In a dexterous display of superhuman martial purity, my body instinctively begins the imperceptible micro-maneuvers necessary to narrowly avoid the incoming car. And yet with enough withheld reactionary impulse as to attempt to intercept you around the head and neck. Simultaneously spinning, and acrobatically DDTing you violently into the earth.
The man gripped him and abruptly ripped him off the ground with intent to slam him headfirst into the pavement. However, the opponent found find only a coat fluttering unceremoniously in the dirt as it is roughly toss, as Septimus slipped from the man's grip mid-throw and was instead sent flying.
His boots thud against the concrete and he reaches to his hip to immediately whip out his Deagle and send a slew of high caliber munitions towards center mass, only to find his weapons and other armament laying before his opponent in his coat.
A minor expenditure of Vitae and he closes the gap between him and his opponent in the literal blink of an eye, ending his trip with a ribcage crushing palm to the top of the chest.
The spell falls short as it fails to conduct through Septimus' body properly. If he could channel magicks through his body, he'd have likely found some way to have turned back into a human being by now. Sadly, few magical cures could turn Septimus human and the very same un-life force that prevented a spell from turning him human, prevented the Magical spell from turning him in to a piece of toast.
"If only..." He murmured towards his opponent, his hand whipping out with such similar speeds and seeking to snap the neck of the next opponent like a twig.
Last thing Warspool remembered was being tossed up in the Buick he hijacked not too long ago. Now he was getting punched in the face by a skeleton. Life's strange that way.
In the smoldering wreckage of the vehicle, he felt the hard bony knuckles of an actual Skyrim mob hitting him squarely in the jaw. He coughed and sputtered, but stood up and - in a confused haze, considering his brain bouncing around everywhere and not having healed yet - drunkenly smashed his fist into whatever was near at the time, be it [You] or a piece of static scenery.
He moved forward before the fist was swung, and he got in practically kissing range of his opponent. Too close to be punched, he embraced his foe, melds with his momentum, leans back and then then abruptly jerks his hip to violently toss the man over his hips and violently slam him to the ground with the force generate by the man's own body in almost one seamless.
The crowd however was another story.
They soon turned on him for whatever such reasoning and from his maws, the beast came forth in the form of a long tendril that jutted into the neck of one of the unfortunate passerbies, causing the whole crowd to disperse.
He looks to you now, eyes neither angry nor determined. Only a blankness that spoke of the hollow hunger within that sought to be filled. He does not see an man as he does more so a meatsack in need of pulverized. Empowered by the blood, Septimus would appear before his opponent in the literal blink of an eye and send forth an endless savage flurry of blows with such Jackhammer-like force as to crack solid concrete.
@voracious: left, then right, then a pirouette resulting in a half circle to the left, each punch thrown by the being known as Septimus meeting nothing but thin air, despite the blinding speed at which the fists were thrown. This goes on for a mere minute, but hundreds of blows had already been thrown, and an equal amount had been skillfully avoided. Seeing Septimus beginning to tire, Phillip decides to end this momentary game. Dodging one last pathetic attempt at a punch, Phillip does a full spin around Septimus, and all in one motion unsheathes his trench knife and dissects both of the monster’s hamstrings.
Now on his knees and bleeding profusely, Septimus opts for his mouth tendril as a last resort, which is caught and severed in an instant by the skilled combatant. Pulling out his other trench knife while staring deep into his contemptuous opponents eyes, Phillip separates the monsters head from its body.
With so many bystanders around, Phillips presence is compromised, and his identity is revealed. Spying one onlooker watching the fight a tad bit too intensely, Phillip throws the knife lying in his right hand at a speed that no bullet can match, aiming directly at the head, to cut off one of the many loose ends....
With thoughtless reflexes, Septimus becomes a blur instinctively moving past a lamp post as the knife lodges within, stopping at the hilt as it lodges into the metal, and the vampirific vigilante simply disappears into darkness Tokyo's alleyways.
The lamp-post comes from behind, thrown with such force and speed as to seek to spear the opponent to the wall with but a blunt edge.
Kaija turned towards the rapid footsteps to find... a headless man dashing towards her at full sprint in a tackling stance. With no time to react, she was swept off of her feet; her eyes wide with a bit of controlled terror as a being that she could only assume was the headless horseman tackled her to the ground. Not a second later, a metallic head crashed into her skull. Blood ran down the side of her skull and she had a bit of a headache, but she was relatively fine, otherwise. A quick glance at the throat of the being on top of her revealed him to be a robot... and a low-grade one at that.
Slightly confused, she exploded off of the ground, threw the robot off of her, then looked up into a window of a nearby skyscraper to find her target.
