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Good fights last round guys, but let's see more action this round. Otherwise, just have fun.

Aaaand, we're off!

1. This will be judged by three people and have sixteen combatants. All round battles are in ONE TOPIC. For example, “First Round” will be for the first set, “Second Round” for the second set, etc. This matches the most recent and also the most classic form for the NLBFT.

2. You should try to take this a bit more seriously than a typical battle. I won’t restrict who joins and who doesn’t, but use your brain, it's pretty easy to figure out if you're ready for this or not. This event typically attracts the best our forum has to offer, so if you're new, don't expect special treatment. But you probably knew that already, so on to the less snobby rules.

3. There is a strict time limit. I've reset this to 2 days before a full point is lost, and one more before you're up for either another deduction or possible elimination. I'll make exceptions where due, but we need to make this a little quicker than last few times around. Remember this, as it is standard, and complaints will only be considered if they are not simply whining. Also, reasons to have been absent are to be discussed by the judges as acceptable or not. If your computer explodes and you had no access to another, fine, but if you were too lazy to try, it's elimination.

4. The judge's word is final. I want to see good sportsmanship from the loser, and likewise from the winner.

5. The first to post has battlefield choice in their specific battle. Make it something interesting. That's all we ask of you here. :P

Battle rules:

The rules of engagement here follow the basic rules of the Gunjin. No transforming/switching characters, no healing, no cheapness/god-moding, etc. All violations, as viewed by the judges, will be considered for possible deduction of points.

Alpha division:
1.Luigi007 vs. 7.Trickster-kun
2.Metal Man vs. 4.IRHP

Beta division:
7.Vapor vs. 5.Repster
3.Psychokid303 vs. 4.Acradius

(Note: Matches were made at random via a name drawing from a plate.)

Judges:
Seat 1: Galefore
Seat 2: Tazy
Seat 3: Saria Dragon

I'll let this end Next Friday, July 3, at about 5 or 6 PM Central Time.

GO GO GO GO GO

OOC: I'll post the arena, IRHP.



It was another normal day in Monument Valley, a land which sat between two states: Utah and Arizona. It would become a part of a new border today: reality and unreality. As the sun shined high in the sky, a ripple formed in the otherwise endlessly brown ground and green shrubbery.

Here in this holy land a supernatural event occurred--at the center of the soon-to-be battlefield was a towering monolith. No, it was called a mesa--an angular, chunky rock formation which jutted out of the ground like the tip of an upturned thumb. Lined with varying shades of brown rock and laced with the occasional brownish-green bush plant, it was like a great altar to the Gods.

All was quiet at first in the arid, dry desert badlands. But then... a silver fingertip reached forth from the side of the mesa. Then... a foot... a hand... a shiny visor. Whatever it was walked right through the rock like it wasn't there. It was twenty feet off the ground, too.

Metal Man, finished with one battle, had accidentally encountered another. After taking that turn at the subway, he realized he had traveled the wrong path. But nothing confirmed his suspicions quite like FLYING THROUGH A WALL OF ROCK!

His armor systems screamed at him as he suddenly was forced into the large, blue and brown world of Monument Valley. He stood for a moment, about 7 feet tall in this current reality. His gleaming, shiny armor of silver metal looked impressive under the clear sunlight. For a moment, he thought he was safe, so he put his metallic hands on his hips and spoke. "Well, this doesn't look too bad."

Then the reality of his immense weight cracked through a narrow rock shelf he had been standing on. "OOF OW ARGH GAH NO BAH!" *SLAM* The metallic smash sound cascaded into the open air and faded away as quickly as it had been made. The smell of dried rock was now in the air. The Metal Man had landed on a small, skinny tree, at the bottom of the hill. He slowly stood up and coughed, even though the small cloud of dust he stirred up had been filtered thoroughly before reaching his lungs. He glanced into his right wrist, using the mirror-like finish to determine how he was.

He saw his miser-like visage behind the cloudy blue visor. His beady blue eyes of chaotic anger were only slightly bloodshot. The face of a thousand frowns remained deeply wrinkled and scarred. As for his shoulders, those had changed, ever so slightly--the warp had somehow changed his unassuming, rounded shoulders into rounded half-cones with abruptly squared off edges. They protruded about 5 inches from his shoulder horizontally. They also shined magnificently in the afternoon sun.

The clean air was a refreshing escape for the mad man's lungs, as he took a deep breath. He looked at his clock, which was on his left wrist. It said the time was 'OMG WTF'. "What? No. The time is not OMG WTF! No one is attacking me, stupid clock!" His gravelly voice scratched out from his helmet vocoder as he smacked his left wrist awkwardly.

A ways to the South of the Metal Man's location, a small, newly opened hotel sat on the edge of a cliff. A similarly worn man was sitting at an old rounded brown table. He was reading the daily news. All was fine in his little hotel-world until suddenly, empty glass of morning coffee shook. The smell of coffee still in his mind, the old man stared out a crystalline clean window into the valley.

There was a silver man, who looked like he was part race-car. And there he was, mucking about on his property. "What the hell???" The man shook his head--he was an American man, and intruders were not to be respected. The old hotel man got out his shotgun and wandered out his door slowly, as he pondered whether it was a good idea to confront the racecar man without a posse to back him up.

Meanwhile, as a tumbleweed blew past, Metal Man began to recognize the land about him. Here it was! The place seen in countless Western movies he had seen while going between time and space. And here, as his clock warned him, a battle was about to go down. Resigned to his fate of endless battling, the Metal Man took out his closest thing to a six-shooter--his Soviet TT33 pistol. It shined in the sunlight just like he did. It also fit his outfit, since it, too, was all-chrome. As a twinge of glorified trombone music began to play in his head, the Man of Steel whirled about and faced the large, empty space between the mesa he had landed at, and another, mitten-shaped mesa off to his right. He crunched the grit with his right foot as he narrowed his gaze and stared out into the great blue yonder with an expression of interest. He thought to himself. Well, may as well get this show started. A lot less freakin' idiots in my way this time, at least. Then Metal Man spun the pistol in his hand and pointed it... nearly dropping it before then catching himself. I should learn not to do that. I'm not in a movie. He shook his head, even though nobody else would get why he did that.

Then he jabbed the pistol out at the blue yonder, as sweat formed on his brow, tension causing his heart to begin to flutter. "All right then, I know you're out there. Show yourself!"

A quiet breeze crossed the valley, and another tumbleweed blew by the man of steel.

OOC I hope you don't mind Aradius but i'm just going to reuse my first entry post, with a few alterations that is.

IC

n the dimly lit halls of a decrepit old hospital we can see brief glimpses of a man darting between shadows. The flickering lights of the recently vacated building help to hide him as he moves. He stands at six feet seven inches tall, his look is overall unkempt and shaggy. Shoulder length black hair streaked with gray, dark red irises, a thin lined face showing a great deal of stress and apathy completed his look, a torn white trench coat over a blue shirt, a large black leather messenger bag slung across his shoulder, olive drab pants and brown running shoes complete the picture of a man who goes by the name Lawrence Williams.

As Will turns a corner down another dilapidated hallway, his running shoes making the occasional squeak against the white tiled floors. Fearing that the noise would reveal him to his so far unseen adversary he quickly, and quietly ducks into a supply closet closing the door behind him as silently as possible given his haste.

