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Yup, that's right, it's time for yet another VGA/MM battle! Again, this will be under standard Gunjin rules. Only this time, I'm using Takeshi Kishimoto. (Just FYI, he's the very first post on Page 17 of BoW.)

The Battlefield will be The Spire.


Again, you post first.

He felt a sense of Deja Vu, as he hurtled through the endless subway tunnel. The light flickered sinisterly across the million unwashed tiles of bland gray, as the harsh lights of the underground flickered across his visor. His eyes raked a glance across the interdimensional tunnel, as he scratched a line in the tiles with a single metallic finger. All he ahd to do was hold his hand out to the side, since he was flying so fast down the track--where a wheeled carriage of the type used by New Yorkers in the late 90's should have been.

Instead there was a massive man of steel, who felt like a seething mass of insects given a mind--he felt as if he was burning inside, a mass of hatred and madness which few could understand. His life was nothing but being flung from one fight to another, with a few absurd interludes so nasty he preferred being killed over and over again to encountering them. Vague promises and images of friends flickered in the back of his awareness as he heard a hideous screeching noise.

He looked to the line and saw he had found a path through the wall--a hollow place where another realm would be found. Someone had marked up this path, and the path to the side was coated with thick red paint. No... blood.

The Man screeched to a stop, incidentally disintegrating a yellowed newspaper while slowing down. He stopped and looked at the red blur--it was a red X with a long red line leading up to it. He had some of it on his finger. He moved to taste it, but then remembered... I can't take my helmet off here, then my head will decohere and I'll wind up on that planet with the invincible Saiyan again! Dammit... this blood looks so tasty though!

He shook his head and then punched the X with his fist--a resounding SMASH was heard as the tiles clattered to the ground, revealing a spastically fluctuating black void punctuated by an angular burst-shaped border around where his fist was. Metal Man snorted and then bashed the hole open further with his shoulder, then faced it, with both his hands on his hips.

"Well, this can't possibly be more boring than that time I killed the android man over the course of an entire year." He shook his head and stepped into the darkness.

But the darkness lit up, and... he was now inside a strange circular room, in some sort of spire. He recognized it... no. This was the place he had been before. He twitched, his head sort of moving an inch or two without warning, as his pupils dilated and he lifted his bloody right hand to his face, smearing a nasty pattern on his visor, as he smelled the mixture of dirt and rock and blood and hatred of these places people kept sending him to to fight them in he couldn't stop getting in ARRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!

He screamed loudly, shaking his fist at the torch, and then taking out his wrench. The brownish tarnished, bloodstained dented malevolent kill stick blazed violently in the dim torchlight. He held it with his right hand, swinging it around violently, as he smashed a football-shaped crater in the ground with his right foot, his silver-plated fakeflesh shimmering like boiling water in the liquid torchlight.

His creased face narrowed as he snarled towards the energy on the other side of the room.

"I'LL EAT YOUR SOUL AND SLAY YOUR PREDECESSORS AND RIP YOUR NAME OUT OF TIME ITSELF! SO COME AT ME YOU STUPID FOOL! THEN PERHAPS YOU'LL SEE WHY I HATE THIS PLAAAAAAAAARRGHHHHHHHH!!!"

He fell to one knee, clutching his forehead, as his heart beat mechanically out of control. Now was as good a time as any as his possibly frightened foe to strike--the man who had killed hundreds over the course of many millions of time trips was too busy having a nervous breakdown to notice.

OOC: Sorry this is so short, I promise the next one will be better.


Suddenly, a young teenager walked into the Spire. The teen looked to be about 16-17 years old, had messy blonde hair that went down to his shoulders, piercing eyes of cerulean, wore a yellow shirt, that was obscured slightly by a blue jacket that was currently unzipped, blue jeans, and white sneakers. This teen's name was Takeshi Kishimoto, and he was ready for a battle.



Takeshi heard the sound of someone sobbing, and he looked over to see his opponent, a rather tall man, about 6 or 7 feet tall, gently sobbing into his metallic hands. Yes, metallic hands, as Takeshi saw that this man's body was almost completely composed of a metal that the teen couldn't quite identify. Takeshi immediately realized who this man was, the notorious time-warper, Metal Man. The man who had taken down dragon kings, vampires, and most recently, a mentally unstable cartoon character. This was probably the perfect chance for the psychic teenager to deal the first blow, but Takeshi didn't even bother to try, because, to be perfectly honest, the sight of the metallic man in the midst of a nervous breakdown was freaking him the hell out.

OOC: Spent a moment thinking, now here I come!

After a few weird moments with the man speaking gibberish to himself and acting generally out of it, he stood up to face Takeshi and pointed at him. "You." He spoke the word like it was a hateful curse. "You have come to challenge me." He began coughing... gasping... no, that was laughter. "You!" He trembled, a vein appearing on his forehead as he clenched his teeth.

He took a step forward, cracking the ground. "YOUUUUUUU!!!!" His foe stood aback--whether or not he wanted to, the over-amplifed electronic scream pushed him back a little. The man chuckled again and smoothly slipped his silver soviet pistol into his right hand and pointed it, aiming with mechanical perfection via infrared lasers in his helmet and the iron sights on the pistol. In the time it took Takeshi to blink, he rapidly opened fire on Taskeshi, aiming between the eyes, firing all eight bullets as fast as his freakishly agile metal fingers could handle.

The gun's barrel caught a bit on fire and the trigger bent slightly as Metal Man laughed again, unsure of whether his foe had been killed by the rapid BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG he had summoned. He lowered the pistol and leaned forward through the cloud of smoke he had made, looking around expectantly for a corpse.

He held up his gun in an odd manner--bottom of the handle first. He lurked forward... He is probably not dead... he thought to himself. He will lunge out and think he has me... and I will play along... He began chuckling inanely again.

AND THEN I WILL KILL HIM! AH AHAH HAHAHAHAHA! He clutched his helmet again, having been driven nearly mad by his past experiences. The lights of the room reflected menacingly off of the man's bloodstained and dented armor, as the smell of a fired gun, metal lubricant, and the sweat of a madman filled the room like an oppressive invader...