from the explosion as he could, by launching a grappling hook arrow towards the nearest roof top to make his escape.

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Maverick_6

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#926  Edited By Maverick_6

There he was, just walking over to his car in the middle of the street. The CEO of Maverick incorporated. He stood at his 201, red Pontiac Prius before something pierced the hood and lodged itself in his car. Not enough to set the impact off on it's own, the enemy was smart enough to use an additional incendiary, which ignited all the fuel in the gas tank and caused the car to promptly and spectacularly explode in his face from an arm's reach way.

His key had been melted, and smouldered. Ambient objects got blown back and shrapnel riddled the entire area for dozens of feet at velocities lethal to most people on earth. Most.

There Bold stood, in the exact same spot he was when the car blew up. Staring blankly at what remained of his car. Slowly, he turns towards his aggressor, doing nothing for a couple of moments before he takes a cigarette out, lighting on the smouldering remains of what was his vehicle.

"Alright son. Here's the deal."

Inhale. Exhale. A puff of smoke exits his mouth.

"I'll give you t'ill the end of this cigarette to get away from here, before I obliterate you on the spot."

He takes the cigarette back into his mouth. Inhale. Exhale. He looks off to the sky for a moment, trying to take a moment to take in the city, the burn slowly creeping along the cigarette. After two minutes, it hits the bud, a bit of ash crumpling to his lip.

"Times up, son."

(Outgoing Transmission)

(Bold) Olympius Coordinates.

(Olympus) Yes Mister Bold sir.

He gets told the relative direction of where the guy is. Maybe they're there, standing right near him. Or maybe the heeded his advice. Didn't make much difference to him.

In between his fingers, he aligns the finished cigarette on his thumb and flicks it, at somewhere within the realm of speeds akin to the speed of light. Instantly, the forces of the cigarette impacting the air at such speeds not meant for any atmosphere, causes both of them to shatter utterly. The molecules are ripped apart into base atoms. Atoms? They shattered upon the force of Bold's flick. Fundamental particles such as protons? His smashed them into quarks and produced generous amounts of quark gluon plasma all about, flying around for miles all around.

Functionally, he had turned the cigarette and surrounding air into a directed nuclear bomb with temperatures that didn't really exist within the universe for prolonged periods of time. The center of the fire cone went to temperatures in the trillions, and the rest out to a couple of miles were in the millions. Gamma Rays ripped apart molecular bonding as concrete and steel all around him flashed instantly into hot, molten plasma. Blastwaves toppled buildings for dozens of miles after that, and the light, blaring in on space satellites, blinded anyone who looked at from hundreds.

Bold is later seen, departing the scene, reaching into his coat to pull out an unharded and in tact pack of premium cigars, only extending his hand over the molten magma for a second to light up for a second before he he continues to walk of with his hands now in his pockets. Lips pursed to keep the cigar held snugly in pursed lips.

Inhale. Exhale.

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StraightShot

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@maverick_6: Wow ! I just had to say it, that was one Hell of a post, I applaud.

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Maverick_6

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StraightShot

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@straightshot: Thanks man!

No Problem, and that was also one Hell of an attack! Just how is a fellow suppose to survive that????

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Maverick_6

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#930  Edited By Maverick_6

@maverick_6 said:

@straightshot: Thanks man!

No Problem, and that was also one Hell of an attack! Just how is a fellow suppose to survive that????

1. Be God tier

2. Be Adaptable

3. Be Smart

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LordDamian

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#931  Edited By LordDamian

Dr. Harald Christian Theodor Bohr slowly walks through the street. He deliberately goes to his new patient, a young woman from a good family, suffering from episodes of paranoid schizophrenia. This is not his usual case. But the grandfather of the girl is Harald's old friend and fellow brother of the Rose Cross.

Harald stops suddenly. Intuitively, he is sure that he would die a horrible death in a moment. None of his spell, no magic trick or cajoling will help him. His whole body flooded with panic and sweat. The energy of life revolves against the inevitable end. His instincts, emotions, personality, ego... everything screaming for attention, desperately trying to find a way to survive or at least to avenge this act of brutal violence.

Inhale. Exhale. Peace.

When raging inferno came, Harald smiled the last time and looked directly at the epicenter of the explosion. What a wonderful spectacle. First, the gamma ray hit his body, destroying it at the cellular level. Every cell is breaks down, even the brain is irretrievably impaired. Then came a flash of blinding light. The lights so bright, that no human eyes can look at it twice. When the thermal flash came, his clothes, hair, beard and eyebrows began to burn and eyeballs melt. His eardrums and lungs ruptures and layer after layer his skin and flesh is striped. Brain and all water in his body boils and evaporates. His whole body is melted and ignites in a flash of bright flame. Finally, a shock wave came, brakes his skeleton like a giant sledge hammer.

Harald died. He defended himself by not responding to violence by violence. His last thought and act belongs to You.

I send you all good, what I have gathered for my whole life. Love and compassion.

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StraightShot

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With a tear in his eye he stood over the grave of a great man. The fallen was not a hero for saving a man’s life or thwarting some crime, he was a hero simply believing in a cause, a cause for peace. With his last dying act the deceased stood up for his principals to not use violence and though he died in a horrific manner, his legend of pacifism will not be forgotten. He lived and died as a beacon of hope in a world filled with anger and violence, and although Flynn never met the man, he felt moved to say a few words over his grave. Beginning with a soft toss of a rose, he clears his throat, “To the dearly departed Dr. Harald Christian Theodor Bohr, we gather around you as people in accord. Your death, though saddens us, was a act of bravery far beyond any man among us. I can only hope that your path of peace will not only guide us, but all mankind into a better era!

