[IC] Green vs ???

[Green]

A red sun rises in the horizon.The faint sound of music echoing off the surrounding mountains is slowly increasing in volume. The source is approaching.

With the sun flaring behind it, a lone white motorcycle comes streaking through the desert wasteland, kicking up monstrous dust clouds behind as it speeds towards the abandoned city. Music is blasting loudly off it's modified CD-player. The driver, donning a full-leather white biker suit, red lines running up the sides, with matching helmet and red-tinted visor for extra swag. A black harness adorned with equipment, pouches and weaponry is attached to his chest and legs, the most notable being the sheathed katana strapped to his back. Judging, in addition to this, by his, elbow and leg guards, there is no doubt. A fight is his destination. The music roars.

**..Flip a switch and turn it off, you won't be able to breathe, so either way you're a casualty..**

The motorcycle halts it's approach at the very edge of the town, staring down the straight-built road leading all the way to the town square (700m) further down. The driver, Mordem twists the handle, it's engine roars a few times. He leans the bike on his left foot, and looks around.

**..And with a spark it's gonna be the biggest fire they've ever seen! Cut me down or let me run, either way it's all gonna burn!..**

He removes his helmet, throws it to the ground, and unsheathes his sword with his right hand, before twisting the bike handle again, announcing his arrival once more. His arrival was no lollygag. There was to be a fight, and he was going to win it. Because why the fuck not, he's Mordem Maare.

**..The only way that they'll ever learn..**

He flips off his CD-player, and starts shouting.

"Hey asshole, I got places to be, people to kill. Want to step out of the darkness, and fight?"

---

(Trivia; ** = Music )

[Schradinger]

"Impatient little twerp, ain't he?" Bloodshot said to himself as the echoes of the song faded into the ruined city around him. He stood leaning against the single remaining wall of a gas station not too far inside the town, out of sight of the bike and its rider. Apparently, the tanks underneath what used to be the stations pumps had managed to explode, taking half the building with them. Frak knows how that happened. All that was left now was a crater and the back wall of the station. "Well, I suppose it's time then."

He pushed off the wall and circled the crater, walking out into the main street. The other man would be able to see him now, clad all in black, the plates of his armor reflecting none of the light of the crimson sun. It was quite the contrast to his opponent's stark white garb. "Mordem... Maare." He enunciated each word clearly and separately, and loud enough for the other man to hear across the hundred or so meters that separated them. Not that there was any other noise to get in the way, now that he'd cut his music. "It really was very considerate of you to agree to meet me here." His voice came out of the mask with a distinct mechanical tone, and he turned to fully face the other man. "Most of my targets run and hide. Surround themselves with as many guards as they can get their hands on. It's annoying." He gripped a pistol with his right hand and pulled it free of its holster. "So thanks for that."

The pistol came up and his stance shifted in the same instant, knees bending in preparation for impending action and his torso twisting to push his right side forward and brace his shot. One hundred meters, one handed, with only fractions of a second to aim. Nearly impossible for an ordinary human, but for Bloodshot it was all but routine. If he wanted a challenge, he'd need a ricochet or two thrown in for starters, then... ooh, a ricochet. Now there's an idea... Could be fun. Then again... Nah. Let's just see what this guy's capable of first.

He squeezed the trigger as soon as the pistol lined up with the other man's heart and the report echoed through the deserted buildings as the armor piercing tracer round sped towards its target. After all, the bounty never said they wanted him alive.

[Green]

And there he was. The man of the hour! Codenamed Bloodshot, for some obscenely ironic reason Mordem assumed.

He went over the details in his mind once more, just to be on the safe side. This guy, Bloodyshots, had called him, asked him to meet him out here in the middle of nowhere, to shoot him dead, or something. Mordem had a pretty big bounty on his head, so that probably had something to do with it. He couldn't recall killing his wife, so a personal vendetta was hardly the reason. On the other hand, he was wearing a mask of sorts. Very vigilante. Not that it was of any importance. Mordem already knew who he was, this so-called Bloodspatter. Or was it Bodyblow? Eh. Whatever. He had been polite enough to introduce himself, a tactic that would normally inspire fear in the hearts of lesser men. Mordem was no lesser man, he was a god damn marvel, and he had googled Botshock before he got here, to no avail.