Knowing that he had little time to waste he hurriedly grabs several boxes of various items; scalpels, forceps, syringes, even a bottle of Hydrogen Peroxide, anything he can find and shoves them into his bag after cracking the boxes open. This task accomplished he once more digs into his bag and produces a length of braided burlap rope, the forty inch rope had two loops in it the smaller one was quickly slid onto the first finger of his right hand, the second larger loop was quickly filled with a large lead round, The oval round was three inches long and an inch across engraved upon it was the short phrase “For your heath.” Once the round was loaded he grabbed the other end of the rope ready to fire at a seconds notice.

His primary weapon loaded and some ad hock secondaries acquired Will took a deep breath ready to face yet another opponent who wanted to crack his scull for one reason or another. Really he didn't know why most people he ran across seemed to be rather eager for combat. He then calmly exited the closet, deliberately began to stroll down the hallways of his chosen battleground, as he took in the sights of the place; peeling paint, cracked tiles, doors falling of hinges, lights barely clinging to the ceiling, and the odd shattered window. The many objects within his bag clattering against each other, it would serve him well, there were many places for him to hide, run, and acquire items to use as improvised weaponry in this three story building. Now all he had to do was wait for his foe to make the next move, then the game would truly begin

Y HELO THAR SLIGHT REVAMP

The Town was burning. Flaming hell was everywhere.

Timber supports flared and burned to ash. Thatched roofs blazed brightly and tumbled down in fireballs of hay. The cattle ran madly, fleeing one inferno only to run into another blaze. The townfolks were also fleeing madly, a few attempting to quench the fires, some simply insane.

The surrounding forest stood still, silent. Within it, still, silent, perched a very tall figure on a high branch. Its spindly legs, covered in rough burlap, dangled off the branch, and he held on to the tree's trunk with his similarly spindly arm covered in a rough, dark green fabric. He held a very long scythe in his other arm and had a wide brimmed straw hat. In fact, without the scythe, he would look akin to a child sitting in a limb of an apple tree on a warm summer's day. He would also look like one if he didn't wear such a malicious face. A wide jagged grin spread across his head, with two narrow triangular eyes slanted downward. A bright candle flame projected light out of these. This face was not human, but a jack o' lantern head of a scarecrow with wickerwork bones and a stuffing of a rough fiber for his flesh. He was called Ven.

Ven loved arson. He loved to watch the world burn and know that he did it, to cause some chaos and watch everyone go crazy. He simply liked everything that burned. Maybe it was because of his own fire. He couldn't contain all of the grand fire burning within that was his soul, the spiritual blaze that gave him life. He chuckled.

He sat there for a long while. Eventually, the entire village had either burnt to cinders or some of the men had taken water from the river to stop the blazes. Either way, the town was destroyed. Giving out a giggle, which turned into a low cackle, Ven considered his job done and left.

The branches barely trembled at his weight as he leaped effortlessly from one to the other. He left a strand or two of white asbestos fiber on each piece of bark he touched. He traveled like this for a mile or so, giggling malevolently all the way, until he reached the forest's edge. He jumped off of a limb and landed with his feet and one hand on the ground. When he looked up, his expression changed to one of surprise.

He was looking at an old farm. This farm, too was burnt. By Ven's actions, of course. But this farm had significance. This farm he remembered. This was his farm. The one where he was first constructed as a mere tool to guard corn. A shiver ran down his wicker spine. Brushing it off, Ven strode into the field. His true, monstrous and gangly height was revealed by his loping gait. He knew what he wanted.

A while earlier, a stranger had told Ven to meet him here for what was promised to be an incredible fight. In the burnt barn was where it was to begin, and the stranger said that from there it would go to levels far beyond what one would normally expect from a burnt barnhouse. Ven didn't really know what was going on, but he considered the concept tantalizing anyway and agreed.

"HEY! HEY. HEYYYY. I'M HERE." He yelled. His voice was simultaneously like a low bonfire, rustling leaves, and a fat guy in a trailer park demanding a sandwich from his wife in the kitchen. "YOU HERE YET?...FINE." Ven adjusted his loose leather belt containing his pitchfork and crowbar and readied his scythe. Leaping up through a broken window to a charred hayloft, his negligible weight barely disturbed the cinders. He stood in the window and waited.

[(Luigi, if you may please make your post the first. Have a string of work going on, and not that much time to machinate for the next 2 days. I will respond in kind come Friday.)]

There are places, things, and even people in this world that have fallen between the cracks. Sometimes they simply get lost between some couch cushions, sometimes they're called away to important destinies far away from the prying eyes of the mundane. Some places linger long after their destinies are completed. That was what this place would soon become: just another part of the cracks. Just another building to house the people who had fallen through as well. The shelves would clutter with all assortment of objects that belonged to them. Society had officially swept this place, and everything that would be tied to it under the proverbial rug, never to return their sight this way again.

But not everyone had forgotten. And some never would.

Sitting in a room that the numbers had fallen off of long ago, a figure hunched in a chair, somberly staring at the once-pristine linen sheets of a bed. This was the room where Dominique died. Would die. It was all a matter of perspective. He had loved the young waitress whom he worked with at the bar called Harbinger's. She was cute, sassy, didn't take crap from all the guys that hit on her constantly. The man sitting there felt the sting, once again, of his heart as he remembered the way her perfect blond locks framed her face. It was by chance that he had jumped here into the future once, and had seen her on her deathbed. That was the reason he had decided not to pursue a relationship with her. He knew it would hurt that much more when she finally did die.

Acradius Journeyman held his silence for a long, drawn out moment. It was true, he could go back in time as often as he wanted and see her. He could chat with her, work a shift as a bouncer, and go home with his soul filled with beauty. But no matter how many times he did it, he knew that someday she would die, and it simply served to cause more pain. His home saved, he still quested. No longer bound to a single objective, he was free to follow his heart. His heart told him that he had to do some very taboo things to sate it. Sometimes he didn't feel like continuing down this path. It was those times that he came here. This place reminded him of what he was fighting for.

Footsteps down the hallway echoed into his sanctuary of mourning. Nobody comes here. Nobody remembers this place. Trouble. His instincts, honed from countless fights across space and time, told him to confront this intruder. It was not something he could simply let pass by. Besides, this was one of the only rooms with a bed left. If it was a squatter, he didn't want this shrine to his ambitions defiled.

He didn't even bother standing up. The Time Warrior's saddened, sober eyes sparked to life flaring to the white-hot stars they did when his psionics became active. He levitated himself into an upright position, and floated out the door of the room.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" His scream of rage sounded down the hall as the armored blonde figure flew towards the source of the disturbance. He hovered vertically, but leaning forward with his arms in a clear fighting position, seeking to be as panic-inducing as possible. For added effect, he sent out a slight shock wave through the air ahead of him. Just enough to cause the peeling paint to quiver and the broken window shades to shake. If he could scare the bejeezus out of whoever this invader was, all the better. He didn't want to fight in here unless he had to.

Hail to the King, Baby.

Duke was not having a good day. Those alien scumbags had shot up his ride, AGAIN. He was getting real sick of it. No how was in the middle of nowhere, and was stuck hoofing it back. At least he had kept his arsenal this time. He felt naked without his tool belt, and ammo belt passing over his shoulders in a parallel pair. His nigh indestructible shades were also as much of a part of him as his crew cut. Sure, his Jetpack was a bit drained from the fall of being shot out of the air, but that was nothing new.

