NLBFT 13: The Second Round

[Repster]

Remember kids, drugs are bad. Unless your Duke nukem. Then drugs are gooooooood.

Ven failed to realize just what a bad idea that was. He made the classic mistake that most did. They see a hulking muscle bound man hauling around an assortment of oversized guns, and they thought that was all to him. After all there were dozens of those around, what was another one.

Duke showed Vren just how wrong that train of thought was. He opened a non descript pharmaceutical bottle labeled with a single word, Steroids, popped a handful. His vision started to blur as the raw enhancement to his reaction time and speed kicked in.
"I'm not gonna fight you, I'm gonna kick your ass." he said, pouncing with the speed and ferocity of a cheetah.

Ven, scythe reeled back for a killing blow, had little time to realized what was going on as everything went black. Black with the bottom of Duke's right boot connecting straight between his eyes. The mighty foot continued to pump into the straw man's face as the left joined it, and Duke's jet pack activated. The surprising power of the jet pack made sure Ven did not slip off the aggressive blond. It also slammed them both into the wall. The wood splintering as the impact threw Ven aside and Duke landed, and he ran. The Steroids, and the countless other performance enhancing drugs that were laced in them, still pumping threw his body, Duke made it next to Ven in the time it took him to get up.

Which was right were Duke wanted him. Duke, having pulled his shotgun during his sprint, shoved it in Ven's gut.
"Yippy kai yay mother****er."
*boom*
Buckshot tore threw what passed for Ven's flesh as he was knocked back by Duke's boot smashing into his ribs again. Afterall, with a jetpack to balance him perfectly at any moment, he just had to kick things as well as shoot them when they were close.

The all to common sound of the pump action filled the air as the drugs cleared themselves from Duke's system.
*Ka-chack*
Duke leveled the shotgun with Ven's head.
*boom*

[Trickster-kun]

[(I haven't played the latest MK games, but I'll base myself on your description to respond accordingly... :) )]
---------

Before the arena had broken... he was smoking. An acquired habit. Slow intakes of smoke in preparation for the upcoming battle.

He had flicked the little cigarette butt away, and not even three seconds after his opponent showed up, the signal to start the battle was already being given. 'Whoever organized this tournament must've been a pretty damn impatient being...' he had thought at this. He wore a dark green vest, made of some kind of metal material, finely crafted with swirls and twists covering his whole torso. His black pocketed pants were thick and wide, coupled with hard black leather boots and an equally black belt holding it together. He was a middle-aged man, most likely in his middle 30's, with short brown hair and small brown eyes hidden behind a pair of squared glasses. Flexing his hands and joints at the sight of the yellow-coated figure, he could not help but grin a little bit. Just a little bit, expectantly, almost as if he was looking forward to it. The last battle hadn't been exactly a pushover, though-- his left, bare forearm still ached from the opponent's fireball, a slightly scorched bit of skin restoring itself to its previous state within many, small sparks of electric energy: crackle, crackle, crackle. He was certain that this ninja lookalike could've figured out a fraction of his powers by now, but that didn't exactly matter to him. He was just getting ready.

Yes, Arkimeth Seizen was just getting ready for the battle. What he wasn't getting ready for was the massive breakout of the floor and the indefinite falling that followed.

Ark's instincts held the battlemage afloat as the floor crumbled-- double whirlwinds originated at his feet, which coupled with the sparks on his arm, gave proof to his dual mastery of the wind and lightning elements. He didn't chant spells, or did weird hand motions, or even really moved in response to the crumble-- his spell set up in motion automatically, with just the normal downward jerk that comes from being suspended as the floor below you crumbles-- kind of like when criminals in the medieval times were hung. However, he felt a strong jerk not even a second after the crumble: a crude, snap-like hammering on his shoulders that forced him to fall into the many platforms. Of course he would be startled-- who wouldn't be? His powers had just been overridden by an unknown force, probably the same one who organized the tournament. He had all reason to be suspicious now, and to perhaps start taking this a little more seriously.

No matter, he thought. 'I was sent here for a reason, and to achieve that, I need to win this. Let's get to it, Katzbalger.' Now the opponent was within sight, lost behind the shifting panels, and yelling something over the howling of the wind and the banging of stone all around them. From within the battlemage's head, a voice spoke in his mind, a metallic, female ring: 'Are you already getting overconfident, Arkimeth? Don't. The battle hasn't even started.'
-'I know that. We've been together for many years, and yet you remind me every- single- time.' he mentally replied in the flash of a thought. 'Now prepare for battle-- here he comes!'