With that said he wipes away a single tear from across his cheek and questions his own morals. Although he considered himself a peaceful man, the blood of several men stained his hands. In his heart he considered them justified, for one reason or another, but the fact was he was a highly skilled and trained....Killer! But as oddly as it may seem he felt good about it. For it was men like him that protect the pacifists like the deceased, and neither could exist without the other. With that in mind he step back into the crowd of mourners, then ever so carefully made his exit while the rest sobbed into their handkerchiefs.

It was then he saw the silhouette of a shady figure, resting just a few yards away, in a wooded area, just outside the cemetery, hidden among the trees. On any other day Flynn would have simply ignored this oddity and moved on, but the question of why a man would hide at a pacifists funeral stuck in his head. Out of character, he impulsively draws two arrows and lays them across his bow. Then with a skillful hand, he lets go sending the two arrows out and across the way. But out of respect for the recently departed, he did not fire his arrows to kill, but rather incapacitate. For between the two arrows was a small, but stronger than steel cord and as the two arrows flied they were positioned so that it was the cord and not the arrow that would strike his target. In effect, if the cord were to strike properly., it would cause a chain reaction where the cord would be forced to wind around the individual several times, and ensnare them in a dense, stronger than steel cord, like an advanced form of a bolas. Then, just to make sure the individual would not slither away, as the last of the cord wrapped around, the two arrows at each end would lodge into one of the larger tree trunks, trapping his target there for good. Then and only then Flynn would approach and find the answers he was looking for, beginning with, “And who might you be?

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Stan Rodriguez

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Patri always thought of his power more of a curse than anything, especially since he liked being right on anything. Alas he couldn't or at least not say it out loud as the universe would go out of its way to prove him wrong, and for him to always and only be wrong. Funnily enough the only good thing to go for him today was nearly dying in a giant fire cone, with his constant muttering of the phrase 'i'm going to die' saving him just so he could be wrong.

"Well its not like I can be assaulted in this abandoned area now." And as the words left his mouth, he felt wire of stell carried by two arrows wrap it self around him.

"I'm getting loose." The bounds got tighter with the aid of two arrows.

"OH COME ON!"

"And who might you be?"Oh no, oh no no no no no no

"The biggest coward you'll ever know." Patri said as he tried to weasel his way out of the chains, feeling the one thing that made him stand on even ground with anyone, a firearm. I think I have a chance yes come on, come on just come out let me grip and I'll shoot myself out and run away away way way.

"Ah dang it didn't work, my gun won't come out because these damn steel cord things are too tight."

"Wrong again, stupid" He felt the universe say as the steel cords came loose, and as did his gun, but it feel too near the person that attacked him for comfort. So he did what he did best, and run away like a big big coward.

"At least I'm not shot." Patri said as he thought he had gotten away. BANG, and thus he reeled over in agonizing pain. While he did, what he didn't see was the bullet ricocheting off towards a less than safe space

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StraightShot

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Trapped like a rat, Flynn approached his prey, confident in the knowledge his enemy was strapped to a tree, unable to move. As always his inquisitive nature was peaked and as such he greeted his enemy face to face with the only question on his mind, "And who might you be?" But over all his years of training, and all his years of studying, never would he expected the answer, "The biggest coward you'll ever know." Immediately Flynn’s grip loosened around his bow, as his face took on a perplexed expression. His stern and professional body language now screamed bewilderment and confusion. So much he failed to notice the cowards struggling as he tried reaching for his revolver, hidden away for just such a moment. But then for some ungodly reason things took an even weirder tone, as the coward spoke up again, this time declaring, "Ah dang it didn't work, my gun won't come out because these damn steel cord things are too tight."

At the mere mention of the word gun, Flynn jumped into action. With peak human speed, he raised his bow with a single titanium arrow laid across it. His right hand fingers pulling back tight on a string ready to release at a seconds notice. Although the cowards hands were still empty, Flynn looked him up and down looking for any sign of his gun or at least where he hid it. But just as his eye strolled down a voice unlike any he had ever heard before, resonated from out of nowhere with a sound of complete and total confidence, shouted, "Wrong again, stupid!" Immediately Flynn began looking in every direction, surveying every detail as he looked for the source of the voice. The tip of his arrow following his eye line as he missed nothing. But by some unseen force things took a bad turn for the brave bow man, for at the exact second his eyes were looking away, the steel cords around the coward came loose, and as did his gun. In that one brief moment, the coward empowered with the full force of his fear, did what he did best and ran away like a big big coward, while Flynn reacted to the rustling sounds behind him.

In the less than a second it took him to spin around, his eyes had already locked on the falling gun and an arrow sent in flight. Aimed perfectly it soared forward hitting the gun at just the right angle, it passed through the trigger hole, while still pulling the weapon along. In the end the gun was nailed to a tree, dangling like a loop around the arrow. But before he could make a witty retort, the gun somehow managed to go off. Launching a single round at his head, he had no time to arm his bow and less time to react. Moving off skill and adrenaline, he shifted his weight to the right just in time as the bullet grazed by him. At that oh so brief moment, he watched as the round traveled by, mere inches away from his chin, as his body continued in a spinning motion, as he rotated around a full 360 degrees ending up back where he started. But by the time he finished, another trick arrow had been drawn and laid across his bow!