Her task was simple. She needed to get rid of [You] at any cost by any means necessary. Her attack was equally simple. Taking on the stature of a giant, she merely kicked in the first floor of the skyscraper that her opponent had been standing inside of and left. The structure would begin to fall apart with her target still inside. From the current floor, [You] would be subjected to the dangers of a collapsing skyscraper from a floor right around the middle of the structure. Not only would the fall be more than enough to kill the average person, but there would also be the upper half of the building coming down onto your body for [You] to deal with.
Kaija felt no need to watch until the end and simply made her leave just before the structure began to crumble.
Bob felt his bones hit something and despite his low weight he managed to successfully not only hit them with a tackle but also his falling cranium. Celebrating by reattaching his head the moment it bounced off his opponent. He was going to dance sarcastically at least that was his plan until the person he took down became large enough to kick down a skyscraper, one he so happened to land in.
As long as his skull wasn't powder he'd be fine so re-detaching his head the undead threw it at a nearby shorter building away from the skyscrapers path. His body picked up a slab of debris, which was than summoned to his head. Concrete ready to slam into his opponent down below
Amused at the sight of a headless body walking around, he stood there unflinching as the slab of concrete came crashing down. His tongue curling around his lips. With a simple sniff in the air, he sensed no sign of angelic blessings or any other signs of divinity upon the weapon and as such he deemed the attack, no threat against him. Instead he simply stood there waiting, for the moment of collision, where he almost laughed as the concrete collided with a thunderous SMASH. But instead of a cracked cranium the slab broke in a million pieces of rubble, raining down around him like a tiny shower of pebbles. Unamused, the Hell spawn brushes away the dust left behind from off his shoulders as he looks back at his attacker and growls, “It is now, my turn!”
With lightning and thunder roaring all around him, he spreads his wings to his side and takes flight. Like a bat he lifts himself up to the sky just a few yards away from his enemy [You] and laughs, “Insignificant speck, Feel the wrath of the Dark Lords chosen!” Then without skipping a beat he proceeds to flap his wings faster and faster, building up an enormous amount of wind. Soon the equivalent of a category 5 Hurricane, with winds up to 156 mph erupted tossing any and everything in its path away, while he sits back and enjoys the carnage, that he created!
Dr. Papillion eyed the hellspawn, unimpressed by his display of physical power and feeble attempts at intimidation. Thunder and lightning? Cliche as hell. The winds roared in his ears and started ripping at his labcoat. With a sigh, inaudible over the rushing air, he pulled a hand lazily out of his pocket, adjusted his glasses, and snapped his fingers. Twenty or so green forms materialized almost from nowhere, and, after a moment of fighting the wind, landed on the man's arms, from the shoulder to where the wrists that disappeared once more into the pockets of the now-ripped lab coat. As the winds increased, Rex pulled his hand out of his pocket just long enough to raise one finger at his opponent before completely disappearing.
He re-materialized at the location of the actual problem. His eyes met [Yours] as the butterflies fluttered from his arms, circling his body like a tiny vortex of wingbeats. The hand he'd gestured at the demon with was still out of his pocket, and positioned itself for another snap. The sound rang out and the flock of insects immediately obeyed, moving as one body toward the target. Each wingbeat began warping reality so that the location began to transform into a white-walled, white-floored room, an anomaly containment cell. The only words the good doctor shared: "Sorry 'bout this."
The shrill, high pitched scream echoed in all directions and hit all things capable of auditory perception with an unnatural resonance. Baser instincts in the creatures flared as they soon simply fled upon hearing the horrible scream, leaving the room half white, half normal. A half-finished anomaly in space time that Septimus had no interest in staying in .
He became a blur but a moment. The window was open and he was gone. There was little in the realm of aubile indication as Septimus simply descended to the streets below with sword angled like a spear. The full brunt of body weight and armor, combining with gravity to create the force that was his car crash like impact.
All focused unto a Tungsten Carbide tip.
To him the charge was an insult, for it was in his nature to charge first, and crush his enemy under his foot, not the other way around. Still the threat needed to be dealt with, and fast. With only seconds to react, Stomp moved his enormous frame to the right, shuffling all 13,000 pounds with a speed unprecedented for a being his size. Luckily, he moved just in time, so that the enemies sword wisped by his side, missing the mark, passing by his flesh within inches. With a mighty ‘ROAR’ he shook his head violently through the air, as a sign of dominance, while his adversary finished passing by on his way across the battlefield.
Abruptly turning around to face his foe [You], Stomp locked eyes with him/her, in an attempt to strike fear in their heart. Then after a few heavy grunts he raised his right foot in the air only to slam it down hard. Immediately a huge fissure formed in the ground, splitting the concrete open wide. At the same time a concussive force of wind blew out, knocking down everything in its path, while every pain of glass in the area shattered into a million pieces. Meanwhile the crack beneath his mighty foot spread forth in a zig zag pattern enveloping everything inside, to fall into an Earthly trap they may never escape. Either way he stood proud blowing his trunk in the air, while getting ready to run down his foe if they step one foot out of his trap!