Trusty shotgun in hand he kick down the barn door. instantly he saw Vren, and recognized a threat. Just as quickly his pistol was out of his hand and he brought up his RPG. The trusty pneumatic weapon could grab damn near any explosive and fire it with pinpoint accuracy guaranteeing a plentiful supply of ammunition.
"Suck it down." he deep gravely voice intoned as he squeezed the trigger on the cylindrical weapon that tapered to the business end.

The first of many explosives rocketed towards Vren, and Duke began walking sideways circling as he fired.

From the moment he had set foot into this desolate building Will had known that there was someone else inside of it. He could FEEL the power that the person radiated, and that had made him nervous from the moment he crossed the threshold onward, yet he need a place to stay and recollect his thoughts so he could continue to cope with his so called “fate.”

When he heard the shriek of rage and saw the imposing figure of the one he had somehow provoked into attack he felt still more fear. Part of this was because of the rather straightforward display of power that he'd been shown. The majority of his fear came from the fact that he COULD feel the strength within the man before him. Immortal or no Will could only sense three distinct types of power, even then he didn't come across two of those types very often so he could only guess at how strong this unknown adversary was.

During the few moments of silence Will was processing his thoughts his fear was made known to Acradius the near perpetual mask of apathy that covered his face fell. In that brief time Acradius could see just how tired, and worn the man before him truly was. Just as quickly though the spell was over, Will's mask returned he then rolled his eyes stared up at the ceiling and muttered “I swear I'll make that scythe swinging numismatist pay.” The odd threat was almost too quite for Acradius to hear but he heard it regardless of the speaker's intent.

Using the brief moment of confusion upon his opponents face will snapped his right arm forward, releasing the end of his sling and launching the round within in a low arc. As the round sailed forward and Smashed against Acradius' left knee Will darted forward, then dove toward the ground he had hoped that the attack would grant him enough of a distraction to dive forward, slide beneath his foe and dash down the hallway and allow him to begin his game of cat and mouse. The ultimate aim of said game being to tire Acradius out and allow himself to flee.

This was not to be as Acradius snapped his right leg forward with devastating force. Luckily for Will he was caught in the solar plexus rather then the head or neck. Unfortunately the force of the strike still sent him careening back down the hall and slamming into the wall at it's end. As he struggled to get up in spite or his body's protests he could see Acradius advancing on him looking rather more agitated then he had been before. When his flying opponent was less then ten feet away Will had finally got to his feet. Strait ahead was blocked by his foe, left and right were both clear though picking blindly Will dashed down a hallway as he reloaded his sling. Knowing that he was going to need to improvise if he didn't wish to spend the foreseeable future comatose recovering from his latest fight.

I OoC: I'll be using Grey Fox as Cyborg Ninja from "Metal Gear Solid: Twin Snakes" for this fight: Gray Fox - The Metal Gear Wiki - Metal Gear Solid Rising, Metal Gear Solid Peace Walker, Metal Gear Solid 4, and more

As the tumbleweed came by the man, along with it came a flash, and immediately the quick attacker had attacked in that instant, using a sweeping kick to the groin, sending the metal man into the air a dozen or so feet. The attacker was gone again; he had jumped up, flying past the airborne man, clenching his fists together for an attack. He slammed man in the center of his back, right about where a normal person's spine should be, sending this vicious attacker's foe rocketing into the earth below, forming a crater.

Dust had been strewn about in all of the surrounding air, and the Cyborg Ninja stood a few yards away from the crash site. When the dust settled, nobody was there. The Ninja wanted to look around but felt a tight grip around his neck, crushing with great power. He heard a sneering sound from behind himself, as he was being choked with but one hand, lifted off of the ground.

It didn't last long, as the Ninja used his legs to kick off of the giant, bouncing away to where the crater was. He cracked his neck and pulled out his sword, neither being saying a word yet.

The silence was broken when the Ninja laughed, maniacally.

"I didn't think anyone but him could give me a challenge."

Moving much faster than the Metal Man, the Cyborg Ninja had caught the Man of Steel off guard. And so, the great desolate plain became filled with the noises of steel bending and smashing into rocks. He had been thrown so hard as to make a freaking crater of all things--clearly, this Ninja possessed both strength and stealth. But as the metallic-smelling smoke rose from the crater Metal Man was in, the Ninja began to sense something was... off about what had just happened.

His raucous laughter stopped when he heard it joined by his foe. What... Metal Man was laughing along with his foe? The far harsher, metallic laughing signified something dark and vile. The clean air and sunlight took on a sinister quality, as it reflected off of the dented and dinged mass rising from the crater. With each loud, crunching step, the Metal Man came closer. He still clutched the pistol--he had used his left hand to choke this person he had considered unworthy.

The Ninja narrowed his brow and entered a combat stance; his reflexes were much better honed than Metal Man's. He had already smelled the sort of behavior Metal Man was going to do next. It all was going according to plan. What kind of weakling is this? Only he could stand a chance. I will destroy this man to show that I am tough eno--

But the Ninja's thoughts soon ended as the Metal Man pulled the trigger. BLAMM! A single silver bullet whizzed through the clear air at the cybernetic Ninja's face. CLANG! With but a simple shrug of his shoulder, the Cyborg Ninja deflected the bullet. Metal Man stood there as smoke slowly rose from the tip of the pistol barrel, as the tension grew between the two opponents.

As the Man of Steel's face tightened (visibly, seen under his faded blue visor) the man watching in the background clutched his rusted shotgun. He stared from a distance, trying to discern if these two ruffians would kill one another first. Either way, he wasn't one to run in head-first, so he shook his head, trembling. The man crept near some bushes and watched closer, as his hand twitched towards the cell phone prominently stuck to his cowboy belt. But will the police even believe me? They might think I've just gotten high off of something again. The hotel owner stood transfixed by the absolutely bizarre scene.

The breeze blew across as the cowboy-like standoff progressed. But since neither combatant was a cowboy... things went down in a far different manner from what would be expected.

The Man of Steel shot again; the Ninja parried it and went in for a stab. *SLICHT* The Ninja's sword stabbed a hole right through the Metal Man's arm. Red fluids spewed forth, and the Ninja went to withdraw his blade. But Metal Man's arm flew straight into his field of vision. And then, at the worst time possible, the sun reflected off of the blindingly polished arm directly into the Ninja's eye.

It was but a split second, but in that time, the Man of Steel's arm had arched like the head of an unruly bull. The Ninja's arm was involuntarily thrown towards himself, and with it, the sword. As the sword slashed the Ninja in the shoulder, the Metal Man then discharged his pistol right near the Cyborg Ninja's head.

BANG! Shot and a miss--but it didn't matter. The loudness of the bullet had nearly deafened the Ninja, and would make it much harder for him to track the Man of Steel. Growling, the Ninja shoved the Man of Steel backwards so hard he made another crater in the side of the Mesa. Another plume of flinty dust rose into the otherwise clear blue skies...

The Man of Steel shook his head as he pulled loose from the rock with a crisp CRUNCH noise. He shook his head, looking vaguely irritated. "You're no joke, but you are awfully simple for a Ninja... all the better for me."

The Cyborg Ninja was too busy planning his counterattack to care. As Metal Man finished his second sentence, he saw the Ninja had vanished.

The Man of Steel's eyes darted about nervously as he picked up some dirt. No matter, I... I can find him. Uhhh... ...why am I fighting people so similar to myself? This is... getting unnerving... He tensed his hands. But all he heard next was a slight 'WHIF' noise. A noise which signified the Ninja's lethal sword attack, headed straight for Metal's neck joint. The Man of Steel flung his head back violently, sustaining some painful spine damage from the recoil. But at least he had avoided decapitation. The Ninja's sword stuck in the rock with a metallic ringing noise.