Armed and ready, he eyed his target[YOU] a few yards away standing in the middle of an open field, with a stern look alerting him, they could see each other. Waisting no time, Flynn let loose of the string but not before aiming upwards to the sky above his foe. With a silent “That ought to slow him down.” the arrow flew skyward but with a fiery trail behind it. Lighting up the sky it soared forth with a whistling tone until reaching its target, right above his enemy, when suddenly the arrow exploded like a fire cracker, raining down hundreds of tinier little arrows, all with titanium razor sharp tips. Within seconds the field would be home to a rain fall of several tiny but deadly arrows, literally falling from the heaven above, covering enough room to lay waste to anyone or thing caught underneath them.

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deactivated-5a12445cc779b

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The roar of an arrow erupting in a vast hail of fiery little arrows with razor tips sent a sharp jolt of alarm through Westley, whom stood in the dead center of it all. It was all the speed he could muster that he vanished far off from the field, letting the rain of titanium blades burrow into the ground, sizzling into the earth. The Knight's spatial evasion had spared him a whole lot of pain, but still his mind raced, knowing he only had moments to launch a counterattack at [the next poster].

Westley wasted little time in generating a silver broadsword from the universal framework of matter and energy he controlled. His motions skillfully swift and lethally precise, he took an arcing slash at the neck of his adversary.

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Just_an_average_man

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He begins to lean. His reflexes go into the realm of fractions of a second. He does not think about the fact that he cannot grab his handgun out of the holster. Not consciously. He simply knows, and out of seeing the sword.

*BANG*

As the Average Man's fist collides with the side of a blade, a shotgun blast explodes from the barrel mounted on his arm, and the shot breaks the sword clean in two. The upper fragment sliding along his helmet n direction of the swing, momentum carrying it across the room.

*CHING*

As the upper half of the blade embs in the wall.

His hips rotate and the recoil from the ship, pushing his fist back, sends his other forward in a fluid motion as his elbow curls in to give a tight right hook. The force and angling of the punch itself wouldn't matter much. More so, it's the 00 Buckshot surprise that would blow through a man's ribcage with over 3100 pounds of force.

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WhoWillWin

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If I am to go out, let there be fire. I take the shot straight through my chest, but not before I throw a little gadget of my own. In the air it shoots out sulfuric-like mustard gases, except that would be much better. The timer reads 5 seconds, just one whiff is all I need.

*Consequences of breathing this include, but are not limited to, whole life force/body deterioration, loss of place in this world, and there is a little factor of getting sucked into the black hole that comes out of the gadget itself(the detonation timer)*

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Scoundrel

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With his quarter staff firmly in hand, Conrad ran a tactical program in his head, as he readied for battle. While closing the distance between himself and his enemy, he began twirling his staff in a ritualistic pattern around his body as he charged forth at peak human speed. As always he began assessing his enemies assets, looking for bladed weapons and fire arms, that is why he was not caught off guard when the enemy tossed a little gadget of his own, in his general direction. From the looks of it, it appeared no more than a simple shrapnel grenade, and as such Conrad responded with a projection of an invisible shield between him and the expected explosion. Unseen to the eye, a one inch thick, five yard wide, shield materialized, but its effect was unnecessary. Instead of the makes shift projectile exploding into a million pieces, it let out a low hissing sound followed by a spray of gas in all directions. In seconds the area was covered in a dense fog of gas, as it spread out and around his shield, then further on until it surrounded him.

But deep within the middle of a toxic cloud of death, he let out a low chuckle from under his helmet as his built in gas mask went into effect. Breath after breath fresh oxygen was pumped into his lungs revitalizing both his brain and body. “Nice try pal....” he sneered, “...but you’re gonna haveto try harder than that to stop a Scoundrel!” Unfortunately Conrad felt he may of spoke to soon, as the cloud of gas had knocked visibility down to zero and he was now completely unaware of his surroundings. He was as lost as a babe in the woods, not knowing from where or when his enemy would strike next. But always the optimist, he continued to run his tactical program while striking out with his staff in calculated precise moves, guaranteed for optimal defense against any incoming unknown attack. But just as he was swinging his staff in a forward thrust, he looked down upon his arms and noticed the ill effect the gas was having on his gear. Up and down his near impervious Kevlar suit were small but distinct signs of acidic corrosion, as the residual effect of the gas was eating through his armor.

Literally caught at ground zero, self preservation became his highest concern. He had less than a minute before the gas would eat through his suit, and no place to run, for the gas surrounded him on every side. Trying to remain calm, he quickly considered his options then opted his only way to escape the cloud......was to rise above it! With peek human reflexes, he flicked his wrist holding his staff, shortening it down to one fifth its original size, then placed it back in it’s holster next to his lower right boot. At the same time he retrieved his make shift grappling hook and aimed it out and upwards to the roof tops above. With the flick of a switch, the hooks shot skyward followed by an unraveling rope that whizzed by his ear as it continually stretched out. With his suit now almost all but gone, he heard the unmistakable sound of his grappling hook taking a firm hold above, and with a cocky smile on his face, he retracted the cord and hoisted himself up and away, safely out of the realm of the death cloud below. Then after a few impressive athletic moves, he firmly planted both his feet safely on a near by roof top, but not before commenting to himself, “Not to bad, for a Scoundrel!