The man in black started talking. Something about getting some guards. For hire? Was he selling? Mordem had no idea. No attention was paid. The lack of information meant one of two things. Botox was either a pro, or a no-name looser. The latter would not have had enough style to invite him to his own assassination. Mordem had sorted it out, this guy was the son of that one ninja dude he killed this one time. They were both wearing black. Total give-away. Mordem's deductional abilities were unparalle-.. *TshCHING* A bullet flew past him, he had swung his sword and deflected it a few milliseconds before it would have hit him right in the heart.

Mordem squinted. A gun? What kind of ninja uses a gun? "What the fuck!?" He shouted, "You're not a real ninja!" and twisted the handle of his motorcycle, accelerating forward, doing a small wheelie for the hell of it. As the bike was moving, gaining speed and balance, he; in one fluid motion, got his left foot onto the the handle, and the right onto his seat, as he pulled his trusty handgun with his left hand. He started surfing his bike at high velocity.

(( If Bloodshot has not started shooting at him again by this point: ))

Driving towards the man in black at 60mph, Mordem decided to make his first move in similar style as his opponent; checking how he dealt with bullets. Two shots were fired in quick succession. One at his chest, and one at his thigh.

[Schradinger]

A bullet-timer then. Or possibly not, given how little attention he had been paying. Special sword? Perhaps. Either way, it became irrelevant as the man gunned his motorcycle and charged toward him. Bloodshot just smiled beneath his mask and made a single minor correction to his aim, then squeezed the trigger again. Impatient and cocky. A thrill-seeker and show-off. All four were things that could be used against him, and three of them just were.

His aim, oddly enough, had shifted down rather than up toward Mordem, and the shot rang out before the motorcycle had covered even 20 meters of distance, aimed directly at the vehicle's fuel tank. The armor piercing round would easily be capable of rupturing the comparatively flimsy metal (assuming a normal bike is in play), while the tracer portion would have no trouble igniting its contents. Preferably with some rather spectacular results due to the enclosed tank. Plenty of wonderful bits of shrapnel in addition to the fireball. Very fourth of july.

[Green]

The bullet hit it's mark perfectly. Mordem just kept driving, as a small trail of burning gasoline ran along the side of the bike due to the overall lack of pressure contained in it's fuel tank, as is normal, regardless of it being on fire or not, apparently.. Mordem made a mental note of Bucky's desire to blow things up, and started bike surfing and shooting as he would have.

[Schradinger]

In hindsight, it should have been obvious. The nearest functioning gas station was probably over a hundred miles away, and that bike was no doubt pretty darn close to empty. If it had been half full or more, the pressure created by the bullet impacting then the heat expanding might have been enough to rupture the tank (like shooting a half-full jug of milk, but with fire), but as it was the fireworks show left a great deal to be desired. "Frak."

The first bullet struck his chest as planned, slamming into his armor with enough force to drive him off his feet. The second bullet glanced off the armor on his leg as he fell, and he hit the ground rolling to his own right. 60 mph covers 100 meters pretty fast, and his left hand came back to grip the two-foot retracted staff and pull it free of its sheath as the motorcycle closed the distance. It began to extend as the motorcycle came parallel with him and he swept it toward the other man's knees in an attempt to both break the joints and remove the joyriding freak from his transportation.

[Green]

For a moment, a feeling of disappointment crashed down upon Mordem. Was that it? Two measly gunshots and down he went? Darn it all... Wait a minute. No, he was still in the game. He smiled, relieved, as Bloodshot rolled back onto his feet, weapon in hand. Sheathing his pistol, and drawing his grappling gun in quick succession, Mordem revealed that he never planned on staying on the bike. As he closed in the distance between himself and Bobby Shaw, he fired a hook onto the building at the left street corner (his left) a run-down wooden construction that had previously resembled a fish store, as hinted by the torn up sign. As the hook pierced through the rotten wooden wall and a pillar on the second floor, Mordem jumped, flying well-past and over the staff-swinging maniac below and let go of his grappling device after flicking a small button on it's side, effectively halting the small extending roll of 60ft steel cable attached to his chest harness somewhere along the half-way click, and sending him swinging past, and around the corner. Still going at decently high, if not unfortunate, velocity.

