I'm not gonna dampen the spirits with another post about leaving the game, so I'm just gonna say that I'm going to try and get a post up. My IRL life has been hectic as shit for the last week and I haven't had much time to just sit down and write. Hopefully, I'll have that post up soon. Not gonna set a deadline because I always miss it, though.
Simple Unicycle
Member
?
STATUS: If they added downvotes to posts I would methodically go through and downvote every single post you've ever made. 5 mos ago
- Last Seen: 26 days ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 1860 (0.55 / day)
- VMs: 1
-
Username history
- Simple Unicycle 9 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Noctis,
mickilennial,
Ezekiel,
Supermaxx,
Bluetommy,
Half Pint,
ppppppppp,
Sep,
webboysurf,
Festive
Status
Recent Statuses
5 mos ago
Current
If they added downvotes to posts I would methodically go through and downvote every single post you've ever made.
4
likes
1 yr ago
My source is I made it the fuck up.
5
likes
Bio
An absolute clown with a fixation on faceless men who punch criminals.
Guaranteed to flake out of RPs at least 99% of the time.
Guaranteed to flake out of RPs at least 99% of the time.
Most Recent Posts
Level 3 - (7/30) + 1 = (8/30)
Difficulty Level 2
Location: Charnal Lane
Word Count: 171
The constant battle against the swarms of undead and one of the two large demons had an effect on Gene; that is, instead of being his usual goofy self, he fell silent as he fought relentlessly. In fact, he didn't have time to notice that the God Hand had worn off until he felt himself growing much larger. "What the-!?" He turned, only to see the strange wizard Kamek. Gene gave a goofy grin and thumbs up to Kamek, before turning back to the remaining Suffering. Jak and the others had taken out one, and the horde of undead was thinned out exponentially. It was time to end this.
Gene pulled out his Roulette Wheel and focused on the Suffering, praying for a Divine Smash. Failing that, literally anything that wasn't Grovel or La Bomba. He gave the wheel of fate a spin, and its decision was made...
Shockwave!
Satisfied, Gene let loose a shockwave at the Suffering as it charged right for him. God could only hope this would work.
Level 3 - (4/30) + 3 = (7/30)
Difficulty Level 1
And
Donnie
Level 3 - (20/30) + 3 = (23/30)
Location: Charnel Lane, Dead Zone
Word Count: 1,264
Donnie had opted not to use the Disc this time around, instead choosing to stay in the back of the van, where he examined the item he had obtained from the Tank. It was a bizarre little thing. At first glance, he had assumed it was some kind of cursed trinket, what with the creepy black skull in the middle and what felt like the spirit of a human being inside it.
But as he analyzed it with his enchanting equipment, he soon came to realize it was quite the opposite. It was an ingenious yet disgusting device. This little stone was once a man, and it still held that metaphysical status even in its current state, which meant it could be affected by curses. When the enchantment inside was activated, it redirected a curse onto the soul of the person inside. He shouldn't have expected much better, frankly, from the Spirit of a twisted monstrosity like the Tank.
All of his adventuring instincts told him to throw this abomination into a deep dark hole where it could never be found, or better yet, find a way to free the poor bastard inside.
But as he analyzed it further, he registered that the soul inside was no longer conscious or aware, and there was no way in hell he was going to be able to free the hapless man any time soon.
He thought back to Gene, completely unaware that he had likely been infected by whatever plague was powering those ghouls. He had known that some of them were still alive. The tongue of the zombie that had grabbed him was still warm. Possibly some kind of insanity-causing curse?
He had no idea if what Gene was infected with was biological or magical. Zombies in his world were animated by magic, but the Plague of Undeath spread like an illness.
He was no doctor, but he had to try. Better than letting Gene succumb to homicidal insanity. So, full of trepidation, he packed up his enchanting equipment, palmed the black stone, and walked back over to the seating area, sitting down next to the brawler.
“Hey Gene? I’ve got something to show you,” he said. Something in his voice probably gave away that this wasn’t the “happy” kind of showing.
Gene was a bit busy scratching his skin at the moment. It'd started getting really itchy for some strange reason. What's up with that? It was starting to really freak him out. Despite his circumstances in his own world, he was usually really healthy, so why would that change now?