Unfortunately, as he looked down over the edge from the safety of his perch, he could still see the remains of the gas cloud still intact. What is worse, the cloud was eating away at anything in its grasp, including the ground floors of the nearby buildings, including the one he was currently resting upon. Already his building was creaking as it shifted a inch to the left as it slower railings were falling out of place. After a second or two of stumbling to regain his balance, he raced back to the ledge in a heroic fashion, for this time he had a plan. Resting on a lot of hope and faith, he reached into his utility belt, now one third deteriorated, and pulled out four freeze pellets each around the size of a large marble. Carefully shaking them in his hands like dice, he tossed them outward, sending them down to the cloud below, but not before letting out a whimsical, “Yahtzee!” As planned the pellets collided with the gas in an explosion of blue light and a cold and chilling breeze, leaving behind a huge block of ice as the gas was now firmly frozen, safely inside.

With the threat of acidic death finally neutralized, he fell to a seated position tending to his wounds. On any normal day he would have called it quits and gone home to take a long shower, but in his life there are no normal days. It was then out of the corner of his eye he noticed a figure in the shadows just a few yards away. With no time to waste he grabbed his last three remaining ‘S’ shaped shurikens in between his fingers. Then with a sharp flick of his wrist he sent them soaring out across the roof top at the shadowy figure, with a speed rivaling that of a bullet. The first two were meant as a mere distraction, as any skilled fighter would have a fifty fifty chance of dodging, or blocking them. But it was the third that counted. For before he tossed it away, he fluctuated the steels density back and forth so that it became charged with an energy that would explode on contact, with enough force to blow up a car. The only tail to its true potential would be that as it soared across the way, the shuriken would appear to fade in and out of sight. But at the speed it was traveling the chances of seeing that would be highly unlikely, or perhaps even foolish!

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Spectral__

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#939  Edited By Spectral__

The shurikens hit their mark but what they hit was merely the appeared image of a nonexistent corporeal figure, the shadowy figure dissipates in a flash of bright light as the explosive energy radiates outwards but its effect does not last more than a moment until it becomes consumed by shadow. The attack failed as it hit nothing more than a expendable projection now it was time to do deaths work, the next figure in this urban city environment appeared to be much sturdier than most breeds so stretching the realms of possibility has now become a necessity.

The commercial airline flying above the skys of the city has a turbine engine fail from a flock of birds entering it under my command , this causes the airline to crash precisely dowm towards my foe and upon contact when ever it crashes will cause the onboard experimental explosives being smuggled by a criminal organization to detonate releasing the equivalant of one hundred tons of TNT. The enusing explosion causes significant damage to the underground surface of the city for several miles which under its already poor structural condition causes the manifesation of a massive sink hole to transpire much earlier than it should have, a hole one mile in radius opens up beside my foe threatening to consume all the contents down several miles below while during this incident several building and countless vehicles would attempt to land and crush my foe due to manipulated trajectories

Finally after the sinkhole finishes manifesting and the debris ceases to fall a hidden ancient alien doomsday device long buried before the founding of the city activates from the ensuing destruction, its activation signals a countdown to where everything in the city will be ripped down at an atomic level and refined into gold once the thirty seconds are up.

With my attempt done I sit back and await the results.

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Just_an_average_man

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Elliot had seen enough apocalyptic crap to tell when shit was hitting the fan. He didn't need to be a genius to see Gehenna comin' to the earth over the horizon.

*VROOM VROOOM*

People looked in shock and fear as the man sped down the streets with reckless abandon. Cops followed in seemingly some attempt to ensue order, only to find greater problems erupting all around them. An airplane smuggling some bomb set off some chain reaction, and the earth itself seemed to tremble as the explosion channeled itself directly into the ground. And if that wasn't enough? The ****ing ground was caving into some kinda massive sinkhole. Long had Elliot stopped questioning the stuff that happened in this shitstorm of a world. From Gothic getting bombarded to cities collapsing into the ground from airplane crashes? The best thing that he could do is try to find some way to survive it all.

No Caption Provided

The hole in the ground grew all behind him, collapsing ground gettin' closer and closer. Cars swerved. A truck got in the way and Elliot speed up to maddening speeds. Even in the grizzly, he was in for a real hurtin' if he hit anything at this speed. A truck comes and her slowly mutters. "**** me." He leans and the bike flattens as he slides along the ground, underneath him. Cars behind him tailing him, crashing into the ground. A building starts following in front of him, and he just speeds up, outrunning it's fall. The ground splinters like wood, and a fragment juts up from the ground.

Can't tell if the world hates or loves me right now.

Only one way to find out.

He rides the splinter in the ground up, and soars through the sky on his chopper flying over crowded cars and pedestrians frantically trying to escape. But nothing he could do to save them. He was just a man.

"OUTTA THE WAY!"

They clear a path, the man not able to stop as pedestrians make way to not get run over. Seein' something of a familiar thin building up ahead, he had no time to turn, and loaded his grenade launcher. *THUPE* *BOOM* He burst through the smoke of one wall of the building, riding through a long hallway before *BOOM*The explosion makes an nice hole for him to get out through the other side. The sinkhole slows, not catching up to his own speed, as he makes his further and further out of the city.