The beast of a man hammered his foot into the ground and the world around him exploded. Glass shattered from every window and door and rained down from above. It was all he could do to cover his face before shards dug into his sides, but he didn't even have time to recover before the ground opened up under him. Wider and wider it grew as Richard tried to gain his footing with a large piece of glass stuck inside his gut. Quickly breaking off the glass inside of him, Richard's began to bound one side to the next moving closer and closer to his prey. Until his foot slipped. His claws dug into the side of the walls as his feet hang down over his tomb. He clawed his way up more and more escaping the clutches of death.
Regaining his ground Richard's eye went white as he spoke with nature. It was only a moment before thousands and thousand of birds descended on his enemy. Each ones sharp beaks coming to tear the flesh of the one who stood in front of him. Wave after never ending wave came crashing down, blackening out the sun with the shear numbers over birds.
The Great Titan - standing proud and resolute beneath the impending sea of birds - clenched his gauntleted left fist. The icy blue lavaliere lodged in one of the grieve's knuckles shone bright in the darkness created by the avians - the space stone.
A stirring like a suction of wind suddenly flared around the golden grieve, followed by a black, white outlined radiance gathering around the being's fist. In seconds, dust, rock, and avians alike were rapidly drawn into the contained singularity produced by Andion, vanishing into the starry black depths of the hole.
What otherwise might've been a near death experience for Andion instead became his first demonstration of the might the space lavaliere possessed. With a merciless smirk playing onto his purple lips, he grasped the miniature singularity like a football and hurled it at his next opponent.
It hummed as it hurtled in their direction, gradually increasing in size as it contained to draw dirt and debris in its destructive wake.
At first glance it appeared a small singular object hurling at him with great speed, but as it soared in closer, it was much worse. Coming in hot, the singularity was increasing in size as it contained to draw dirt and debris in its destructive wake. With every second a cloud of dust was forming, circling around the black center pulling in everything in its path. The only good news was, the singularity was still small and containable, especially for what Stomp had in mind.
Charging forward, to face the threat before it could grow any larger, he reached out and clamped the singularity between his massive hands. Then with the strength of a Titan, he held fast, containing the oddity between his fingers. It was now a contest between raw strength and cosmic forces, as they fought against each other. With his muscles throbbing, he held the singularity down refusing to let it grow any larger, but all the dirt and debris was still being pulled in, and despite his best efforts, he was loosing.
By now the singularity had grown three times larger in size as Stomp now stood in the middle of a small tornado. Despite his enhanced strength and durability the pain was overwhelming. His only desire was to ease his pain, but knowing if the singularity was aloud to grow, it would be the end of him and everything he cared about. With no other option, he let out a primal yell as he forcibly hurled his arms upward tossing the singularity up and away. Falling to one knee he looked up just in time to see the singularity pass through the clouds on its way to the stars and beyond, where it would be the universes problem, and not his!
Taking only a second to catch his breath, he smelled another person [You] standing behind him. Moving with a speed just above peak human, he spun around with his arms out to his sides. He then moved in closer on his enemy, bringing both his arms and massive frame down around him/her in an attempt to trap him/her in a deadly bone crushing bear hug. Or in his case an Elephant hug. Either way if completed, he would continue squeezing tighter until he could hear bones crushing in his arms.
The man stood over him like a mountain. His arms the size of trees, and his frame so big it blocked out the sun. Marcus looked like a child in his shadow, standing inches beneath him feeling his hot breath on the top of his head. What’s worse, that despite his enemies enormous size, he had lightening speed as his arms moved in like a blur as they closed. Had Marcus the time he might have laughed at the sense of poetic justice, as he was seconds away from having his bones broken as opposed to the other way around. But by keeping a cool head in such a life threatening situation, he put his plan to escape in motion.
Pushing off with both feet, he arched his head back and in effect began the first steps to preform a perfect back flip. At the same time, he quickly pulled his knees to his chest while tucking into a tight ball. Then to add some force to his escape, as his legs reached the level of his enemies exposed chest, he firmly placed both of his feet against it, and like placing them against a firm wall, he pushed away adding both speed and force to his retreat. By the end of it all he landed a full safe ten yards away, sticking the landing in a three point stance, while at the same time reaching for his automatic shotgun strapped to his back.