A snap of Ark's fingers was all it took to bring his weapons forth: a clean burst of white lightning burst into life at his arms and legs, granting him a platinum set of gauntlets and greaves. Shiny and sturdy, their craftsmanship was divine in origin, yet ordinary in appearance: carvings of thunder and lightning bolts littered their surface, complete with a somewhat faded image of the Uroboros, or the symbol of a snake biting its own tail in a full circle. The word Katzbalger was prominent in cursive lettering on the edge of every piece: the gauntlets reached all the way to the elbows, and the greaves likewise reached all the way to the knees, complete with a small orb over them to ease knee thrusts and the like.

His armament came to life in a flash, but a flash was all it was taking Scorpion's harpoon to reach his position across the collapsing platforms! *CLANG!* he deflected the projectile with his left hand, discarding his glasses with his right into the raging wind. He locked eyes with his opponent: brown with white, flesh with mask. Arkimeth trembled with excitement, and he grinned. A demonic, almost mouth-breaking grin of pearly teeth struggling to break free from their prison showed through, and an instant after, a burst of wind. The displacement of platforms between them. Then the high sweeping kick by Arkimeth toward his yellow-clad enemy. *THWACK!* The ninja blocked the blow easily, which Ark used the recoil of the block to thrust his left leg and throw another high sweeping kick. *BAM!* Scorpion, ill-prepared for the second strike, blocked inappropriately, causing him to get propelled to the next platform over, recovering quickly. However--!

*SLASH! SLASH! WHAM!* Double blades of hard wind broke out of the battlemage's hand in a flicker of his wrist, severing the platform and missing Scorpion's sides out of the sheer instability of the surface.

Arkimeth never stopped grinning. He was, after all, the Platinum Trickster.

[Vapor]

"Holy SH*T, you really like overdoing it," Ven remarked to the man leaning above him right before he pulled the trigger. Duke brushed this off and shot--but he DIDN'T anticipate the explosion. Nope, not the explosion. At the moment the bullet left the barrel, it seemed that Ven's face simply burst into flame, sending Duke flying back. after Ven was free to stand again, smoke was coming from his mouth and eyeholes from all the flames he had just shot out of them. "...****." Ven muttered, examining the holes in his clothing and body. He repeated his earlier process and expelled all of the bullets, which seriously smarted. When he looked up, Ven saw the Macho going for a flying kick. Ven, in one smooth motion, ducked and grabbed his pitchfork from his leather strip of a belt and shoved it deep within Duke's leg as he flew by. Pulling it out, he thought, He won't be able to ignore something like that, right? right? Well, THIS douchebag probably will, but I hope not.

Clutching his lower leg flowing with blood, Duke held up a shotgun, pointed it at Ven, and said "Do you feel lucky, punk? Do ya? DO YA?!?"

Ven's scythe glowed a slight aura of dull green. He knew he would fail in hand-to-hand combat, but he had other Advantages.

"Yes, I do. I do. I feel very, very lucky indeed." Ven replied without changing his deadpan expression in the slightest. Duke pulled the trigger, but instead of hitting Ven, the bullet went into a tree. A tree had appeared right in front of him. Before anything made sense to Duke, he was brought to the ground by dozens of vines reaching out and enveloping him. Of course, the strongman ripped the vines away from him with a bit of effort. Then came the thorns-- Agonizing prickers ripping across Duke's body, tearing at his clothes and skin, leaving incredible gashes and cuts all around. He had found his machete by now and was doing his best to cut himself away, and soon escaped. Well, either that or the plants had stopped coming. Not much composure lost, Duke looked around while covering his face and limbs in Bactine. He barely heard Ven's fabric rustle in the wind when the scarecrow leaped down from the top of the tree and dug his pitchfork's three prongs into his back.

"HOW DO YOU LIKE GETTING ****ED BY STEEL?!?!" Ven screamed ind Duke's face. He followed this up with vomiting a cascade of scorching fire into Duke's face, hoping that he would stop being so fireproof.

[Repster]

The one man strategic strike force against alien invasions did not oblige. The hum of Duke's jet pack lowest setting keeping him on balance went unnoticed in the sound of the inferno that came from Ven's mouth. The sound of Nukem dropping hit shotgun and bringing out the chain gun went unnoticed as well. Bleeding, torn ligaments and muscles, and secound degree burns barely phased Duke. This mutant freak however was messing with his shades. That was unacceptable.

As the first bullet entered Ven, he did not think much of it. He had taken far worse already. Then the second hit, then third, forth, fithsixthseventh... He leapt away, and Duke rotated to follow. Why? Quite simply if Ven had staid a moment more he would have been cut in half as the the triple barreled automatic weapon spewed out a hailstorm of ammunition at him. In a matter of seconds the ground at Duke's feet was littered with spent cartridge casings. He tossed the now empty weapon aside.