But before he got that far, as his now-free hand moved towards his right rear belt-pouch, his mind pondered upon why somebody would have a fish store in a desert wasteland. A soft thud emitted from the ground below, 3-4m past Buckshot's location at the time of the jump; a nice little pack of C4 had found it's way from his pouch to the ground right before Mordem disappeared around the corner. Trigger still in his pouch.

Needless to say, the tale of his motorcycle ended here, totaling itself once it tipped over further down the road, crashing into a nearby cafê. Litting the whole thing on fire by the time the burning gasoline would catch up to it.

[Schradinger]

Bloodshot let the momentum of his swing carry him around to face the direction the man had gone, his eyes catching the last flash of white as the man disappeared and his ears noting the dull thud in the dirt. His eyes flashed down and the item was revealed to be a block of C4, primed and ready for its power to be harnessed. It took him all of half a second after it struck the ground to put a single bullet through the detonator. Without that, the stuff won't go off even if you light it on fire. Convenient, innit?

With the problem of the C4 out of the way, Bloodshot turned to the building Mordem had disappeared behind and stared it down. Wooden construction, half rotted in places from age and lack of maintenance. Not the kind of place that's well suited to taking hits from armor piercing bullets. "Ping." An audio command to Bloodshot's helmet that would be inaudible from outside it. The helmet complied by activating its penetrating radar feature and dousing the building ahead with concentrated radio waves, revealing the location of everything inside (or outside and nearby) that had more mass than a tablecloth. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

[Green]

His swing continued, reaching an angle where he had to decide if he wanted to cut the cable, or reel in and hope that the wooden wall would fail to withstand the force of his body. In hindsight, he should have bought another reel of steel wire before coming here. Oh well. His sword was brought down upon the wire, and he kept flying ahead. His speed became less of a problem, when it more or less nullified his fall, approaching the ground like a plane would approach a runway. It was for moments like these, that he even bothered wearing hard plastic leg guards. Hitting the ground lightly, he skid along the ground for 10 meters, his upper body leaned slightly backwards, and his right foot up front, and left knee down. The metal-reinforced boots produced sparks as he went. He wasn't attempting to slow down too much, as that would probably result in that he would suddenly come to a complete halt, and break every fricking bone in his lower body, and then some. Skidding also looked a lot cooler, so there's that.

As he slowed down further down the street, and came to a stop, he pulled something from a pouch, and rose to his feet slowly. He put on his shades, and pushed the trigger on the detonator that he retrieved right after. It was a moment he expecting to be very Cool-guys-don't-look-at-explosions-esque. Instead, it turned out to be nothing more than.. Well, nothing. He faced the building he had just swung around. A steel wire hanging one third across the street. A mix of anger, and excitement on his face. "Fuck it."

He started walking back towards where he had left Bobby Brown. He figured he'd just hit him with his sword until he fell down, or something. Guy had a metal stick, big deal. He rounded the corner, sword in hand. "Okay. So you're not retarded. Congratulations. Keep that shit up, and I will be very.. very.. satisfied." He pointed his sword forwards. "How about we solve this in a more direct manner, hm?"

[Schradinger]

Two more bullets fired through the building as the man approached proved to be just as ineffective as the first, ricocheting off the sword into the ground and another building. Not a bullet timer then. No way he could have seen them coming through the walls. That left a precog sense or special sword. Or both. Either way it spelled the end of the gunfight portion of the day. "Wonderful."

When the man came into view and offered his suggestion, it was one that Bloodshot had already resolved to initiate. I guess great minds think alike, or something. "Fine by me. Bullet holes or electrical burns, I get paid either way." The staff retracted as he holstered his pistol, sliding back into itself until it reached a length of only two feet, and he turned to face Mordem fully, staff held ready in his left hand while his right remained empty. For the time being, at least. "I'll even give you one free hit."