A split second passed. Metal Man's armor moved quickly--he hurled a punch, slamming the Ninja in his elbow. But oddly... only dirt was left behind by this punch. The Ninja recoiled quickly, making Metal Man look slow and pathetic, as he wound up opposite Metal Man, ready to impale that slow moving statue of a person once and for all.

The Ninja spoke quickly. "You aren't worth my time. Too slow." The Ninja then swung his arm... *CLANK* ...He tried again... *CLANK* ...It became apparent the dirt had jammed his prototype Exoskeleton. His sword arm could no longer bend at the elbow, depriving the Ninja of the force needed to slash through Metal Man's thick armor. At least, without risking shoulder damage.

Metal Man's onscreen HUD lit up like a christmas tree at this, showing all the openings. Green lines appeared everywhere to tell him of just how vulnerable his foe was! But for once, the Man of Steel just went with his gut--his dented, pock-marked, scarred gut. With a tremendous metallic roar, Metal Man hurled his left fist alongside the crusty brown and red rock. The Ninja received a massive dose of jagged rocks to the face, followed by the Man of Steel's fist. And what a horrific taste of steel and dirt that was.

The Ninja didn't take this laying down, of course; he hurled a whip-like punch of his own, near the Man of Steel's windpipe. Metal Man coughed as a small fist-shaped crater appeared in the center of his chest, and then rapidly seized the Ninja's fist in his own, larger, robotic hand.

The Man of Steel was beyond playing games now. "You think I'm not a challenge? Perhaps that is because you are not a challenge... for me!" A sickening crunch was heard as Metal Man's robotic hand crunched the Ninja's fingers almost like a Metal Gear would, proportionally, stomp a human. The Man of Steel then threw the arm and hand he had grabbed to the right quickly, causing the Gray Fox of a Ninja to spin around counter-clockwise.

Then he spun his right hand pistol and emptied the rest of his magazine into the spinning Ninja. But the Ninja fought back... *BLAMWHIFFBLAMBLAMWHIRR* *CRACK!* The Ninja had deflected two of the bullets, one of which solidly embedded itself in Metal Man's visor. The Man of Steel let out a surprised gasp. "Well, I guess you aren't dog meat, but... ...I'm not going to take a beating from a mono-dimensional being!"

Metal Man ran forward like a furious locomotive, steam and oil gushing from his overheated joints. His foe had stopped spinning--and was now back on the attack Although the Ninja now surely should be bleeding somewhere, Metal Man couldn't tell yet. After all, there was that bullet blocking the center of his vision, and a whole lot of scuff marks from that earlier roll in the rocks.

Metal Man picked the bullet out of his windshield, only to just as quickly find the Ninja's blade flying at his face. "Gah! Stop being so fast!" *CLINKSH* The blade stabbed in, but Metal Man deflected it with his sturdy left arm. Then, having become fed up with just plain attacks, he went in for the kill.

As the Ninja whirled around like a marionette on speed, Metal Man reached for his left side. He whipped out another Soviet pistol and spun it. Then.. ...oops. He let go too soon and it began spinning upwards into the air. The Ninja just as quickly leaped out of nowhere at him, ready to stab him good. Metal Man gritted his teeth. I'm out of ammo and he's coming at me! Sonuva--

But his thoughts were interrupted by his much faster actions. The Man of Steel spun his trusty right pistol around and ejected the cartridge right into the Ninja's face. Then he pistol-whipped the hand holding the sword with such force it sent the Ninja's arm flying backwards at an unnatural angle and knocked the sword loose.

With moves that would belong more in a circus than a spaghetti western, Metal Man then hurled the spinning gun into his foe's face. The Ninja was knocked back a little... just enough, though. *BONK!* The wayward gun smashed the Ninja right in the head and richocheted off. Metal Man laughed at this--the Ninja had not expected this, since only a computer could pull off such precision. Unluckily for the Ninja... Metal Man was, in some ways, more machine than man!

As the cry of a Red Tailed Hawk pierced the sky above, Metal Man grabbed the gun and violently blasted the Ninja. This time, there would be no deflection. *BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM!* The eight bullets sunk into their target with sickening noises, pushing him back... back into a sharp-looking tree. *SLICHT!* ...It stabbed him in the back!

As the two chromed figures fought in the sun, the confused hotel owner scratched his head. How do they avoid dying of sun stroke? It's 90 degrees out here, for crissakes! He fumbled for a drink himself, having wisely remembered to bring a beer. No longer interested in apprehending these strange fighters, the man instead looked around and went... for his camera. What a fortune some of these pictures will make! ...And if they don't leave, I can still hope one of them dies instead...

The Ninja's dust-covered, nearly blinded vision and most likely ringing ears would see and hear the Man of Steel standing over him, wielding a smoking gun. The Man of Steel spoke. "What kind of Ninja are you, anyway? I'll get rid of you like--" *SMACK!* The Ninja kicked the gun away and peeled himself off the bush, and stood at the ready, right near his sword.

Metal Man swore and coughed some blood. "Dammit! Tricked again!" The Man of Steel wiped some of his lubriblood off onto the lush green bushes next to him, and prepared for what would probably be another crater-filled experience.

Just another day in Monument Valley, eh?

Hell.

This was really hell. The domain of the damned. Lakes of magma, pillars of fire, and a scorching atmosphere. Only the truly wicked would be sent to this inferno, where fire licked at the very bone of its victims. Those that were evil had no hope of escape. After all, the purpose of hell is to hold those that are not worthy to enter the afterlife, like many of earth's earlier generations.

So why is it that Hanzo Hasashi, one of the greatest ninjas of the Shirai Ryu clan, resided here? He led a proud life. He brought glory to his clan as well as maintained a loving family. He was feared by his enemies, honored among his men.

Then, the day came when he was sent on a mission by Quan Chi, sorceror and server of the fallen Elder God, Shinnok. Unknown to Hanzo, the sorceror had given the exact same task to the leader of the rival clan, the Lin Kuei. The two faced each other in kombat, however the leader proved to be superior, and proceeded to execute Hanzo. His killer's name was Sub-Zero.

Time passed, and Hanzo heard that Sub-Zero would be participating in the Mortal Kombat tournament. By becoming an undead warrior, the ninja emerged unto Earthrelm. Here, he was given animation once more on the living plane. However, his skin was merely artificial, and his head was no longer identifiable. Donning his trademark black hood and yellow bandana, only his eyes were visable to his opponents, giving the appearance he was indeed a mortal. This secret would be revealed only to those would die.

It was now round two of Mortal Kombat. Still no sign of Sub-Zero, Scorpion was worried that his opponent may be slain before he had a chance. Nonetheless, Scorpion would not lose this next fight. He wanted to face Sub-Zero. He would have his revenge. For his fallen clan, for his lost family.

For the life he had been rejected.

Raiden, the God of Thunder, however, noticed the spectre's plans. At this time, the god had not been so passionate about protecting Earthrelm other than making sure the first tournament was won by the Earth warriors, preventing Shang Tsung from taking over. Raiden waited until Scorpion and his opponent took their position on the stone field; with a snap of the finger, the ground gave away to the battle arena and plunged deep underground. Scorpion looked around, then realized what was happening. The God of Thunder wanted to give Scorpion the home field advantage. Perhaps the Thunder God wanted Scorpion to finish off Sub-Zero for what had happened years ago.