Reaching back he yanked out a bag. A bag were he kept most of his considerable amount of pipe His jet pack flared and he sped towards Ven, and up. Arriving above the scarecrow he spun, overturning the bag and filling the area with the small, but powerful explosives. A nice neat, quick to manufacture minefield. Duke dropped, foot forward as he brought out his trusty heavily modified Desert Eagle. He squeezed the trigger, and let his weight drop him on Ven. There was an Italian plumber that had made a life of jumping on peoples head, Duke enjoyed spicy it up with a rain of gunfire at the same time.

Ven was in trouble. If he ran, he ran into explosives. If he did not run, bullets and duke's mighty foot were coming down hard.

[I REALLY HATE POKEMON!]

Unlike you, I don't work for a glamorous organization...

The Ninja was no longer recognizable. This was due to the simple concept of cause and effect. The cause was a vioent and painful wave, an onslught of destruction directed soley at the Cyborg Ninja. Standing was just about all that either one of them thought that he could. But as the Man of Steel's words rang in his pain-engulfed mind, the very same mind which would like nothing more than to shut down, his thoughts revolved around what honor he had left.

Unlike you, I don't work for a glamorous organization...

It was a passing statement, something most wouldn't even have caught onto during such a slaughter of oneself. But it was a sore spot for the warrior. He stepped forward, reaching his fist into the air and spoke to no one. I am not a tool of anyone... A rasped whisper cloaking hidden rage and strength leftover, something he would unleash all of upon his foe who dared to reveal cockiness.

The Ninja burst into a dash toward his foe, stumbling, but not losing any speed nor direction. The enemy performed a kick that seemed to hold enough strength to finish the match and reveal a loser, but the Ninja ducked under and delivered a solid uppercut, making a sickening metallic crunch, sending even a few of those strange teeth flying in a couple direction, lifting the creature off of the ground a bit. The Ninja was preparing a combination of attacks, it was obvious. Metal Man grabbed the foe, ignoring his now slack jaw. He was crushing his ribs, but Ninja's arm was free. He created a knife-like shape with his hands and sent it deep into the neck of the one crushing him, though the grip only intensified, annihilating whatever ribs weren't already done in and likely causing some internal damage to some organs.

The Ninja delivered fierce knees, freeing himself and stumbling the foe backward. The Ninja performed a roundhouse kick to the slack jaw of Metal Man, sending him zooming off, bouncing across the ground and landing face first into some rough ground. The Cyborg Ninja prepared another attack as he was chasing his enemy, but collapsed to both knees, and bled from his mouth, as if a faucet had been turned on. His enemy had not yet rose, so he decided to give himself a well deserved rest as his melted-looking body glistened in the sun...

[Metal Man]

The air was filled with colorful flashes of light as the sun reflected off of the flying metal teeth and suit fragments. With his knife-like stab, the Ninja gouged a deep canyon into the Man of Steel's helmet screw-on mechanism, jamming it onto his head for the time being. The knees, naturally, knocked Metal Man backwards, and he was knocked further back by the kick to his loosened jaw.

The man landed a few feet away, his right hand palm-down on the ground and helping to keep him upright. He was crouched over as he ground his servos and stood up again. His foe had not realized it, but in his attack on the Man of Steel's teeth, he had also shattered Metal Man's visor. No big deal for Metal Man--he replaced the visor on his helmet, although his shiny teeth were another story. Replacing them was not an option--he had no capability to heal damage.

His gaze wandered over to the fountain of blood nearby--the Ninja, spoiling the pristine orange-brown soil of the valley with his impure blood. With the mesas reflecting in his powder blue visor, Metal Man advanced on his holey foe. His voice rang out like an over-amplified song, the high end of his words crackling in an uncomfortable way. It was hard to tell whether this was intentional or not.

"Try as hard as you might, Ninja, but your efforts are in vain. We are all part of this mortal chain, and we all have to die. Only... your backers, your allies, whomever did this cybernetic work on you... did not know what they were doing." That should tick him off. Good, I need him that way. Less likely to see what I have next. Metal Man stopped at nothing in fighting--even words which would enrage his foe were in the books.

As the silhouette of a Red Tailed Hawk flew by, Metal Man pumped his fist. Even though he looked like hell, the new visor made him look vaguely cool. His solemn look was followed by him snapping his fingers and dropping down into an odd pose--left hand facing the ground in a clenched fist, and right hand in the air behind him, open. His head was pitched forward, staring at the Ninja as lubricant and blood still leaked.