Staring through his mask with dagger eyes, he utters the words, “Time for some plain simple justice!” as he zeros in on his target, [You]! With the pull of a trigger and repeated pump action, he let loose a cloud of buckshot, ripping it’s way through anything in it’s path. Then just as the first round ended, he would fire off another. Round after round he continued shooting, following the path of his target wherever they would tend to go. With a full round of shells loaded in his gun, he could continue his onslaught for a good minute or two.
Cutting Edge raises his arm as his suit as it spread out so that it could take the barrage of incoming bullets. The armor was able to tank the many blows of the tiny pieces of metal while taking very little damage. By the time that the assault had come to and end, there were hundreds of dent marks left on that arm of the suit. He looked down and scoffed at the minumal impact that the attack made. He the raised his other arm as it formed a large canon. After holding it for about ten seconds, he realized a beam of pure energy into path of his next target.
Marcus readied himself as his enemies arm morphed into a makeshift cannon, complete with mechanical buzzing sounds and flashing lights. But it was not until his palm surged with raw energy that Marcus could confirm the attack. Standing within blasting range, and without shelter, he had no place to hide, nor any idea of what damage his enemy could do. His only option was to dodge, counter, and attack, and hope he had what it took to take the Armored individual down for the count. Going off the every increasing sound and glow from the cannon, Marcus hypothesized his moment to strike, and just as the beam of pure energy was released, he moved.
While dodging to the right, he reached for one of his special Shurikens, just in time to avoid the beam only by inches. It was so close that he could feel the heat from the blast as it passed by, singeing the exposed hairs on his arm. As he finished his mad dash to the right, he finished it with a Olympic level somersault followed by a tuck and roll, only to end on one knee, ready to counter strike. With a keen eye, he hurled the Shuriken forward, aimed at his enemies shoulder, specifically right above where the cannon was connected. But based off his deduction on how little damage his buckshot had done previously, he knew a long sharpened piece of steel would have no effect. Therefore as planned the special Shuriken he choose carried an explosive charge, equal to around five grenades, ready to explode on contact.
The Sentinel would grab the shurikens and the explosion that would happen afterwards would have little to no effect on him. His royal blue cape would flap with the wind as he slowly lowered himself to the ground .His eyes were illuminated with stellar energy his fist were surrounded by the flowing energy, .
When he was within 12. Feet of his opponent, he would release an omnidirectional blast of concussive force with enough power to level cities. He would then teleport himself to the Astral Plane so he can relax
Standing firm with his left foot digging into the ground behind him, he stared into the eyes of his enemy, hoping to gain the advantage of intimidation. Suddenly, the enemy raised his hand, and from his palm he released an omnidirectional blast of concussive force upon him at near point blank range. Before Evan knew it, he felt a pain in his chest where he was hit, unlike any he had felt before. His only reaction was to block the beams path with his right hand, after doing so the exposed scars on his chest slowly began to heal. In the mean time he could feel the blast burning through his hand as the ground around him was wiped away. By now he was standing along side a city of rubble with a hand more bone than flesh. His enemy already long gone after teleporting away, leaving him physically pushed back ten yards, again from the sheer force of his enemies blast. The only thing going for him was that as his enemy vanished so did the blast and in time his hand would grow back to normal.
But in a world filled with heroes and villains, there was always somebody else looking for a fight. It was then he noticed the presence of another individual [You] standing in the street a few yards away. With no time to waste Evan reached out and grabbed hold of a parked Ford truck resting along the side of the street, and with both hands held it high above his head. He then let out a primal yell as his trunk flailed in the wind, followed by a cruel and ominousness, “You are so dead now wimp!” With his muscles rippling, he yanked the car forward with a firm grasp on it’s rear, and like a giant club he swung it down upon his enemies head! At the rate and speed he was swinging he could easily kill an even above peak human, but the fact was, he just didn’t care.
The Sentinel would wave his hand and would block the wave of rampaging flames. His eyes and were beginning to increase in luminosity, as well as his body. He was infusing his stellar energy with his own natural strength, heightening his strength, significantly. He would lot out a mighty yell of anger. For the flames caused his skin to become incredibly irritated. He would viciously scratch his chin with one hand and would swing his other hand backward. He would slam his fist into the ground with great power and the earth underneath him began to send ripples throughout the city, causing great damage to the city around him.
He would turn and would notice his next opposer, with the tectonic plate of the city still shifting, the ground was still shakey, but that wasn't much of a problem for the Solar Soldier. He would point his palm towards his opponent and a beam of stellar energy would emerge from his hand. It would begin to approach his opponent with speeds well beyond Mach 20, and with enough power to tear entire buildings into nothing instantaneously.
Mister Surreal looked over as he saw his opponent turn to him as he began to make his make his move. He in that moment redied himself for the worst to come. He began cast a spell of energy manipulation as his opponent prepared to attack. Just as his spell was ready, a beam of pure stellar light was generated and launched in his direction. Before he even had time to blink, he was being bombarded by a beam of golden light. Luckily, the spell was able to hold back against the attack. He held out his hands as he controlled the forceful power.