[Green]

"So that you can exploit the opening? Sounds fun." Mordem said, taking another step towards Bongo. The guy was wearing armor that could withstand a .45 , and while he could see the marks from his bullets, it was obvious that it would never tear through. Well, whatever. Under the shoulders, joints, and neck area was usually less armored, if at all, and if his eyed served him right, the joints seemed very inviting. A bit too inviting perhaps, he´d find out soon enough. His opponent was proficient with a staff-like type of weapon, electrical in nature if the man was referring to it when he spoke. Mordem could only assume. It was likely not going to be an easy fight, thank god.

The staff had retracted from it´s full length. Had to keep an eye out for whenever it extended again, would allow for some hefty maneuvers that would be hard to deal with. Mordem walked casually into striking range, and swung his sword from right to left with his right arm, using a moderate amount of force, aiming at his left knee. It was, by Mordem´s assumption, not going to hit, neither was it meant to. His left side was as open and inviting as a bottle of water in Sahara, and he maintained a complete lack of a stance. Facing forward, standing nonchalantly like a plank made of rubber.

[Schradinger]

The sword clunked against the side of his armor's knee-pad with even less fanfare than the C4 had produced. "That's it?" The back of the knee might have been a good target if Mordem had been able to get to it from where he stood, but all things considered the "attack" was about as wounding as dropping a butter knife on concrete. Bloodshot didn't even bother with trying to block it.

There was an opening on Mordem's left side that had been created by the first stroke of the melee portion of the fight, but unfortunately Bloodshot's right hand was empty, and the sword had greater reach than his gauntlet blades which left Mordem just out of range for a quick retaliation. By that means at least. Instead, he gripped the idle staff in his left hand tighter and shoved it forward toward the center of Mordem's chest, extending it as he did so to compound both the speed and force of the blow.

[Green]

-Clunk-

Mordem would smile, but doing so would give away the game. Like any decent chess player would tell you, always sacrifice your queen to win the game. Or was it peasant? Eh. Whatever. Bondage was not surprised by his attack, which was good. A violent response was imminent. Here it comes. Mordem was more than ready for it.

When the man's hand tightened, and moved just slightly forward, Mordem shifted his body sideways, his left shoulder in front, as he took a step forward with his left foot, bending the other to drop slightly downwards in preparation for his following move. The staff shot past him, and as he had hoped, extended fully. His left hand gripped the lower part of the hilt of his sword, edge placed at Bourne's knee still, and was brought up with full force towards the exposed area on the inside of the man's elbow as he shifted. He was careful to avoid hitting the bottom part of the staff, which likely rested below the arm, and not on the side of which he attacked. To prevent a block, he made sure to use only the length of the sword that was required to hit the exposed area, and not extend the sword too far past the arm of his opponent, as that would likely be met by the staff resting (I assume) on the underside of the arm. His right hand leading, left hand pulling. The shift itself provided additional force, but did leave Mordem's back exposed to his opponent's right side. To exploit such relied on the result of this attack however, as his enemy would have to recover from the thrust fast enough to save his arm. If not, well.

[Schradinger]

The kid had some nice moves, that much was certain. Quick, too. Most people would have been flattened by that thrust, rather than avoiding it and using the new position to initiate a counter-attack. Mordem wasn't the only one with exceptional reflexes, however, and by the time the blade reached the level of his elbow, Bloodshot was retracting the staff back toward himself and bending his elbow away from the strike, just enough that the tip of the sword swished against the fabric of his body glove instead of through the bone and muscle of the arm.

Simultaneously to this, his right arm came up and drove toward Mordem's unprotected left side, fingers curled into a fist and aimed at his lower ribcage. The fist wasn't the only part of the attack Mordem had to worry about, however, and when it closed to within a foot of the other man the twelve inch blade housed in Bloodshot's right gauntlet was released. The blade, with the help of a short extension segment, would project its full twelve inch length past the end of the mercenary's fist, further compounding the speed and piercing power of the blow, as he had also done with the staff.

[Green]

Missed. Sweet! The man wasn´t about to fall over dead anytime soon. Lovely.

He continued the swing of his sword upwards, already knowing where the next strike would come from. In his peripheral vision, he could see Bodyslam twist his body, left shoulder back, right forward, a clear indication of the right arm thrusting forward. Mordem noted that his opponent was overly fond of thrusting attacks. Using that against him shouldn´t be a problem.