The Coachman laughed. "Hahahaha. What are you going to do? Pose until he dies? I've always liked haunting you, Metal Man--you may, annoyingly, refuse to die, but you never fail to look stupid while doing it." He shifted his seat to the left side of the melee. Metal Man snorted, but otherwise gave the Coachman no heed.

Instead, he picked up a slowly smoldering piece of debris with his right hand... it lit afire, revealing how the Metal Man's own blood had soaked his hand. He then passed it to his left hand, and hurled the fragment away. Ancient music began to play through his half-broken voice projector, as he straightened up and began to sway to a strange Disco beat.

He pointed at the Ninja's bleeding, burnt body and began to sing in a hideously off-key fashion. "Ooooh...." He flicked his right hand--a fireball flew forth from it. The ghoulish, blood-splatter fueled fireball smacked the Ninja right in the head, knocking his head back enough for him to see the vile Disco Cyborg facing him. "Burn, baby burn!"

...This was too much for the Ninja. He had been humiliated, burned, and his ribs had apparently magically busted from some squeezes of Metal Man's (entirely by accident, since Metal Man considered such behavior a 'dirty attack' not of his type) but now he was about to be destroyed to the tune of horrible Disco music. He had had enough--he got up and began to run, as Metal Man chased him, the doppler effect only increasing the hideous cacophony of Disco evil.

"Burn baby burn!" Metal chucked another fireball--the Ninja ducked.

"Burn baby burn!" Metal got serious and hurled a stream of fire now--it burned the Ninja's shoulder, and kept burning, like hideous napalm.

"Burn baby burn!" The Ninja leaped to safety as an even larger explosion occurred behind him. Bits and pieces of exploded mesa rock and parking lot concrete nicked him in the back, as the Metal Man chased him into the parking lot. The ludicrous scene only got more ridiculous as it neared the major verses of the out-of-tune song...

"BURRRRRRNIIIIIIIIN'!" All the Ninja saw was a flying, flaming Coca Cola bottle, filled with the same horrible red liquid Metal Man must have been half-made of. The flash of heat and pain after that would most likely be remembered for quite a while, as the Ninja was immolated in flame and hurled into a parked SUV's windshield. The Metal Man cranked up the volume and became even worse--as the sound increased, so did the sounds of other cars resonating with the frequency Metal Man was screeching at. Even the otherwise untouchable Coachman plugged his indestructible ears!

"To maaaaaaaaaass firrrrrreeeees, YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! One HUNDREEED THOUSAND STORIES HIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHH!" Uh-oh.

The Metal Man gave a swift kick to a towncar next to him, and the force hurled a big chunk of it, gas tank included, onto the Ninja's lap. Metal Man smirked like the devil as he used the last of his 'reserve blood' to power the hideous attack--and the Ninja could only look on, as he had been pinned to the car by the sudden gas tank collision.

"People gEEEetTTTTtInG loOOOOOse EVEEERYBOOODAH GEEETttiNG dOOoOOOoOOOwn on theeee ROOOOOF! ...Do you hear?"

A loud hissing noise was made as Metal Man wound up for what looked like a major leage baseball pitch.

"Some FoOOOooolks wereEeeeee... SCREAAAAAMING OUT OF COOONTROOOOOL!!!"

True to his word, some hapless tourists in the distance screamed in fear as they saw the smoke and destruction. The Coachman did no such thing, instead wordlessly laughing at the absurdity. Metal Man shot him a glare and then the big moment came down, as the Ninja ripped himself free of the gas tank... only to see an impressive orb of fire fly forth from Metal Man's hands.

Metal Man almost whispered the next lines, voice trembling with hideous glee.

"It waaas so entertaining... ... ...when the Ninja started to EXPLOOOOOOODEEEEE!"

The Ninja was knocked over at the last moment by that line, and with that, the fireball hit the gas tank, the car, and the Ninja all at once. Three more explosions occurred in rapid succession, and with a great plume of smoke and metal shrapnel, the area around the impact sight was reduced to a crater.

The Ninja landed nearby, on fire again and now smashed into the top of a car. Embedded in his forehead were the words "Ford Explorer." Metal Man laughed mercilessly as the parts rained from the sky, some of them even denting him. He even had some shrapnel embedded in him from being too close--but as he shook the fire out of his hands and turned around, it was clear--if he was going to die from blood loss, he would die laughing!

The Man of Steel advanced once again at the heavily abused Ninja, stumbling slightly and wobbling from the loss of blood. His hole-filled form would probably become the object of the Ninja's nightmares now--memories of being exploded and set on fire setting the pace. But what of the Ninja? To Metal Man, it was already over. He had no clue of the Ninja's inner strength, but, to him, it seemed to be a foregone conclusion--unless the Ninja changed his tactice, he would wind up on fire and embedded in the walls of the tourist trap.