The beam was now contained in the palm of his hand. He quickly noticed another enemy in his enviroment and took action accordingly. He started to repurpose the energy in his hand and embued it with magical engery. He twisted and contorted his hands until the golden energy became redish orange. He then swirled his hand at his enemy with a ball of spiralling mystic energy that would transform anything that it came into contact with. The ball of energy was about 60 feet in circumference and and travelled at a speed of 30 Feet per second.
@mister_surreal: The Enigma watched patiently as the beam of mystical and stellar energies approached him hastily. When the beam was within 60 feet of Jeremiah, he dashed to the side, barely dodging the enormous beam. He would then stick his arm out and would put it into the beam. Upon contact, the mystical energy would then be destroyed by his anti-magic, it would then be transferred to his opponent, temporarily disabling his ability to use magic. However, as a consequence for coming into contact with magic, his own anti-magic also became inaccessible. He would then begin to feel a burning sensation as he removed the magic from the beams. The stellar energy turned out not to be of magical means ,and that was a problem for Jeremiah.
He would quickly withdraw his hand from the beam and would wait for the burning to stop. In the meantime, he would notice a new figure standing in the distance. Even though he was in a weaker state then in his natural from, he still could pull off some impressive power. He would warp reality so that his hand would be fine, after that , he would then attempt to place the opponent in an illusion. This illusion wasn't just a trick of the mind, but it was actually outweighed reality. In the illusion ,buildings were tumbling over, and directions were nonsense. As his opponent would perceive , this illusion, assuming that it worked, Jeremy would raise his hand to the sky and would fire down divine elements upon the victim. While this was occurring , he would stick out his hand towards his opponent and would cast a telekinetic blast with a psi of 950,985 ,meaning that wind pressure would reach 19,273.78 mph, much more than Hurricane Patricia (winds speeds per hour)
Suddenly and without warning, Jacks whole world started crumbling down. Beneath him the ground rumbled, splitting open wide with a huge crack down the middle. At the same time the buildings around him were crumbling down, littering the streets with broken mortar and glass. By now standing was an impossibility as everything around him was being tossed around, in wave over wave of destruction. With no other choice, Jack shot out his two lower mechanical arms to brace him , as each anchored him by lodging themselves in to the ground and tightening up. He was still being tossed around side to side, but now he had some basic support. In a desperate attempt to save the city, he commanded his two upper mechanical arms out to be support beams while using the ink from his ink glands to glue the buildings back together.
But just as soon as the earthquake began, a barrage of divine elements rained down from the sky above. Beginning with a thunderous roar, the skies opened up, revealing a lone figurer hovering there with his hand raised up to the skies. In an instant hail and lighting poured down, smashing and burning anything in its path, unrelenting in its destruction. Immediately Jack let out a sad, “Oh this just can’t be happening,” as he gave up on protecting the city, and moved on to self preservation. Recoiling his two upper arms, Moe and Larry, he sent them out to grab the two nearest cars, then with limited ease held them over his head as a shield against the storm. For the next few minutes, the automobiles were bombarded relentlessly, until all that was left was a smoldering hump of metal, riddled through from top to bottom.
Hoping to catch his breath, Jack felt assured the attack was over and even peered out from under the security of his make shift shield, just in time to feel a strong wind beginning to blow. At first it seemed a mild wind, but sure enough it grew stronger and stronger. In an instant the cars he held above him were blown away, with enough force to rip them out of his mechanical grip, and send them hurling through the air like a projectile weapon. Holding on for deer life, Jack held his human arms over his face for protection as the winds ruthlessly knocked him around. Very soon the rock mortar where his two lower mechanical arms were anchored, were ripped away, leaving Jack a proverbial rag doll ready to be tossed in the wind. With no other choice Jack commanded all four of his mechanical arms to protect him, and as such they continued to wrap themselves around him until he was safe inside a steel cocoon of his own making. Unfortunately, while safe inside he was still subject to the wind and as such he was knocked around like a ping pong ball, smashing and slamming into everything, adding to the carnage, but with him safe inside!