No Caption Provided

He scarcely looked back from outside the city limits, as the entire thing seemed to get ripped apart by some unknown...force. Energy? Didn't matter really. All that mattered was that he escaped it's range before it happened. What seemed like just another fight within gods was something, turned into shit way worse than a couple a busted buildings. He didn't know if it was his own skill, or his own luck that let him survive. But it didn't matter.

As he rode off into the distance, he gave it the middle finger. It being death? Fate? Whatever. **** it.

------

Out in the middle of the desert, the man looked towards the one who he knew was his enemy. So as he sped along, he started cookin' a grenade and tossed it at them. Armory being the expert he is. He tossed the grenade out at them with such timing that it'd explode as he sped by.

Wasn't any old grenade of course. It was a white phosphorus grenade. The grenade unleashed a smoke that stucked to skin and ignited, burning at temperatures of 5,000 degrees fahrenheit (twice the melting point of most steels) until they either ran out of energy or was deprived of oxygen. With a range of thirty five feet? Even a few metas might wanna start bookin' it. Lest the grenade burn them to the very bone.

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deactivated-5a12445cc779b

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Cyber-Knight stood his ground among the sandy terra firma of the cooling desert, veiled eyes locked on the man speeding his way. There could be no doubt that this lone survivor of the collapsing city in the distance was his adversary, and the air around the Knight began to thicken with anticipation of an imminent attack.

He held a matte silver broadsword in his right hand, a shield fashioned like a circular disc held by the forearm of his left. The attacker raced ever closer and the Knight instinctively raised his shield and sword, as though poised to retaliate immediately following his defense. Dorian's eyes followed the grenade's ascension and descent, and yet he hadn't made a move. An odd, whitish blue flicker sparked from his shoulder - it went beyond his notice.

Then, as though synchronized with the enemy's departure, the grenade erupted in an enormous, igneous flare of smoke that lit the darkened surroundings white with superheated gas. The Knight was engulfed in its burning radiance, consumed in a torrent of ungodly white smoke that could've rendered many metas out there in critical condition.

No Caption Provided

Miles away from this would-be-catastrophe, nestled on a rock near a desolate tree in the very same desert, Cyber-Knight's consciousness resurfaced in his genuine physical form, hardly containing a smirk at the successful ploy his astral self had created. Dying to the advanced arsenal of an average man was hardly how he wished to conclude his visit to this timeline. However, there was still the matter of the enemy lurking about unattended.

Small, icy blue crystals of energy flaked from the palm of his hand as a javelin took form. Briefly engulfed in the blue luminescence of an unseen dimension, the light dimmed as Dorian's grip upon the mahogany shaft tightened. Pulled from a dimension of exotic matter, the metal composition of the javelin was not known to this world. Sharper than diamond, far more durable than steel, yet impossibly light and seemed more akin to stone than an actual metal, the Knight took aim at his new enemy's chest and hurled the javelin with preternatural precision and ease.

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Gripper

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As he watched his opponent create a make shift javelin out of thin air, all Jack could think was “Oh crap this might not be easy.” But with no time to chat with the brains of the team, he knew it was up to him to save the day. As his enemy spent the time forging his weapon of choice, Jack did the same and with a thought, four mechanical arms sprouted from his back. With robotic clanking sounds, each arm spread outwards to his sides, only to bend in with an arching pattern to where they ended up resting in front of him in a defensive stance. Each one with their three claw like tips snapping in the air. It was now a waiting game, as Jack and his four friends readied themselves for an attack, ready to counter anything from a laser blast to a thunderstorm above, with no solid idea what the mystic javelin could do.

Then with a massive display of speed and strength, the enemy pulled his weapon back over his shoulder, only to cock it, then with a flexing of his muscles, tossed it forward with a perfect aim. But just like in a good movie, time seemed to slow down as Jack ready to counter the attack. With the javelin whistling through the air, Jack commanded his upper right arm, Moe, to spring forth and clutch the weapon in mid flight, in an impressive display of reflexes. Like a cobra striking, Moe went in to action extending forward, just in time to snatch the javelin before its sharper than diamond tip was about to pierce through his chest. Had he grabbed it one second later the javelin would have already cut through his heart and traveled out through his spine, leaving a gapping hole in the four arm fighter and a puddle of blood on the floor.

Now with the upper hand, Jack clenched the spear tight with another of his mechanical arms, and together he snapped the javelin in half, only to drop the shattered pieces on the ground in front of him in an intimidating manner. Then with a simple, “you shouldn’t have done that sport” he extended forth his upper right mechanical arm, Moe, out to his side, until it reached a brown 2015 Dodge Minivan resting on the other side of the street. Then just as it grabbed hold off the vehicles under side in its massive clamp, it lifted the 8,000 plus pound car with the greatest of ease and hurled it out across the battlefield. But by judging on the weight of the vehicle and the speed and velocity at which he threw it, it was clear that the Minivan could be considered a giant bullet soon to be come crashing down.

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Maverick_6

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#943  Edited By Maverick_6
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The Maverick Mutant Hunter looked up, the vehicle moving a blur before the untrained eyes. His eyes however, could at least catch a brief spec of a human sized object moving at around mach ten, from a distance. A big bright minivan was just all the easier to see compared to an actual bullet or a speedsters. He held his M1911 in hand, already pre-emptively loaded with incendiary rounds from the get-go.