Somewhere far away, the warden sobbed his horror and worry away, knowing all those explosions would wreck his once great business.

Or would it?

[LOOT]

Scorpion merely laughed at this strange man's attempts to cause damage to him. "Insolent cur, you have reserved your spot here in Hell!" Scorpion announced, his coarse voice echoing the chambers. Pulling himself together, Scorpion launched another spear, this time at the bottom of the platform Arkimeth stood on. The blade latched, and Scorpion propelled himself using the rope attached to his weapon. Arkimeth felt the ground underneath him shake slightly and peered over the edge. Perhaps by a stroke of luck, he parried a rather vicious uppercut delivered by the yellow-clad ninja, following up with a quick dodge to the left as Scorpion brought down his ninjatō.

"Perhaps if you left the platform beneat me be, you would have gained an advantage," Scorpion proceeded to taunt. "You underestimate my abilities. I told you, this is my home turf. Do not think for a second you will have an easy-" Scorpion was suddenly interrupted as Arkimeth launched his own uppercut against the ninja. Such a powerful punch, it almost felt like... he did not even connect.

In that instance, Scorpion felt a cold chill sent down his spine. A feeling he felt when he fought Sub-Zero, when he slayed him in an ice coffin... When he was separated from his clan and family. This freeze was then overpowered by burning rage. He would not be insulted by a face he had not seen before! To hell with the rules of Mortal Kombat, this man's life was his and he would chain his very soul to the bowels of hell if he had to!

Arkimeth suddenly realized what had happened. He had fallen for the oldest ninja trick in the book: the afterimage. He twisted his body in time to see that, indeed, the yellow ninja had reappeared directly behind him. Arkimeth prepared for a headshot. He thought wrong as Scorpion slammed into his gut with a thrust punch that had left a firey trail behind the ninja. As if the attack to the solar plexus wasn't enough, Scorpion had also toppled Arkimeth over the platform. While the original platform had slown down to approximetally an eighth of terminal velocity, it certainly didn't stop the two humanoids from falling at regular speed.

OoC: Two points. One, apologies for getting this out late, my birthday ended up taking up most of my day. Two, what race is Arkimeth?

[I REALLY HATE POKEMON!]

Although the Cyborg Ninja was far from what one may consider a complete genius, he did know that often fire and gasoline were regarded as a 'bad combination'. So as he was somehow knocked down by the latest line of the horrid song, it was in that last moment that he was knocked down that he had attempted a rebounding flip to get away from the soon-to-be wreckage. It did not help all that much seeing as he didn't even quite complete the entire maneuver away from the site, as he was caught mid-flip, but the fact that he was conscience now may have been due to his lightning reflexes granting him some distance from the explosion.

He was just lying there with his other arm blown off, in an even more horrible-looking fashion than the other done-in by himself, with his ears ringing and bleeding, unable to hear anything. So much damage had been done, internally and externally, from burns and cuts, to broken bones and dismemberment. He lifted his head, displaying the words "Ford Explorer", backward. Cyborg Ninja was no longer masked, apparently the explosion had even tore that plating off of his face. His left eye was destroyed in some stomach-wrenchingly grotesque manner, perhaps melted or blown out, and blood was all around the eye socket. He glared up at the obviously laughing man, though he couldn't hear it. He gave a fierce look, something akin to a cornered fox. He surely didn't appear dangerous; on the contrary in fact, he probably looked like something out of a horror movie, and not the monster, but more like the victim. Excellent. Nothing like a last chance to make a surprise comeback due to somebody else's ignorance.

As they were only wasting time, with one wobbling and laughing as if he'd had one too many drinks, and the other staring and gritting his teeth, preparing to embrace his, hopefully this time, eternal rest through combat, anyone watching was waiting to see its climactic finish.

The laughter stopped abruptly as the Ninja shifted his weight, going into a rapid spin on his back, almost looking as if he were trying to break dance. He was spinning quickly trying to kick his opponent. Metal Man only stumbled backward, avoiding the attack. He reached out and grabbed the top-like man's legs, one with each hand, ceasing the attack and lifting him off of the ground. He then began one of his own attacks, which included attempting to split the man by tearing his legs apart in opposite directions. What fun.

This plan didn't last long however, as the Ninja prepared himself for more of his trademark self-mutilation.

The Ninja flung himself up while being held by the enemy, and headbutted the man's face. He didn't care whether or not the enemy had a helmet, and it didn't matter that his own face plating was gone. He was working with what he had, and just slammed his head into his intended target. Each strike hit with awesome velocity. His opponent did not let go but stumbled back yet again, yet ceasing his own attack. He found himself being pounded with a volley of such headbutts until he fell had no choice but to finally let go.