By now the war was lost as the city laid in a pile of rubble. Bruised and battered Jack slowly rose to his feet, filled with the urge to release some well due payback. Seeing a new face [You] standing upon a pile of debris a fair fifty yards away, Jack could only assume he was the source of the damage. Filled with anger Jack wanted the stranger to know he was in for a fight, and in a loud and forceful voice he shouted across the battlefield, “This is for all the deaths you caused, MURDERER!” In a display of force, he uncoiled all four of his mechanical arms and charged each one with energy. Instantly the tips of all four arms glowed with a bright light, as they each slithered around him with a mind of their own. But as a sentient being the arms aimed themselves at their enemy, locking what passes as their eyes with their opponents, they seemed pleased with there masters idea to kill. Waisting no more time Jack unleashed a barrage of energy blasts, each the size of a common basket ball, but with enough power to blast through a 12 inch wall of concrete. To make it worse, filled with Jack’s temper, he would continue to release wave after wave of energy until he felt assured the fallen dead around him were avenged!
Arthur looked over and noticed a large group of energetic blasts coming at him from a distance. He quickly took a defensive position to prepare for this attack to reach him. He flew into the air and quickly dodged as many of the attacks as he could, some however where to fast and or large for him to dodge. He didn't want to make the matter any worse then it already was, so he made haste and got out of the area as quickly as he could.
He landed about a block away from his attacker and seemed to have dealt with the situation the right way. The person in the distance seemed to have stopped the assault after seeing that he was gone. But he looked over his shoulder and noticed that there was another enemy nearby. He then got ready for an attack of his own. He raised his arm, closed his fist and let out a trio of missiles.
(They were weapons of his own design that were more advanced than most. They were one inch long and half an inch wide each. Despite their size, they could unleash an explosion with a blast radius of ten feet They travelled at a speed of 60 feet per second and follow their targets to a limited degree.) The three of the missiles spiralled around each other before seperating to hit their target at different angles.
Standing from a distance, his enemy hovered in the air just above him, moving like a jet in a suit of armor. As for now he was out of Stomp’s reach making the fight a tad unfair. Still Evan held his ground, looking for the nearest truck to throw, with a look of anger in his eye. But as the man in the iron suit raised his arm in his direction, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce something bad was about to happen. With a roaring sound of exhaust, three missiles slightly smaller than the ones recognized today, launched forth targeting in his direction, with a jet trail blazing behind each one. At this point to Evan they were no larger than a speck of dust in the sky, but at the way they were coming in, he knew it was an attack!
With only seconds before annihilation, Evan raised his two enormous hands out to his side, only to bring them in together, in one massive...CLAP! At that moment in time a force of wind was created from the impact, that rippled outwards in a wave, pushing and shoving everything out of its path. But as it spread its way out, ever expanding, it reached the missiles with an irresistible force! Immediately there was a huge explosion in the sky as two of the missiles blew up on contact. But just as the fireball was erupting one of the three missiles survived. Circling in from a different trajectory, the lone missile stayed on target, and before Evan knew it, it struck!
Hitting Stomp on his blind side, the steroid stampeder was briefly forced back, from the impact alone. As for the fire and shrapnel, they engulfed him both releasing a double threat that would kill a normal man a dozen times over, but Stomp was no normal man. The damage from the shrapnel was minimal as his hide was immensely durable. Despite the force of impact, he received only minor cuts and scratches, and that which pierced his skin was eventually forced out as his healing factor kicked in. The fire, however, hurt more, as it spread out and consumed him from all sides. In those few seconds, a thin layer of skin covering his outside crackled and singed away, activating dozens of tiny little nerves in a wave of pain. But just like the shrapnel, the pain quickly went away leaving behind an even angrier Stomp!
Now, even more than ready to fight back, Stomp sized up his enemy [you] for his counter strike. With his muscles rippling he grabbed the nearest streetlight post with both hands and ripped it out from the cement it was in bedded into. Instantly concrete an sparks flew, as the ground open wide, followed by a chain reaction of all the other streetlights shutting down simultaneously. Standing as a massive force in the dark, Stomp held the steel rod as a bat, and with a quick, “Batters Up!” he swung. Aiming at his opponents torso he held nothing back, swinging with a force that could topple a building. Although there was no skill involved in the swing, it was still coming in fast, meant to kill!
Adrenaline surged through the swordsman's veins. There was nay even a thought behind his evasion, pure combative instinct driving him to leap a good forty feet above the makeshift metal bat. His cloak billowed in the wind as he made his graceful descent, landing with the soundless finesse of a feline.
Andoran heaved a great sigh of relief. Had he even moved a hair of a second later, he would've been killed. A streetlight swung with enough power to level a building would've ruptured every iota of his mortal being. He needed to be more careful; there was too much he had to live for to be felled so violently.
Setting his attention on his next opponent [you], Andoran tore across the battlefield at blurring speeds. The wind felt sharp as he charged forward, yet he ignored it, driven by a single-minded determination to succeed. Rather than draw his katana, however, he tugged the entire scabbard free from his belt. In that single, fluid motion (coupled with his seemingly supernatural speed), he sought to swing the scabbard hard into the back of his opponent's neck.