"Unfortunatly for you, human!" Scorpion shouted at his opponent in a deep, raspy voice, "You won't be cut any breaks here! Welcome to hell!" The yellow clad ninja suddenly shot his harpoon-spear at the opposing figure.



"Now! GET OVER HERE!"

The Cyborg Ninja had sustained considerable damage, yet had at least begun to chip away at the creature of incomprehensible strength. He was wrong, obviously, thinking that only one being could pose to him the challenge he sought. But it still wouldn't be enough to stop him from having the fight he so desired, he wouldn't die here, he thought as he readied an onslaught.

The Ninja kicked up some nearby dirt, making a decent distraction for a moment. He rushed through it at his foe almost immediately, with his sword held behind him ready for a deep and finishing thrust, or so it seemed. The Metal Man went out to grapple with the sparking, damaged Ninja, ready to annihilate the person right through the exoskeleton before he could even reach out the poised sword.

It wouldn't be so easy with this one though, as things aren't always as they seem, especially when dealing with one capable of invisibility; something he'd know very soon. The Ninja went for a sweeping kick instead of a direct finishing thrust, and the statuesque, metallic beast went down hard and fast, due to an axe kick to the lower abdomen. However, the Man of Steel caught himself with one hand and immediately flung up one about to fire at the Ninja. The Ninja who wasn't there anymore, but which was in the sky, coming down with his sword in a downward thrust just a second away from impact. No time to aim and fire for a direct shot, so Metal Man did something the Ninja didn't expect for one of such size; he actually performed a handstand and kicked the Ninja away, cracking his neck, very unlike how he had done it himself earlier.

However, he caught himself midair, and landed gracefully into the original thrusting position he once struck. Except this time he was invisible shortly after taking the stance, and moving forward. The Metal Man laughed. Such a fool to try the same move, but to think it would work now that he is merely invisible! He wanted to laugh but that would forfeit the knowledge to Cyborg Ninja that he knew about his plan, and stood acting somewhat confused.

The Ninja went for a thrust after jumping in the air, hoping it'd work as planned...

It was right, that Metal Man was confused--he had no clue what his foe was getting at... what his foe had planned. Metal Man had a foot-shaped gash in his midsection and some dust on his armor, but otherwise had survived the Ninja's round of attack relatively unscathed. The Man of Steel shook his head. "What are you going to do, trick me?"

*SLAM* The Ninja stabbed Metal Man directly in the helmet and knocked him over backwards, causing a nice CRUNCH and popping something. The glass in Metal Man's visor became rife with hairline cracks as well. The Man of Steel tasted a bitter copper flavor in his mouth, but he could not spit--so he swallowed the bitter poison and looked around. Alas, his visor was ajar--and there was a nice gash in the top. The Ninja, wishing to make the most of his invisibility, then remained invisible.

Metal Man's oak-like face grew slightly more lifelike as his normally pale face lit up with fury. He immediately reached for his cockeyed helmet and smacked it into place, before then stomping back into position and, for no explicable reason, moved at top speed towards a nearby tourist trap.

The man who owned the hotel had gotten many pictures at this point. They were scenic images of two shiny men beating the #$%^ out of one another. All had gone well until the crazed bulky man had begun to run towards the hotel owner's very own visitor's center. His thoughts on this were simple. S#$t! The older man felt electrified and suddenly ran after the strange man, afraid that his livelihood would be destroyed by this inexplicable event. Sweat ran down his face in trickles as the all-too-bright sun had begun to wear down his cool demeanor.

Meanwhile, on the shinier, more artificial side of things, Metal Man reached the tourist trap. There were few people here despite the wonderful weather, but what few remained soon ran for the safety of their cars and the open road. Especially since this shiny Metallic Man was leaking what looked like red antifreeze all over the pavement. The mere stench and sight of the ghastly fluid drying up in the hot sun was a horror normally reserved for those in morgues, after all.

The Metal Man had had enough of this ninja mystique, and this ninja sneakiness. In his world, one either fought brutally to the death or they didn't; this ninja posed an annoying in-between. He stared blankly at the one-story tan building before him, and the armada of shiny SUVs in the parking lot. Then something caught his eye--a blindingly red and shiny Coca-Cola machine, which had to have been at least 40 years old. Its old timey logo called out to Metal Man in a similar way that flashing lights attracted drunk drivers--a sort of unnatural compulsion, erratic. A glitch of the brain. It didn't help that he was dehydrated from the sun and injuries.

The Ninja, amused by his foe's rage, had wandered right over by that machine. He had seen the Man of Steel heading there a mile away and easily beat him to it. The Ninja remained lurking in wait so he could once again stab the stupid, slow Man of Steel through the heart and end it right then and there. Sure enough, Metal Man (and the smell of coolant and oil) came towards him. He prepared like predator stalking its prey.

The Man of Steel, thirsty beyond comparison, reached out for the machine with desperate urgency. *SNAP!* He ripped the hinge off of it like it was some cheap toy and revealed the glassed glory within. The sun glinted magnificently off of the lined up racks of unsold soda.

Meanwhile, the hapless owner of the machine and tourist trap clutched his straw hat and gun, and ran--to the side. He had had enough, he would call the cops now. The men he had watched--they were not normal people. Shotgun shots would not deter him. Or at least, that's what he thought.

The Man of Steel had ripped open the steel vending machine. An air of coldness seeped out and washed over the Metal Monolith's taxed frame. But this was no time to be slow--he immediately grabbed a glass bottle of Coca Cola and spun his helmet off almost as quickly as he had spun the top of the bottle off. Then he began to drink the murky liquid. The refreshing coldness put out the fiery heat of the sun for a moment, which was just what he needed after all that hot fighting in the sun.

The Ninja saw this was the time to strike--the Man of Steel's weak looking neck was exposed, and both of his hands were full. Moving like an unexpected strike of lightning in a snowstorm, he flew from the side and went to decapitate this annoying Metal Man. All it took was one nice two-handed swing...

But that was not the end, nor did it go as the Ninja had expected!

*CLINK* The Man of Steel, feeling a breeze of hot air disrupt his refrigerated glee, spun around. Thus, the Ninja's sword pierced not Metal Man's sweaty, pale flesh, but the glass of the bottle of Cola. The soda Metal Man was guzzling from, of all things!

The Ninja felt as if he had the upper hand--he went to move his sword to slash the man's lips--

But the movement never finished. Metal Man's normally serene, cold blue eyes had lost their pupils. Just as the sword went to cut down the bottle and into his vulnerable cheeks, the Man of Steel forced his powerful metallic hand into the bottle and the blade. *SMASH* Cola and glass flew everywhere, momentarily stunning the Ninja and getting some nasty bits in the Man of Steel's suit. Oh well, Metal Man thought. That's going to only be water under the bridge soon enough!

The Ninja readied his innate knowledge of attack and defense to fight the Man of Steel's unarmed assault. But no such unarmed attack arrived. Instead, Metal Man gripped another bottle of cola and threw it. *SMASH* Then he threw another one. *SMASH* He took the third one and STABBED it into the Ninja. *SMMMASH!!!*

The Ninja was now coated in soda and cut by glass. Metal Man dropped the helmet from his left hand, his irises gone as he had become overtaken with some unearthly rage, a horrible hatred few people could survive. And the Ninja, despite his own credentials, could feel a slight shiver down his spine. Or perhaps that was just the soda?