*BANG BANG BANG*

Three bullets punch into the engine block, incendiary with a delayed charge, and light the fuel ablaze. With moments of hitting him, the vehicle blows up spectacularly.

"Throw spears. Throw cars. Lemme guess. Next, you're gonna throw buildings. Just feedin' the sterotype that all you metas are so ****in' metas get so predictable."

Bradshaw flicks out his pep Baton, and flips off his thermals (Not like they'd work. Ain't gonna need now.) They might see the white of his eyes, just before the meta-chaff grenade hits the ground and goes off. Pigments of molecularly constructed shavings distort the ambient light. Rather than mere smoke, the chaff disrupts the way that light travels. Indeed, it worked against everything in the electromagnetic spectrum, and on things outside of it that interacted with normal matter. Distorted images, almost like holograms of the man appearing and out of existence

The open air becomes like a hall of mirrors, with the ultimate infantryman strolling up to the target with uncanny eyes and a keen mind. One keen enough to navigate the area simply by remembering how many steps away his opponent was.

And then they'd feel it. The heat of his neural Baton pressing against their temple. The concept was rather simple, derived from an array of stolen directed energy weapons. Foreign and exotic. Broken down. Formed into a melee weapon to bring superpowered beings to their knees.

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Rather than attack humans directly, it used Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation to stimulate the nervous system directly. Rather than trying to take a metahuman down by beating out their durability? This sought to turn their strength against them. With the simple flick of the switch, the Baton would forcefully stimulate the muscles with energies of such magnitude as to melt concrete. Eric was a man who hunted things beyond what were normal. The baton would melt a man. No. This was made for something different.

Regardless of strength. Regardless of raw durability. The magnetic field would forcefully make their muscles tighten and crush itself like a beer can. If the meta could lift fifty tons, it would crush with a strength three times that. Hundreds of tons? Their muscles would crush themselves with three times that. Megatons?

Their muscles would simply crush themselves with many more megatons of force than they would normally exert.

It was the Cape-Killer's intent to turn them into a vegetable, as the baton would cause their body to crush itself. If not? Well. Person might wish it would kill them instantly, like it would have any normal human being like himself.

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Gripper

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From every side, visions of his foe danced around in flickering light. As soon as Jack saw his enemy charging in from the left, he would vanish, then reappear coming in from the right. No matter what defensive stance Jack took it failed, for his enemy was coming in from all direction. But just as Jack conceived a way to fight back in all directions at once, a bone crippling pain coursed throughout his body. For as he was so preoccupied fighting off illusions, he never saw the real threat until it was to late. With the simple application of a Neural Baton placed against his temple, Jack felt a pain like he had never felt before. Immediately he fell to a knee with a scream so loud birds a mile away fluttered in fear. His whole body began shaking in a massive convulsion. Before he knew it he was face down lying in a puddle of his own blood and vomit, as he continued twitching in pain. Over and over he screamed as loud as he could, as he could feel his body crushing in on itself as his eyes rolled back in his head. Where it not for the fact his body was still kicking and screaming under a thick dark trench coat, no one would have guessed his body was crushing in on itself, in a most excruciating way.

Finally the pain became to much as the light in his eyes flickered away. He now laid motionless on the floor with his heart beating its last drop. But just when it seemed all hope had failed, a loud humming mechanical sound resonated from under his coat. For even though Jack was incapacitated by the Neural Baton, Jack’s arms were not. For they were something different. Neither living or dead, nor human or machine, all they were, were part of Jack, and they could tell......something was wrong. Acting off self preservation, all four arms shot out from Jack’s back, and together they attacked the source of Jack’s pain. Like a string of twine, each of the arms overlap one another, building their combined strength, until they formed one large collection of unbreakable steel. Together they attacked, swinging with an unbridled brute strength, and without the moral compass of their host, they swung to kill, striking at the source of Jack’s pain with one and only one goal, to stop it no matter what.

But whether they killed, maimed or just incapacitated the threat, the four arms still had to deal with a near dead host. As fast as they sprung forth from Jack’s back they recoiled, and began building an electrical charge inside. Upping the amp slowly, they applied a make shift shock treatment throughout the body mainly to stimulate both the heart and brain, until the organs where working on their own. After about two minutes of being clinically dead, Jack awoke with a huge gasp of air and a horrific look upon his face, only to make it to his knees with the help of his two lower mechanical arms as crutches. Although still in a massive amount of physical pain, he struggled on to his feet while allowing his healing factor to kick in, and save the day. But as he stood upright on wobbly legs, he looked over his shoulders to his mechanical friends, and with a voice drenched in gratitude he thanked them over and over, while wiping away the tears from his eyes. For never had he needed them so much and never before had he felt they were a part of him.

Unfortunately now was not the time to rest as he witnessed a new enemy [You] standing across him on the battlefield. Roughly fifty yards apart, late night on an abandoned street, the place was lit only by the fading glow from the street lights above. Out of character, Jack attacked first, and with a thought his four mechanical arms were out and ready to strike. He began by raising the lower two up over his head, then together he slammed them down on the road just in front of him. In effect gravel flew everywhere, but more importantly the street cracked open wide making a huge hole that traveled towards his enemy in a zig zag pattern, that could possibly swallow him/her up inside. If that wasn’t enough, he already had his upper two arms aimed and ready to fire. Hoping his enemy was distracted by the tiny quake, a low level humming noise built up around the tip of the two upper arms, and before you knew it, a single blast of energy flew forth from both of them, aimed directly at his opponent. His goal was not to kill but to incapacitate, and if either of the blast were to hit, that would be more than enough!