Did it have anything to do with that fat zombie that barfed on him? He really should've dodged when he heard that noise. Now he was getting screwed for it. And he had just washed it off! By now the goop was in the van's plumbing. Nero was gonna kill him for that.
His thoughts were interrupted by Donnie's voice. Gene perked up, looking at Donnie curiously. "Uh, what's up?" he asked.
“First, have you been feeling okay lately?” It was patently obvious what Donnie was referring to.
Gene blinked. Jeez, it was like Donnie read his mind. "Uh... Yeah, actually. My skin's been really irritated and itchy..." He moved his hand from his unarmored forearm, revealing that his skin had become ghostly pale. "... Oh shit. It wasn't like that before."\
“Yep, you’re infected. I don’t know if this will work, but I might have a cure. I got this from the big zombie.” He shoved the black stone into Gene’s hands. “Hold this in your hand and try to concentrate on the illness going away. I know it sounds like hocus-pocus, but trust me, I figured out what this stone does.”
Taking the stone that was shoved into his hands, Gene looked it over. It looked... Pretty damn spooky. But hey, it'd cure him! So that had to mean it wasn't that bad.
"Alright, thanks Donnie." With those words, Gene took the stone in hand, closed his eyes, and attempted to focus on the illness. To help him along, he imagined himself beating the crap out of it so it'd leave him alone.
A almost draining like effect appeared all over Gene's body. After a few moments, Gene felt... A lot better! The itching was gone. Opening his eyes, Gene looked at his forearm and saw that his skin's pigment had returned to normal. However, the Purging Stone was destroyed in the process. "Wow! It's a good thing we got that thing, or I'd have been a goner. Thanks, Donnie."
“You’re welcome.”
Holy fuck that actually worked. Donnie couldn’t believe his eyes. Either these zombies really were cursed, or the weird physics of this world let it go through anyway. Either way, Gene was cured.
Suddenly, the van flipped over. Donnie’s world hadn’t developed seatbelts yet, however, so he was not secured enough to avoid tumbling all over the place. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”
And unluckily for Gene, he hadn't even been in a car until today. Just like Donnie, he went tumbling to the floor of the van. "What the hell was that?!"
Donnie peeled himself off of Gene and looked out the windows. Yep, everything had gone to the Twisting Nether. Nero was holding the van off the edge of a cliff with one arm, the zombies were glowing green, and there were two nasty demons outside. The monk acted quickly. Fiddling with the locked car door, he managed to get it open.
Donnie summoned the Disc and flew around to the van’s front, pushing against it. He was in peak physical condition, but he didn’t actually have to do much here: Nero was holding the van in place, and the Disc could move freely in the air. So he could just command the Disc to move forwards and up, digging its lip under the van and helping him push the vehicle up.
“Let me help you out!” he got out, grunting with exertion as he pushed against the van’s grille with all of his strength.
Gene, for his part, managed to get himself steady enough that he could start climbing to the door Donnie had just opened. He looked around, seeing it was just over the edge of the cliff, enough for him to jump right over to safety, which he did.
The only problem? There was now a shitload of pissed off zombies and two really pissed off demons to account for. Gene looked around, wondering what the hell to do, when he remembered the God Hand. It had recharged by now, and it could help keep the infected off of the van!
Grabbing the Deistic Brace, Gene ripped it off, and felt the power of a God flow through him. Grinning, he rushed forward, delivering a leaping kick that tore through multiple infected.
"KEEP WORKING! Gene shouted to Donnie and Nero, while he began to clear out the various zombies. He only hoped the two demons would be attracted to him, somehow. Maybe...
Right! He could try and piss them off deliberately! During a lull in the combat, Gene focused on the two demons, sticking his arm out in a thumbs down and yelling, "Bo-ring!" As if on cue, the two demons started to look a lot more pissed off than they did before.
... So much so that they started running right to him. Screw it, he was invincible! For a little while, at least. He continued to attack the infected, and the demons if they got close enough. He could only hope it was enough.
... Is it Iron Fist? I have a feeling it's Iron Fist.