The Ninja lurched forward to stab Metal Man--but the Man of Steel threw him off guard with a guttural scream: "YOU--" *SMASH* "DON'T" *SMASH* "SNEAK" *SMASH* "UP" *SMASH* "ON" *SMASH* "METAL MAAAAAAAAAN!" *SMASHSMASHSMASHSMASHSMASHSMASHSMASH.*

Blood dripped to the floor, as the Man of Steel was now covered in glass shards, Coca Cola, and the blood of his foe. Tens of Coca Cola bottles had been smashed into the Ninja. Normally the strong, cybernetic Ninja would have shrugged these wounds off. But each can had been smashed into him (along with the cap) at inhuman speeds... by inhumanly strong hands. The sun's reflection glistened on the soda-based violence, as the Ninja staggered back, preparing to go invisible again. He had had enough of this Coca Cola nonsense and was going to try some invisible stabbing instead.

"No. NOT THIS TIME! NOT NOW... NOT EVER AGAIN! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" The insane metallic screech echoed between the few crusty brown Mesas nearby. A nearby window even cracked. The blood of the hotel warden ran cold for a moment as he heard the hateful scream all the way across the parking lot.

Oh, the Metal Man's rage was so complete, that further description failed to explain it. The Man of Steel lifted up the entire Coca Cola machine, still half-full, and lunged at the Ninja. *SLICHT!* The Ninja stabbed Metal Man in the chest, but he didn't care--someone had broken the soda he was drinking... with sneaky tactics at that! In Metal Man's mind... such an act deserved death. To him... it was worse than even sneakiness... for only bandits and barbarians would do such a thing. And, in more normal circumstances, the people Metal Man preyed on usually fit one category or the other one.

*SLAMMMM* With a loud metallic clank, the Ninja's head was smashed through the back of the machine, as all the glass bottles shattered violently, getting soda all over the delicate and now partially exposed systems of the Ninja. But this was not the end--as the ancient cord on the machine frayed and electrical elements from the same vending machine touched the moist armor of the dented Ninja....

*BZZZTBZTTBZZBZZBTBZTBZTBZTB* Acrid, hideous smoke rose from the absurd sight, as the once mighty Ninja had now become a Cola-soaked bug zapper. The circuit on the nearby building broke just fast enough to prevent a total electrocution, but for someone made of metal as the Ninja, it would be excruciatingly painful. Basic functions would be damaged, sight wrecked, and joints and servos burned. For the Ninja, it felt like he had just been sent straight into the sun and struck on all sides by burning pitchforks. The tingling and burning slowly subsided as the angry Metal Man had himself a second, more successful drink of the Coca Cola.

For some reason, the soda tasted bitter to Metal Man; perhaps it was because of all the glass and metal and blood that he had tasted, or perhaps he just imagined it. Either way, the Man of Steel casually crushed a pathetic tan bench's wood supports just by sitting on it. Then he finished the bottle, chucking it into the festering, smoking mess of metal and glass the still twitching Ninja had been stuck in.

The surprised owner of the hotel had dropped his phone, along with his jaw. As the other people had surely fled by now, he was the only sane person around. And after that carnage, he had forgotten about the machine. That any man could do such damage with glass bottles and a vending machine... that was both so awesome and horrifying at the same time he had forgotten the emergency number half-way through dialing it He took some deep breaths and pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dead, then started again, glancing at the refreshing vista of green bushes, brown dirt, and blue skies to regain his calm. You're not dead, it's okay... ...but... but... but.

The Ninja himself was now angry and ashamed--this foolish non-supersoldier had harmed him with mere consumer goods. He burst out of the machine and stood at the ready with his sword--the only way to reclaim his honor now would be to gut this man and hang his head atop a flagpole! But... how? Perhaps... more impaling. After all, that wound he had made earlier was still bleeding everywhere.

The Man of Steel wiped his face off, sighed in a satisfied manner, and then put his helmet on, already feeling the little pinpricks of the sharp anti-safety glass grazing his inside-suit parts. He looked around and realized he had dropped his guns and shrugged to himself--the Ninja ignored the meaningless gesture, anyway.

The Ninja began to run towards the Metal Man. And what did the Metal Man do?

He lowered his head and charged the Ninja like a mad bull... ...and that accursed sunlight reflected off of the shiny Man of Steel and blinded the Ninja once again! Before the Ninja could react, Metal Man's battle-scarred helmet forehead slammed into his own forehead. *SLAM* ...The Ninja fell backwards, his own helmet now with a nice dent smacked into it.

Metal Man stood forth and cracked a disgusted frown, staring at the Ninja like he was a wounded cockroach. "Hmph. What are you going to do, run away again? Go ahead. WUSS."

The Red Tailed Hawk from earlier soared overhead as another breeze kicked up, blowing the nearby brush.

It was going to be another round of violence for the otherwise peaceful settlement, and the Hotel Warden hadn't even gotten a chance to drink yet!

OoC: Trickster, if you haven't played the later Mortal Kombat games, we're on falling platforms that will never actually hit a floor of any sort. There are also falling platforms all around. Feel free to send each other to different levels.

((I'll technically be a little late again. Just woke up and I have to go to work, which will put me past 48 hours. I'll post when I get off though.))

The Ninja was damaged beyond what he thought he would ever sustain. Though his exoskeleton, natural strength and abilities, fortified with his immensely strong will and desire for combat gave him the power to go on, and still pose a threat to damn near any mortal challenger, he knew that it was only a matter of time before somebody was going to die painfully. It could be himself, and by the pace of the battle so far and its style, it was probably going to happen soon.

The sticky, sparking, bleeding Ninja had been made into nothing but a mockery. He had obviously attacked his worthy adversary, landing strikes which would certainly kill or disable most any other creature, even those of steel. At least the man had exhausted himself with the last barrage, and of course the enemy been injured; the red fluids proved as much. So doubt did not rear its ugly head, and he wasn't afraid of oblivion, meaning the battle was far from over. He was ready to take back what was being taken from him; the victory of battle.

However, the Cyborg Ninja's right arm was completely crushed from the bulldozer man's tackle, being nothing but dead weight at this point. Victory can only be acquired by those willing to make sacrifices. Without a second thought, he sliced it off and threw it at his new rival. It was thrown with unyielding force at great speeds, almost like it were thrown with resentment, as if to make its final mark... but was smacked away, but was done so with an unsettling feeling. The Ninja became airborne after the projectile was launched, and poised a downward kick rocketing at Metal Man with his right leg...who then caught it and began swinging him around, gaining a sickly momentum. The Ninja kicked Metal Man's helmet off with his other leg, but was thrown at a speed that made a whizzing sound. Metal Man laughed heartily, and caught a thrown sword in his throat, the blade of which peeked out of the back of his head, dripping blood onto the hot ground, at which point laughing could no longer be heard.

The Cyborg Ninja had thrown it before smashing through the hotel. He was dazed, but still performed a backflip into a standing position. He hadn't sustained much damage from the counter, he was mostly just was banged up and anxious to get his sword. Still a little dazed, he started to run through the hole he involuntarily created, back to Metal Man, to retrieve his sword.

He charged down the hallway at his 'adversary'. A more proper term would be 'tresspasser', but the man had used a primitive sling to ward off Acradius' advance. While it was unclear what he intended to do with such a toy to a man in half plate armor, the projectile did find its target of the left knee. A swift boot from the right one sent Lawrence skidding across the floor and crumpling him into a heap at the end of the hallway. He almost felt sorry for the guy, who seemed to be no more of a threat than your average bum with an archaic weapon. Then again, Acradius did use a sword.