More than just Metal Man's cool new visor was damaged, signaled by the painful grunts and dripping fluids, followed by a dizzying fall on his ass. The Ninja had been dropped by the huge man, and he was now on his knees when the giant fell. He had stood by time the other guy had even shook his head and quickly delivered a jumping drop kick with his feet to Metal Man's entire face, letting loose a scream as he performed.

Ninja couldn't stand now after dumping literally everything into the last attacks. His face which was, up until his brilliant headbutts, was the only thing virtually unscathed apart from his left eye, which was now the most ghastly sight of all his wounds. With no teeth to speak of, a nose torn to shreds, and a new concave appearance, adorned by a complete black and blue look, covered in blood, he had truly paid the price for his vicious assault. Landing on his wounded body after the drop kick had left him with no breath. He threw himself into a sitting position as his fading consciousness came doubled with a slowing heartbeat, and complimentary heavy eyes. He kept a grin as he tried to catch his breath and thought that perhaps, if he were lucky enough that his enemy was out cold for long enough, he could gather the strength to make his way to the body in order to finish it. Surely the enemy couldn't rise immediately after such an assault Assuming the worst however, he prepared himself for a fight for his life while trapped on the ground, which would likely end soon anyway despite a possible victory...

[Metal Man]

The violent bashing had thrown a hideous amount of damage into an already cracked, battered and hole-filled helmet. It took too much--it fell apart. The Metal Man's raw visage was free from its cage.

It stared with the intensity of a thousand suns at the Ninja's corpse. The expression of the wrinkled, bruised, bloody face was that of a hellish demon's rage. With pursed, cracked lips showing just a crack of his damaged, metallic teeth, the man lurched forward the Ninja slowly. His fists trembled with pain and fury; his forehead veins bulged. And all he had in mind was a single furious thought:

It's time for this armless trash can to die!

The sun above went behind a single cloud, darkening the vibrant landscape. Each step crushed the soggy dirt more, as parts of the Metal Man's armor fell off. All that beating had taken a toll--half-revealing the twisted figure that lurked behind the shiny plating. Muscles linked to servos; metallic limbs soldered onto flesh; it was a walking mockery of life itself. Frankenstein had nothing on this, and Darth Vader himself would cringe at how much the Metal Man had lost. While he breathed without his helmet... it seemed like he had traded his soul for another love.... destruction.

As the quivering, clanking, steaming, rotten abomination closed the gap, the Ninja's grin died. Metal Man raised his right hand--the lack of plating revealed it to be made of metal sections and joints, animated by dexterous and durable mini-servos--and closed his mouth even further. He stood, a foot away, at the Ninja, and stared.

There it was--the hole in the back of his head, the slash in his neck. The countless stab wounds--his right arm with its massive hole. The top of his head with its big slice. He stared and breathed with a hideous wet clanking noise as if to suggest... that the Ninja had chosen a fate worse than death with his last action.

If only it was that simple.

The Coachman watched in pitched interest, leaning atop an invisible desk. As police cruisers began to drive in from the distance, Metal Man knew this fight was soon over. But... he was not done yet. His voice rumbled slowly into hearing--no longer made awesome by the vocoder in his helmet, it sounded more like a demonic cripple's hateful cries. "You destroyed my helmet... NO ONE DESTROYS MY HELMET... NO ONE WHO DOES THAT MAY LIIIIIVE!!!!"

The pathetic voice rose in volume until it resonated the Ninja's chest. The Metal Man clutched his right hand into an ugly gnarled claw. There he stood for another moment, as the faded sunlight dimly reflected off what remained of his savaged suit. The taste of copper and antifreeze was everywhere, along with smells which suggested even worse things... rotting flesh, for one.

A cold wind blew as the Metal Madman's eyes began to resemble irisless orbs. His claw surged forth and pierced the Ninja's neck with its sharp points... grasping him in a hideous vice. As the Ninja's breath was throttled, the Mad Metal Demon lifted him up into the air and stared directly into the Ninja's eyes.

A million hideous memories of the Metal Man were suddenly known by the Ninja--the Ninja's already struggling breath speeding as horror and disgust filled his body. Whatever his full reaction may be, it didn't matter--the sheer number of things... would surprise all but the most unholy or mentally strong of fighters.

The Man of Steel unflinchingly grabbed the Ninja with his left hand as well, as the glare of hatred transformed into that of madness. The sun briefly peeked behind the cloud, reflecting in the man's shattered teeth.

That moment would forever be imprinted in this Ninja's mind...