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Maverick_6

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#946  Edited By Maverick_6

"Damn Braddie. Really don't take it easy now-a-days, do ya?"

Jackal says, turning his back to the downed metahuman as each tendril combines to form one monstrous mass of metal. "Hopefully you didn't make him a ***ing vegetable. Media's gonna have a field day with us mutilating yet another meta. Specially one this famo-" He turned around.

*THWACK*

He turns, his words cut off. He has just enough time to say, oh shit, his eyes coming forward with the metallic being milliseconds away from impact. The mega-tendril his Jackal with freight truck like force, and ragdolled him off to the distance until *CRASH*he landed in a steel reinforced brick wall, a sizeable dent forming behind it. His armored, enhanced and yet human body took the damage of the sudden acceleration poorly, and he didn't see the attack coming enough to negate any of the strike. He rest in the hole with his eyes pale and a bemused grin on his face, before he unceremoniously slide to the ground. He flopped to the ground, landing dangeriously

He was out cold.

*Cough cough* Blood sprayed and stained his visor a bit.

"You got me good."

The Revenant Ronin rose to his two feet. His body shivered involuntarily at the pain of ruptured organs and shattered ribs. But beneath his helmet, he smiled at it. "Real" The sickening crack of dislocated bones, snapped back into place. "Good." One of his named blade, Raiden, seemed almost to simply appear in his hands. His mind moved like that of animal, and like a predator who'd been struck by what was supposed to be prey. He had been forced to respect the man's abilities, regardless of what he seemed to be.

He paused and looked down, a crack zigagging towards him as the man struck the ground in such a way as to open up a hole in it. Smiling, Jackal abruptly fell in. *SCREEEEEEECH*The high pitched noise of his vibrating blade cleaving into concrete, before it ceased. And with the cease of it's vibration, so to did Jackal prevent his fall. It only took the use of the serpent's tongue for him to appear in the wall, ascending dozens of meters with ease as he lands 15 feet away from his next target. [That'd be you]

"Now" Raiden lives up to it's name, lightning ebbing from the blade before the shot deflected at an angle behind him, causing an explosion he didn't bother looking at. Shrapnel simply bounce off his armor. "Lemme pay you back."

His blade shifted and left behind no trace of ever having existed within the confines of the electromagnetic spectrum. His sword seemed nothing more to than a bladeless hilt. Few opponent would know that in reality, his blade was simply invisible. Even fewer had reason to expect it's unorthodox method of attacking. The blade was made of carbon nanotube muscle fiber much like that which composed his previous body,albeit more elastic. Serrated edges of cubic boron nitride moved back and forth millions of time in a second at such high frequencies that the human eye was unable to see it vibrate. Not only was it's edge able to cut diamond. It's edge was indeed, much superior to diamond due to it's higher melting point and stability.

No Caption Provided

Electric current stimulated vibration. Vibration brought heat. And it's chainsaw like movement allowed for seemless cutting. Aside from what the target might have? There was no material present to withstand Raiden. It slide through steel and melted it like butter. Precise and fluid swings were at the same time, rapid and oriented toward his opponent and to the objects around him.

Not only did he strike at his opponent. He created environmental hazards constantly wherever he saw fit. He cut power cords and caused electric capable that powered buildings to flail wildly about. He cut fire hydrants to spray high pressure water to distract and conduct electricity. He cut the engine blocks of near by cars to cause them to. Street lamps began falling down. The Extra-Normal-Execution literally cut a path of destruction wherever he so tread.

If the Elastic Artificial Muscle blade contracting and slicing at such speeds as to leave a man a pile of meat ribbons in .3 seconds wasn't enough. The ambient chaos that ensued might be.

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Gripper

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As he watched the man crawl out from the crack, all Jack could think was, “Whythe Hell don’t they ever stay down?” But as planned, Jack was prepared for the mans return and as such he fired off two blasts of energy, one from the tip of each of his upper mechanical arms, both surging forth with deadly precision. Expecting a quick victory, he instinctively recoiled his four arms after taking a somewhat heroic stance with the wind blowing his trench-coat like a cape. Unfortunately, his enemy was far from being defeated and after reaching firm ground, openly mocked Jack with one word, “Now!” Then to add insult to injury he placed his mystic sword in the path of the energy blasts only to deflect them at an angle behind him causing a massive explosion there, after which he taunted, "Lemme pay you back." At that point all Hell broke loose around Jack as ever car alarm in the vicinity went off. At the same time the fire hydrant to his left, split pouring gallons of fresh water out and along the streets. Above him streetlights exploded, showering the streets with glass, as the fixtures above snap and crackled with sparks. It was as if everything around was either breaking down or attacking him. Unfortunately due to his vast inexperience, the chaos around him was more than distracting and thus he took his eyes off his enemy. As he made his move to counter the destruction, he sent his lower left arm out towards the leaking fire hydrant in an attempt to clamp it shut.