His sword flew over his shoulder, as he had intended if his first counter-attack had missed, and held vertically against his back. He bent his knees, and crouched forward, moving out of the path of the attack. The incoming blow, which involved a hidden blade, skid horizontally along the side of his sword, producing an uncomfortably high screeching noise. The blow itself carried such force that it would easily have skewered Mordem upon a direct hit. On it´s current path, however, the massive strength of his opponent went unnoticed. Upon contact, Mordem shifted his balance from his right leg to his left (front), and his upper body was brought forward. When Redshot´s arm was extended fully, Mordem would have skid his sword all the up to his opponent´s right elbow, utilizing the same weak spot as before, but this time able to use the full length of his blade since there was nothing between his sword and it´s mark. So came the blow. He brought his left arm forward, while his right hand was pulled towards his chest, slashing upwards over his shoulder, continuing downwards in what would be a continuous motion forward against Redshot´s left hand as well as it´s intended target, should the sword pass unhindered.

[Schradinger]

Unfortunately for Mordem, the blade was extending from the back of the gauntlet rather than the front, and his sword's progress came to an abrupt halt at Bloodshot's wrist, where it sandwiched itself between the flat of the gauntlet blade and the back of the mercenary's hand. At the instant this happened, Bloodshot twisted his arm and wrist down and back, aiming to disarm the other man of his primary melee weapon.

On another front, or rather in Mordem's front, the step-crouch forward had brought the man nearly nose-to-metal with Bloodshot's now-retracted staff, and all that would be required to strike him in the face was a simple twist of the wrist. Given the backward force being applied to the man's sword, however, Bloodshot decided to go one better and add a full swing to the blow, to compensate in case the man let Bloodshot's attempt at disarming him pull him backward. If all went well, which it rarely did, the blow would strike Mordem square in the face and that would be the end of it.

[Green]

Mordem quickly realized his error, and instead of holding onto the sword, he swiftly let go of the handle as soon as it became clear that it had stuck itself between the gauntlet and arm of his foe, and forwarded his own arms as intended. Bringing down his left elbow to block the incoming blow from the staff while his right hand went for a grenade. The blow connected with his hard plastic elbow guard, which saved him from the lethal electrical shock of which he was unaware would have struck him if not for the insulation properties of his protectors. The swing itself hit him hard, and sent him tumbling two meters backwards. Before he hit the ground rolling, pulling a knife from his boot with his left hand, A small metallic -clink- emitted from Bloodshot´s feet, a grenade had found a comfortable place to sit, it´s pin pulled. Mordem swiftly pulled his gun with his right hand and resumed a readied stance as his movement halted and stood ready for whatever the man was, or was not, going to throw at him. Even if it was his own grenade.

Fuck. He was way too close to the blast radius. Should start running.

[Schradinger]

A good swift kick sent the grenade back toward its source as Bloodshot's gauntlet blade retracted and he flung the sword out behind himself, well away from where Mordem now stood. His right hand came back to his hip as the grenade reached its destination and he pulled his own pistol free, though he didn't raise it as yet. He didn't know what the blast radius for this particular brand of grenade was, but judging from that look on Mordem's face it was at least two meters. Here's hoping the armor can take the brunt of the damage. There was no time to turn and run, so Bloodshot just took a step back with his left foot to try and brace himself for the impending explosion.

[Green]

"Not going out alone!" Mordem screamed, and shot the grenade.

[Schradinger]

Kaboom.

The explosion caught Bloodshot full in the chest and threw him off his feet in spite of the bracing he'd done, and apparently grenades from the past are a lot less clean than those from the future, as this one also contained small bits of shrapnel in addition to the explosive itself. Most of the fragments bounced harmlessly off his armor, and while his body glove did a fine job countering the explosive force of the blast, he winced as he threw an arm up to protect his neck while his other exposed joints were assaulted by the small metal projectiles. The shrapnel cut through the body glove with relative ease, given the velocity it was moving, and once Bloodshot hit the ground, a good five meters from where he'd started, he gritted his teeth against the pain and forced himself to sit up. He had to make sure the other man was down. If not, well, he still had his gu... Frak. His eyes found the gun lying three meters to his right. Good thing he had a spare.