Evan was ready to throw down, fist for fist, blow for blow, but upon the moment his enemy moved, he lost sight of him. Moving faster than a blur his enemy raced across the battlefield in seconds while drawing his entire scabbard free from his belt. Already a gust of wind swept the battlefield followed by a small whirlwind of trash that was once littering the street. Standing like a statue compared to his enemies speed, Evan was defenseless against the speedster., even as his eyes darted from side to side. Within the brief seconds that passed, his foe was already on top of him, swinging his sheathed blade like a pro, coming in at his exposed neck, utilizing all his speed, strength and skill. Unable to avoid the attack, Evan took the full blow. Like a small edged battering ram it collided, striking in hard and deep, due to the advantage of being swung by a speedster. But when compared to the enormous durability of his thick hide, the attack was no more than swinging a baseball bat against a steel pole. It was no more than a sharp second of pain as he felt the sensation vibrate through his nerves, but shortly afterwards it faded away. In response it was more like being stung by a bee rather than being cut by the skilled edged blade of one who mastered it!
Acting out of pure impulse, Evan spun around with his hand open wide ready to swat away whatever struck him. Moving in as fast as an above peak human could, he manage to catch a glimpse of his attacker, still hovering behind him. Lucky for Evan that was all he needed. With his exposed back hand, he released one wholly mother of a God like pimp slap. But whether or not he swatted away the threat, he no doubt eliminated it, long enough for him to heal and recompose himself. It was then he noticed a new enemy [You] standing tall to face him, within striking range. Waisting no time, he cocked back his right hand over his shoulder while making a mammoth fist, utilizing all his skills as a professional boxer. Then at the right moment, he swung his upper body into motion, bringing is fist into play, in one sweet right cross at his opponents face. Should he collied with anything below ‘just above peak human’, his blow could knock a persons head off! But like some, Evan felt it was the right time to toss in his catch phrase, and as his fist was in motion he shouted, “Out of My Way!”
Never before had Flynn faced such a mammoth sized opponent. His enemy outclassed him in size, strength and possibly even speed. As he stood in the shadow of his foe, for the first time a wave of doubt crossed his mind as he stood toe to toe with an opponent twice his size. But one never to give in, he gripped the bow in his right hand tighter, as he steadied himself and proceeded to systematically take down his opponent. With a watchful eye he noticed his enemy cocked back his right hand over his shoulder, an easy tale that a right cross was heading his way. Immediately he responded by planting his right foot behind him, not only to brace himself but provide the leverage needed to duck under the swing. As the Elephant man was too busy shouting, “Out of My Way!” Flynn was busy bending at the waist in order to preform a peak human athletic twist.
Like a cork screw, he kicked off from the ground, twisting his body in a horizontal spin, six feet off the ground and one foot below his enemies swing. To keep up the momentum, he kept his body spinning by kicking his legs like a propeller, rotating his body around and around until the incoming attack had been neutralized. Once out of danger, he finished by planting his left hand firmly on the ground after which he jerked his body to preform a flawless somersault, ending safely on both feet five yards to the left of his opponent. Then without wasting another second, he reached into his quiver and pulled forth a rarely seen arrow, one with a tip made of adamantuim, and after placing it across his bow, let it fly at near point blank range. Aiming at his foes exposed side, he hoped the arrow had enough force to penetrate his enemies thick hide and do some severe internal damage.
But whether or not he put down the massive Elephant Man, his attention was drawn to a new figure [You] standing on the battlefield a good twenty yards away. Wasting no time Flynn once again reached into his quiver and pulled forth another of his special little arrows. This one of course was his ‘Net Arrow’ that he quickly laid across his bow and sent flying aimed at the strangers midsection. But what made it special was after whistling along at an alarming rate, the tip split open to reveal an ever widening steel chain net, ready to ensnare the stranger securely. However, assuming the stranger was trapped within the net, and was planning to use some enhanced strength to tear himself/herself free, the net was ready to release 30 watts of charged electricity throughout it every time it was bent or rustled.
"Diaz, handle it."
As Grant Diaz stepped forth, confident in his purpose, he was instantly snared by the net. Steel links closed upon him in a cold embrace, electricity searing cloth and skin.
"Enough, Grant, finish it."
A not so subtle smirk crossed the villainous shape shifter's melting face. Mud and clay sopped through the metal net, undeterred by the burning electricity, the form returning to its somewhat human manifestation on the outside of the net. A gurgling laugh emerged from still bubbling humanoid shape outside the trap. Debris absorbed in the transition made its way to the surface, even metal links broken in the passing appearing outside his clay shell.
Then, in an instant, all was fired forth in an omnidirectional explosion, metal, stone, and hardened clay rocketing out in every direction with all the force of an M67 fragmentation grenade, and even then the gurgling laughter continued.