No Caption Provided

But as his attention was focused on his surroundings, so was his mental commands over his arms. Each one was now flailing around as his eyes darted back and forth across the carnage. It was at that point his enemy made his move, and with a sword unseen by human eyes, he made his way in past the arms defense, to where he was close enough to strike at Jack himself. But by sheer dumb luck, as Jack’s lower left arm was recoiling in, after clamping the fire hydrant, it was coming back in like a fish hook, with it’s optic circuits viewing it’s host. It was there it noticed the threat to Jack’s life and in the time it took to send a thought, both Jack and the other three Stooges were aware. Like a whip cracking through the air Jack sent his upper left arm to defend, and in a reflexive motion it shot between it’s host and the threat, colliding with the unseen blade. Instantly, sparks flew as metal on metal clashed with the enemies blade cutting away in a chainsaw like manner. In response Jack’s arm fought back, trying hard to push the foe away, as microscopic scratches ripped through it’s steel hide. But as long as Jack’s arms were re-inventing themselves where they were scratched, like a mechanical healing factor, Jack felt confident enough to taught his aggressor with a simple but well timed, “Gotcha!

Hoping to strike back before his enemy could change his attack, with a thought Jack commanded his lower right arm into action, sending it in a path around his back to his side, to where it was heading straight towards his enemy. Along the way, he spread out the arm’s razor sharp claws to form a blunt tip, turning the arm into a massive battering ram, headed towards the man’s chest. But as always, Jack’s concern was not to kill his enemy but rather incapacitate him. As such when moving his arm into strike, he struck hard enough to launch the man through the air. But with no permanent damage to his enemy, other than a few broken bones and a few cracked ribs. Still playing the role of the stereotypic hero, he felt it necessary to add a clever witticism upon contact, therefore at the moment his mechanical arm collided, with a slight smirk on his face he remarked, “Better luck next time!” But no matter how far he knocked him, whether it be several feet or a few inches, Jack would definitely follow up by putting some distance between him and his enemy with an impressive feat of acrobatics. By use of his own legs he kicked off with his feet and preformed a triple back flip, placing himself a good ten yards away from where he started.

As Jack looked around at all the carnage going on around him, he knew he needed to end the fight quick before any more damage could be done, by either him or his enemy. As such he quickly came up with a plan to stop both, but it all relied on a lot of luck. Immediately, he planted his two lower mechanical arms firmly on the ground, and with a thought lifted himself ten feet up in the air. Then with his two upper arms, he coiled them over his shoulders where they snapped and slithered like cobras ready to strike. Over all it was one big move to look intimidating and to most it would, but more importantly it was done to distract his enemy. With the water that poured out from the fire hydrant’s previous eruption, his enemy was standing one inch deep in water, in the middle of a flooded street. With nothing more than a simple, “Good Night!” Jack built up an electrical charge in his two lower arms that turned the water into an electrical conductor, with enough voltage to put down a rhino. Either way he expected to watch his enemy jitter as he fried, until falling to the ground unconscious, then and only then would Jack stop the attack, and lower himself to ground level, the victor!

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deactivated-5ab869058874a

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Electricity crackled about the cold, militant exterior of Ordnance's vibranium microweave like sparks from a faulty outlet. The voltage came short of its incapacitating potential at the hands of otherworldly weave, however, leaving the assassin dangerously free to divert his attention to the next adversary present in the midst of the flooded street.

With almost imperceptible movement, he'd unsheathed his jagged tactical sword; in the very same breath, he'd taken a horizontal swipe at his opponent's throat with the blade, seeking an efficient end to his would-be-contender.

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Grover_

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Grover stares blankly as the sword moves through his Jell like body and backs his fist up hardening it like Diamond and slinging it at his opponent at lightning speed.

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Scoundrel

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The man’s speed was unparalleled, and Conrad was hit long before he even knew it. Even with his enhanced reflexes, he never had a chance. His enemy hit him hard and fast, with a hand harder than diamonds, and where it not for Conrad’s reinforced body armor, it could have been his last. Connecting with his jaw line, Conrad went flying. His whole body moved like a rag doll in the wind with his near lifeless arms and legs wobbling along the way. Already he was seeing stars under his helmet as he fought the urge to give in and pass out. But as his mind was reeling, he never had a chance to prepare for his inevitable stop, and in less than seconds his body collided with a store front wall behind him. In that one instance the force he had built up in flight, mixed with the power from the punch, his whole body slammed through the bricks, causing a huge cloud of dust mixed with cement debris filling the air.

Now in more pain than before, his whole body was throbbing as he laid on the floor of a tailor shop. The room was in shambles as the lights flickered above and he laid in a pile of plaster and mortar. Fighting the urge to stay down he wobble to his feet thinking, “That’s one for you” but as he stared at the gaping whole in the wall from where he crashed through, he came up with a quick plan to get some well due revenge. Waisting no time he began healing himself by fluctuating his density back and forth and with each shift his body began a new, and after only a few seconds he was ready to go.

Unfortunately his enemy was still out there, and would be on top of him any second, so he decided to take a tactical advantage in his next strike. Placing himself inside on the left side of the hole, just out of view, he drew forth his quarter staff from around his ankle and with a flick of his wrist extended it to its full reach. Gambling that his enemy [YOU] would be coming in through the same hole in the wall, he waited patiently until he/she arrived. Then using the element of surprise, he swung his nearly unbreakable staff like a bat at his enemies chest, hoping to do enough damage to put him/her down with minimal effort. But for now it was just a waiting game, as he gripped his staff tight, all the while he kept thinking to himself, “Batter up!