As Lawrence took off down the hallway on the Time Warrior's left, the blond man decided it was best to give pursuit until he had cleared the building. Continuing his 'angered guardian of vengance' routine, Acradius continued floating down the hallway. "GET OUT!! GET OUT!! LEAVE THIS PLACE AND NEVER RETURN!!" The doctorish person was booking it like it was Death himself on his tail. Ironically, Acradius would have laughed aloud if he knew the man's relationship with death.

Suddenly, Mr. Williams slipped on a pile of discarded papers, sending the entire contents of a spilled folder into the air, and catching some quite impressive hang time. Let it never be said that Acradius Journeyman never took an opportunity when he saw one. Acting on that honed combat instinct, he snapped his left leg forward for a brutal roundhouse kick to his opponent's airborne form.

"GHYYRRRRK!!" What the hell was that all about?! His opponent got away with only the fall to worry about as his left knee screamed in protest of his most recent action. Landing, the Time Warrior saw the cause of this turn of events. Something had gotten itself lodged in between his armor and his kneecap, on the outside. That leg would be pretty favored with a pinched nerve and a bruised tendon. He reached into the top part of his armor's greaves, and pulled out a small, conical object. "For your health? I doubt it, that freaking hurt!" He tossed it aside, his raged replaced now only with annoyance. The other man was already up and running.

Not today buddy. Acradius' eyes lit up once more, this time accompanied by a humming that was deeper than the planet's plates rubbing together. Lawrence let out a confused sort of sound when he felt his entire body picked up as though by a single, giant hand. In no time flat, he was turned upside down, his bag and all his trinkets in his lab coat's loose pockets clattering and clinking to the floor. Then, he was pressed against the Hospital's brick wall with the force that would make a tag-team of sumo wrestler and gravity seem like a walk in the park. Dust shook from the top of the wall at his impact, as Acradius limped in front of him. He got right down in the vertically inverted man's face, and said in the plainest, non-enhanced, most unamused voice he could: "Boo."

The Metal Man steamed slowly in the bright afternoon sun, his blood coming from all sorts of places... all over his body.

There was an inconvenient sword stuck in his mouth in particular. His right hand had been dented by that failed kick from the Ninja. Even the arm of the Ninja had flown off and gotten its icky goo all over Metal's nice suit. But would that deter the man who had slaughtered vampires, frustrated Saiyans and eaten nanotechnology swords?

No. In fact, Metal had become particularly fond of the taste of swords. Especially after that last fight. And here... was a sword stuck in his mouth. Metal glanced around. Despite the continually pooling blood on the floor, the man smiled. Then the Ninja came upon Metal Man, who still had the sword in his mouth. It was a ghoulish scene--a floor already sticky with soda and the Ninja's blood was now turning sickly shades of purple from Metal Man's freakish quasi-transparent blood. The smell of sugar and antifreeze wafted in the air, as the Ninja tensed. The merciless gaze of the sun only made it worse.

The Ninja stared at the eyes of the Metal Man, which had regained their pupils. But a chill ran down his spine. For behind those orbs of flesh, there seemed to be... a crazed serial killer. With his sword. The sword he had to have back! The Ninja reached for the sword in earnest. He did not care that this man had eagerly embraced pain and seemed to enjoy this hideous dance they were weaving together.

The sword moved back, and Metal Man (who it was still stuck in) waggled his finger. His eyes looked down to the sword, and then he smiled with the sword between his teeth. Then it became horrifying apparent to the Ninja that... the Metal Man's teeth were made of steel, too! Small chips in the Man of Steel's otherwise perfect teeth revealed shiny steel beneath their fake enamel surface. Metal made a playful jaw-movement and a piece of the sword fell off, as if it had been nicked.

The Ninja clenched his remaining fist in dismay. What? Why does that man have such sharp teeth? What purpose does any of this man's mismatched tactics have? I'll... ...just have to kill him before he--

The thoughtline was ripped in half as Metal Man grabbed the sword by the hilt and pulled it out of the back of his throat. For a brief second, the Ninja lunged for his beloved sword, but his one-handed grasp fell short. Then, the Man of Steel bit down hard on the blade--CRUNCH. About three inches of the sword's extreme end were severed from the blade. And to the Ninja's further horror, this length of sword was then crunched into shrapnel by the Mad Man's evil teeth.

The Ninja fiercely went to punch what was left of the sword away from Metal Man, but, the Man of Steel didn't falling for it! Metal moved the nice big hole in his right arm into the path of the Ninja's fist--*POP!* And with a sickening noise, the Ninja's fist became stuck in the sharp shrapnel of the jagged sword hole the same Ninja had made in Metal Man's right arm.

The sun shined on the Man of Steel's armor and body, as he looked down on the Ninja with a cocky smirk. The Ninja furiously reached for the sword--but alas, Metal Man presented that Ninja hand the blade of the sword. Then to add injury to injury... he spit out blood and metal fragments of the Ninja's sword right into its owner's face!

Red ichor slowly slid down the Gray Fox's damaged weapon and his face. As the Ninja moved to make a counter attack, Metal Man lifted his own right arm, which in turn pulled the old Cybernetic Ninja away from the sword. Metal Man then made another incredibly strong motion. In one short moment, the Ninja's once-strong body fell to the ground and clattered about like a thrown toy, before eventually stopping with a solid CLUNK at the wall of the now part-smashed tourist building. One-armed and battered, the Ninja went to get up, but the Metal Man mercilessly impaled the Ninja into the ground with the sword.

Needless to say, the hotel owner (who had snuck up on this scene in the background) was speechless. The police on the other end of his crackly connection were also perplexed--the sounds coming in suggested as if the fantastic stories they were hearing were true. But that was another story.

The Man of Steel towered over the pinned Ninja, yet he bled. He bled everywhere. Metal Man's caustic blood had gotten all over the Ninja, in fact. The antifreeze smell had become sickening, and the caustic nature of this mockery of blood burned the Cybernetic Ninja's flesh. But that was only the beginning. Metal Man picked up his helmet as his foe lay helpless. Then, as his foe slowly bled, he screwed the helmet back on slowly. Metal Man then cleared his throat.

"What you don't know, my foe, is that I have already taken apart over one hundred different people JUST LIKE YOU. You say you are special. You use your skills... but..." He shook his head, even though that wound in the back of his head still hurt like hell. Then he inhaled with a weird noise, as that hole in the back of his head served as a new air hole. Luckily enough, the metal implants surrounding Metal Man's spinal cord had saved it from damage, so the hole was more a nuisance than fatal. A... hideously painful nuisance, along with the other holes, bumps, and broken glass. Nevertheless, the speech continued. "Unlike you, I don't work for a glamorous organization. I don't have this suit to make myself super. I'm... stuck. STUCK. That's right." He stomped on the Ninja's remaining hand, which had moved to almost grab the sword. It made a sickening crunch. "Now just one moment, and I'll let you go." The Metal Man nodded sagely, then coughed horribly from the wounds he had taken. "I've been trapped running from time to time and place to place and... ...you're just getting in my way." He shook his head. The nearby hotel owner inched up to the duo as Metal Man went to finish his minisermon.

"So you see... I'm sorry that I have to do this. But if fate had wanted you to live... he wouldn't have had you meet me." The Metal Man's right hand moved towards something. But just the hotel warden appeared just a few feet behind Metal Man, a sudden loud PING! Occurred... ...and there was the Coachman, laughing direly.