The Man of Steel went at it like no one other; he lifted up suddenly, whipping the Ninja's near-limbless body up by the neck, then moved his hands down again, smashing the Ninja's body mercilessly into the ground. Then he began spinning as the Ninja was stuck on the ground... grinding the hideous rock and dirt and sticks into the Ninja. As he picked up speed, he then lifted the Ninja up again. Like a gruesome parody of Mario, he spun around two full turns and let go--throwing the Ninja in an arc such that he crashed THROUGH another nameless green SUV.

But this was not over--the Metal Man ran after him, and sure enough, the Ninja flew into a second car and bounced back towards Metal Man. The Man of Steel put both his hands in a Volleyball-stance, and then swung with all his might. A sickening SMAAAASH noise was followed, as the Ninja flew OVER the car and into the wild blue yonder, before then landing just short of the visitor's center and spinning through some railings. It sounded much like a refrigerator falling down hundreds of stairs.

As the hideous clanking stopped, the Metal Man solemnly took out his ultimate weapon--the Elephant Shotgun. He pointed the dark gray implement of terror at the Ninja, who was now in a heap at the base of the building. Surely, the Ninja would prefer death to what would be potentially a lifetime of suffering caused by these injuries.

The Metal Man's hateful eyes stared into the injured body. Yes... you have paid for attacking me so brazenly. All who do so.. .they end up like you. His thoughts could almost be read from that cocky, self-sure glance he gave. But there was more.

The Ninja stood up, despite the hideous beating, ready to accept his fate. Or, perhaps, do a last minute retaliation. Metal Man merely cocked the shotgun and put his hand over the trigger, shaking his head. "You're not going to get me this time. My real face is nothing for you to hit."

The Red-tailed hawk screamed again. It had found prey nearby. In a similar move, the Coachman walked over, looking on expectantly. He had seen this too many times by now--he believed that, perhaps, the Metal Man could be cracked, like any ordinary walnut. Indeed... he had seen that steel face too much. Perhaps he would finally lose it this time--it had been a long and thankless job to keep following him, after all!

But as he waited for the end... the Metal Man lowered his gun, chuckling. "There shall be no death for you, Silver Ninja. Your unending torment at the hands of whomever was stupid enough to make you a cyborg is good enough for me."

The Metal Man turned around and put the gun on his shoulder, merrily whistling as car sirens came in and the Coachman threw his fists at his sides in anger. Damn it! He didn't kill him! Why... why?! I knew that old buzzard would inspire pity in his foes, but why did he have to also give pity to them? I'll... I'll have to take care of him some other way... The Coachman saw the policeman and left. Metal Man could be seen entering a portal of his own.

And like that, the Ninja was left alone, armless and friendless, with curious police officers staring at the wreck in confusion. Neither the large Man of Steel nor the insane Coachman were left... making this bizarre day one which might never be solved.

As to the Ninja's fate? ...Who knows?

[Trickster-kun]

[(Point one, happy birthday~ As for point two, Ark is technically of the human race-- I say technically because he is already 'something else', as I will demonstrate...)]
-----

Arkimeth was shocked, to say the least, when the masked opponent pulled off his little side-swapping thing, but really, how many times had he not seen this happen to him? Having fought against countless divine avatars such as himself during the long years of his journeys through the multiverse, Ark cursed to himself that he had let himself fall for the same trick again-- every single time, struck at least once by enemies that were able to do the same feat, usually at the beginning of every battle. He would not fall for the same trick again.

-"Ugh!" the battlemage grunted audibly as he was struck and propelled away from the platform by the explosive blow, quickly stabilizing himself by flipping around until he landed into another platform, sights locked in his enemy quickly. His divine armor worked quickly: as he shared a symbiotic type of relationship with it, the entity had a secondary control over Arkimeth's nervous system-- she could send electric jolts at her leisure to force Ark's body to move well beyond the limits of the best trained human, thus, as the solar plexus was damaged by the yellow ninja, the armor fixed up the damage rather quickly. Nothing could be done about the pain, but the adrenaline was starting to effect the Platinum Trickster with the speed of a bullet, thus the pain was nearly not as intense as it would've been any other time. He was truly excited about this battle.