A slight curse word crossed his lips, watching as his arrow proved useless. However, he did learn one thing in this fight, and that was, his opponent was a clay based shape shifter. In his head he began running tactical situations for the creatures defeat, ranging from hot to cold attacks and anything in between. With that in mind he was ready to pull an appropriate arrow from his quiver, when he noticed his enemy projecting a massive collection of metal, stone, and hardened clay rocketing out in every direction. With no place to hide Flynn had less than seconds to react before being ripped to shreds, by a force equal to a M67 fragmentation grenade, and it would have be a lot easier, if it had not been for his opponents gurgling laughter. In one fluid like motion Flynn pulled forth an arrow, with more of a computer chip tip than the traditional steel, and with less than seconds before being shredded, slammed the arrow into the ground. Immediately a pulsating sound resonated as a shield of energy surrounded him. No larger than an Igloo, it protected him against the shrapnel as each tiny piece, collided with it, only to ricochet off in another direction, after a loud crackling sound from the shield.
For what seemed an eternity he took a knee under his shield, waiting until the attack to end. Outside the barrage continued, until the final, ‘Zap’ echoed outside. With a mighty jerk he pulled the arrow out of the ground as the shield fizzled away, as he quickly rose to his feet ready for some overdue payback. Locking his eagle eye upon his opponent [You], he wasted no time in pulling forth another of his trick arrows, this one appearing normal. But as he let it fly, he couldn’t help remark , “Listen to this!” as the arrow began to split open. Inside of it was an ever expanding speaker, that from nowhere began blaring out decibels capable to make a humans ear bleed. At the same time, at the rear of the arrow, two tiny jet thruster sprung forth in order to hold it fifteen yards away from its target, were it would continue screaming out for at least 2 agonizing minutes.
Catching a glimpse of the moonlight shining off the blade, Marcus was able to see the incoming attack in time. With superb skill he began the dance of avoidance as he bobbed and weaved around the blade, keeping himself just a hair away from the sharpened edge, no matter what. Although the swordsman was skilled he made the mistake of a rudimentary strike utilizing none of his advantages other than the dark shade of night. Although it was a common mistake, one he was sure his enemy would never make again, Marcus decided to teach him a lesson, one he would never forget.
Keeping his enemy in striking distance, Marcus waited for the right moment to strike, while never telegraphing his next move. Hoping to catch his enemy [You] off guard, he began a swift round house kick, by pivoting off his left foot and swinging his right around his frame at a 360 degree angle. Amplified with his advantage in size, he spun around fast, or as fast as a peak human could, hoping to slam his size 13 boot to the right side of his opponents jaw. But as he swung in motion, he couldn't help but taunt, “Good Night!”
King Kroc, his indestructible belly intact, spits out a razor-sharp tooth along with a gout of blood.
"Eh? That's a new one," he muttered.
Without skipping a step, he smiles a fully-fanged grin, his teeth already having grown back into place. With massive tree-like arms swing out in a cyclone of muscle and scale, ripping in a random direction towards the nearest enemy.
Once again Flynn was in a dance of death, facing off against a giant reptile, that gave off a foul smelling odor. Already out sized, as well as out muscled, his only advantage in a close range fight was his speed and agility. As the reptile attacked, he swiped with his massive arms, clawing through the air with authority, as his claws came ever closer with each swing. In response Flynn bobbed and weaved, bending and stretching his body as he had been trained, just to avoid death by mere inches. When the reptile swung from right to left, Flynn countered by ducking his head and rotating his upper body counter clockwise until the arm passed over. When his enemy slashed from the ground up, Flynn would arch back allowing the strike to miss him just before he returned to a fighting stance. For the rest, it all came down to reflexes as his enemy continued to slice away while Flynn fought for his life.
Knowing full well he could not keep up this dance forever, his best chance for survival would be putting some distance between them. Building off his adrenaline, he waited for his enemy to lower his guard, then moved. Kicking off with both feet, Flynn arched his upper body back beginning a flawless executed back flip. Within seconds he tucked his legs to his chest putting himself into a ball as he rotated back over and over until he finished by straightening his body and landing perfectly on both feet. With a bit of charm in his voice he shouts out, “Nice try fella!” while at the same time reaching for two titanium tipped arrows, and with great speed lays them across his bow. Wasting no more time he locks on his target [You]with his eagle eye, and lets go of the string. Immediately, the two arrows soared, both perfectly aimed for his enemies shins. With an every increasing whistling sound they flew crossing the battlefield with a speed that rivaled a bullet. That, matched with the shredding power of a titanium tip, would provide it with enough force to pierce right through his opponents leg and leave them in a crippled state.
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