The elderly gentleman, still in the Coachman clothes, pointed at Metal Man. His crooked crane nose pointed at the Metal Man as the crotchety sneer of bureacratic dignity dug into all who saw him. His wheezing political voice echoed on the plains. "Ha ha ha... how stirring. You're waxing poetic about your fate... but that will only cost you points in the end!" He walked over to the Ninja as raucous glee took over his craven visage. "And your foe is another person... who has displeased us." He laughed again, like a deranged meat puppet. "So... kill him! Kill him all you want... you'll only be benefitting us. No matter what you do, anyway... you cannot escape!"

The Warden froze like he had been slapped, then turned to the Coachman. The only thing freakier than these two men of steel had been this man in black--so he fired immediately at the Coachman! *BLAM!* But the Coachman merely laughed again, this time like a practical joker--the bullets bounced off his field. What little courage the poor, forlorn Hotel man had left vanished, and with it went the Hotel Owner, who had thoroughly lost it and run as far away as possible. Meanwhile, Metal Man nonchalantly hurled a match at the Ninja and shrugged as if the Coachman had said nothing at all. The Coachman turned, and Metal Man shook his head, giving a response while acting as if the Coachman meant nothing.

"So be it, but this man ticked me off on his own terms. He can be both my enemy and yours. Now get out of the way of my fight!"

The Coachman's smile dropped, as his face tightened and he became annoyed. His voice took a bothered, nasal twang. "Very well, very well..." But, determined to disturb Metal Man, the smile soon returned. "I guess I'll enjoy this, then!" He summoned a chair from nowhere and watched like a vulture, waiting for his meal to be killed for him. All the while staring nastily at Metal Man--as if he needed that driving down his morale all this time.

As the two men fiddled over nothing, the Ninja burst into flames from the match. Why? Metal Man's blood... was flammable. The hideous burning that had been merely chemical... had now gone to the next level. The Ninja would most likely screech in horror, as his acid-blood sensitized flesh was now SLOWLY MELTING.

The Metal Man watched mercilessly as the Ninja, using superhuman effort, ripped himself free of the ground. Although the sword was still stuck in him, and he was on fire, and his hand had been cut up, and chunks of his sword had been embedded in his face... ...he barely stood anyway.

Metal Man chuckled as he reached to his side. "You look awfully bad there, pilgrim. Perhaps you should quit while you're behind. But if you insist..." He shook his head, not believing the Ninja could do much against him in this state. "Do your worst. Ha ha ha ha ha..."

The fire burned on as the Man of Steel's hideous laugh pierced the empty wasteland once again. But... would that even remotely slow down the super-strong, super-tough Ninja? And all the while... Metal Man's GUI angrily flashed warnings about his low levels of blood... making it clear that soon, a winner would be apparent.

And the loser would be dead.

Will's back screamed bloody murder at him for the abuse it had suffered today. He'd taken three rather nasty hits to it already so he he no doubts that he wouldn't be running at his top speed, or even with as much stamina as he normally had. Just yet another reason for him to hate the reaper and it's inability to claim him.

That line of thought brought his attention back to the man who had him pinned the the wall, much the same way one would a poster. While he could tell that once again he was outclassed in combat that didn't scare him despite of the man's rather convincing efforts to make him flee the place. No what scared him was that he could tell that this one was what he called an outsider one who could travel through time with a fine degree of control. The reason he feared that power was because of the price of his unwanted immortality, the field of chaotic energy boned to him that had made his extended life very exciting yet very unpleasing. The last time he came into contact with one like this his field activated mid fight, the effect it wrought was to send him careening through time and space like a pinball. His whole body shuddered at the memory of this oddly enough this happened right affter his opponent had said “Boo.”

Deciding that he needed to take action lest of of the few things he feared happened again Will took action. One of his teeth had been knocked loose after his most recent encounter with the wall. Having considered this just as good of a distraction as any other he'd come up with will smashed his head against the wall again freeing the canine tooth, then he gathered some phlegm and spat the mixture into Acradius' face catching him in the eye by pure luck. Thus causing Acradius to momentary loose his grip, dropping will to the floor.

Taking advantage of this as best he could, Will grabbed a hand full of the scattered items on the floor, stuffed them into his bag and climbed to his feet. While the pain from his back was preventing him from running and the two hits to the head he just took made him dizzy and impaired his balance as well he was not quite out of options yet. He carefully made his way to the other wall and grabbed a large red fire-extinguisher from it's nook. Then with a mighty heave he tossed the large device at his foe.

However Will's luck had run out for the moment, as Acradius caught the fire-extinguisher inches before it would have impacted against his upper back. The Blond time traveler was clearly NOT amused with the man before him. Not only did this man invade his sanctuary and refuse to leave,he was also deliberately testing his patients with his rather odd style of combat. The most infuriating thing of all was that this odd unkempt drifter seemed capable of showing only two emotions one being fear witch he had seen twice and that had been brief glimpses at best, the other far more irritating one was the sheer apathy. It amazed him how someone could care so little about his own life, it was almost like the man was too tired to carry on yet incapable of doing anything BUT carry on. Putting those thoughts aside Acradius turned back to the task at hand. The removal of the intruder from his sanctuary.

DAMNIT IT'S VEN NOT VREN WHYYY DOES THIS HAPPEN

"!!" was all Ven could get out before being knocked through the weak cinder wall by the explosion. He fell on the ground, rolling, minimizing the injury. He wasn't affected by the flames of the explosion, but he knew his wickerwork bones had cracked and gave them a bit of time to repair themselves. after a few seconds, Ven heard the shots cease and saw multiple large holes in the wall. His skeleton sufficiently regenerated, he rushed back into the barn to find out who his challenger was.

Running like a green, orange and burlap brown blur, Ven headed straight towards the figure of his opponent and hit him right over the forehead with his crowbar. The challenger was knocked over by the assault, but quickly recomposed himself and started firing madly at Ven's running form. The scarecrow leaped from the ground to the hayloft to get out of his opponent's range, but the challenger's marksmanship was immaculate. Ven got hit right in the back with a slug. Swearing, Ven landed on the hayloft in a heap, thinking DAMMIT, there goes my movement abilities for a few minutes,.

Looking behind him, Ven saw a pair of incredible shades on a hardass face looking him right in the carven eyes. He did not seem fazed that he was speaking to a living scarecrow. "You mother****er, I'm gonna--" the character said before being interrupted by the hayloft crumbling under his bulk.

Ven looked down at him with a diminutive glare. "Wow. You don't know how this works." The Badass below responded "I'M DUKE THE **** NUKEM! I'LL KICK YOUR ASS IF IT'S GONNA BREAK THIS ENTIRE ****HOLE DOWN!" "BRING IT THE **** ON!" Ven responded, then flipped him off. Duke's teeth were clenched in anger as he raised his Desert Eagle. Before he could get off the first shot, a torrent of fire flowed down from Ven's outstretched palm right into his face. Ven smirked as the blazes shot down toward his opponent. Hoping Duke was hindered sufficiently, He relented and remembered the bullet in his back. With a bit of will, a small burst of flame out of the bullet hole shot it out. Ven squinted as it was dispelled. Grunting, he shambled up and looked down. Duke was not standing, but clearly alive. cackling slightly, Ven did an elegant leap to the other end of the barn and blazed towards Duke's prostrate form with his scythe, ready to reap.