-"Oi oi! Don't be sour, my friend!" he exclaimed a bit too cheerfully across the platforms, where Scorpion alreaddy moved forward to strike quickly. "There's no need to rush-- Hell will always be here for us!" *BAM BLAM!* Arkimeth quickly parried two of the yellow demon's powerful fists, opening him up for a vicious counterattack to the face... but he was gone! Again! *WHAM!* The battlemage felt his left cheek cripple as he realized that, once again, he had been played into an attack by the ninja's technique, this time standing on the receiving end of a mighty sweeping kick by part of the masked opponent. However, the second time didn't go as well as the first one: though he was momentarily disoriented, the Platinum Trickster's armor responded quickly to the attack, using the 'motion' of how he was forced to move by the kick, to effectively reach the kick after it had connected and grab it with his right hand, following with his left, and dragging the ninja's body into the bottom of the falling platform with great force. *KA-BLAM!* The platform cracked and gave away into even more free falling fragments, and both combatants recovered post haste: Ark by settling his feet upward below a fragment, and Scorpion latching up to another fragment to propel himself upward and back to Ark.

The following exchange was blazing fast, neither hit holding a lot of particular power, but still hard enough to be devastating to any normal human. Blow after blow, punch after agonizing punch, kick after staggering kick, both players grew one step closer to the end of the bout: grunts, sweat, blood, even a piece of nondescript meat or two flew far from the combatants, lost in a deadly dance of death amidst the falling platforms. *BAM BAM BAM WHAM BAM BLAM WHAM WHAM BLAM BAM BAM WHAM!* Platinum gauntlets and greaves struck on the powerful ninja's torso and extremities as the demon delivered each favor in kind, with his sharp harpoon slashing and gashing deep into the battlemage's exposed skin and face. Neither entity wished to admit defeat. One had a strong reason to win. The other was now doing it for the pure sake of the fighting. However, the motivation for battle was not a factor that either of the fighters gave much thought about as their exchange raged on: no, it was no longer about the victory or the defeat. For Arkimeth Seizen, now it was a matter of superiority.

*BA-WHAM!* Beaten, pounded and bloody, Ark now moved and acted mostly on three factors: his sentient armor's control, his manipulation of the falling wind to control his speed and movement, and his own instinct. The ninja wasn't exactly faring too well, himself: though the mask that covered his face was intact, and his eyes were as focused and nondescript as ever, his suit and exposed skin were bloodied and patched in deep crimson, with more than a few sections where the fabric was just plain ripped out. Arkimeth delivered a powerful, direct hit to the ninja's right shoulder, attempting to sever the connection between the two, and the ninja swiftly brought his own pain to Ark in the form of a sudden sweeping kick to the torso. *KRRACK!* More than few ribs were lost for Ark, and possibly a bone or three for the masked demon Scorpion, and both of them burst flying in opposite directions, the collapsed floor mingling with their own bodies in crashes and strikes as they stabilized once again. They locked their eyes once more, ready for yet another exchange, but...

They faltered. Both of them dropped to their knees, using their individual energy to cling to the platforms somehow. Arkimeth coughed out a generous amount of blood, small electricity sparks surging through his body to cauterize his own wounds. Groaning was becoming standard for him at this state, but he never, even once stopped grinning. A bloody mess of white fragments hardly called teeth now, his smile was still in his face, even as he continued to stare at Scorpion, he was still just... smiling. Was he truly enjoying this? Or was his face locked up and lifeless, being moved by the will of his armor? Still, he blinked. He blinked twice, catching his breath as best he could in his current state, and he slowly stood, feet stuck in the small falling fragment of stone below him, and he shouted:

-"I CHANGED MY MIND!!" he cracked his hands merely by bringing them together inside his gauntlets, bringing a lively coil of white lightning into existence channeling both of his hands. "You want to drag me into hell?! Why don't we just-- enjoy the moment and stay on the trip?!" He blinked again, harder than before, yet still ever grinning. Now it was the time for the final attack.

[Metal Man]

OOC: I guess time is up? I mean, Gale hasn't called, but the time he set as the end has definitely passed...

[Repster]

Indeed it has Metal man, indeed it has.

[Galefore]

Sorry, I forgot to mention that I'm extending this round to Monday.

I was requested to do so by Acradius' opponent, and honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing some of these battles go on for a couple more days worth of posts.

So have at it.

[Trickster-kun]

Sorry, I forgot to mention that I'm extending this round to Monday.

I was requested to do so by Acradius' opponent, and honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing some of these battles go on for a couple more days worth of posts.

So have at it.

OH WOW.

We could've used this confirmation a bit sooner... ^^; Nevertheless, CHEERS!

[Metal Man]

In my case, though, it fine with you that the battle I'm in will probably finish with IRHP's next post?

[Galefore]

^Yeah, sure.

[Metal Man]

And now it is Monday.

[Galefore]

TIME.

Way to take advantage of the extension, guys.

[Trickster-kun]

TIME.

Way to take advantage of the extension, guys.

I'm guessing... July 4th weekend. :( '

-waits for judging-

[Vapor]

Yeah, I was at my Grandma's house the whole time with no way for me to use the internet.

sorry bout that.