Level 3 - (1/30) + 3 = (4/30)
Difficulty Level 1
And
Donnie
Level 3 - (17/30) + 3 = (20/30)
Location: Peach's Castle Kitchen
Word Count: 1,959
(Note: This post is a flashback, and a collab between myself and @Genon)
The toad tilted his head to the side at Gene's question, indicating curiosity. "Stronger?"
Gene's face fell. Oh great, they definitely didn't have anything stronger. Still, maybe...? "Y'know, alcohol! It gets you drunk! Don't you have any?"
The toad still looked confused. "Alcohol? Drunk? I don't know what that is."
... Perfect. They definitely didn't have any alcohol. Gene reared his head back and let out a groan. "... Great. Just great. Well Donnie, guess we're not getting beers."
Donnie paused from inhaling a plate of chicken parmesan and seemed to visibly deflate. “Ugh. That’s a shame. So, you first or me?”
"Hm. I'll go first I guess... Jeez, what should I even talk about though?" Gene cupped his chin in his hand, contemplating, before snapping his fingers. "Let's start at the beginning. You wanna know how I got this," Gene clapped a hand on the God Hand, "In the first place?"
“Oh, sure,” Donnie said, his interest audibly piqued.
Gene grinned. "Well, to put it simply, I saw some thugs harassing a girl. Now, me being the stand up guy I am, I went in to save her...and got my ass kicked. Those guys were looking for this thing called the God Hand, and were cutting people's arms off to find it, so they decided to see if I had it." He paused for dramatic effect. "So, long story short, I got my arm cut off."
Donnie looked at him like he had three heads. “Wait, so the God Hand is your actual replacement arm? That thing doesn’t have any caveats, does it? In my experience, objects of that level of power tend to have a catch of some kind.”
Chuckling, Gene took a drink from his juice, then continued. "Yeah, it's my actual arm. Turned out the girl I saved was carrying it and planted it right on my stump, no clue how that works though. As for drawbacks...well, I kinda have to keep this on," he pointed towards the Deistic Brace, "or else the God Hand's powers will weaken. Y'know, let it build up before letting it burst. Other than that? Nothing of note."
“Really now?” Donnie said as he chewed on a piece of chocolate cake, “You lucked out. Anyway, what happened next?”
That question got a simultaneous sigh and chuckle from Gene. "Well, it turned out the girl, Olivia, was crazy . She said that if I didn't follow her around and do as she said, she'd cut my freaking arm off with an axe!" Gene let out a groan, taking a long, long drink. God, he wished that the Toads had alcohol. "So from that point onward, I was basically her slave. She had me hunting down whatever bad guys were in the area, and, well... Let's just say that's where most of my stories come from."
“Oh Gods, that sounds horrendous. Still though, if you want to, you mind recapping a few of those stories?” Donnie was now up to his second apple turnover.
Gene nodded. "Oh, yeah, that was the point of this whole conversation right? Well, to give the highlights reel..." Gene began to list them all off on his fingers as he went along. "I fought two gay twins in freaky outfits, a fat demon named Elvis, a giant crane, those assholes that cut my arm off, that fat demon Elvis again, a gorilla wrestler, a team of midget superheroes, a succubus named Shannon, those assholes who cut my arm off again, the other God Hand user Azel, a robot named Dr. Ion, a wannabe rockstar and his friends, fat Elvis again, a psychic midget, the midgets again, Shannon again, a samurai, an old guy who turned into a fly, some fat ninjas, a guy with an afro, then Azel again, and finally, the king of demons Angra... Phew, I fought a lot of people."
Donnie looked like he was halfway between laughing at some of the stuff Gene said and being generally impressed. He didn’t know what a “superhero” was, but he just chalked that up to universal differences. “God, some of those fights sound like they must have been epic. On my end…I guess I’ll start at the beginning as well.”
“The first thing you need to know about my world,” Donnie said, “is that it’s wracked by war. There are two huge factions called the Alliance and the Horde. The reason they’re fighting doesn’t really matter for our purposes, but for some asinine reason, it has shades of a race war. Humans tend to be on the Alliance side, and I was raised in one of the last human bastions, a coastal port kingdom called Stormwind. My dad was a maritime trader, and he took me along on merchant trips. So then a massive storm hits, destroys the ship, and I end up clinging on to a piece of driftwood. I held on for what must’ve been days, and when it was over I found myself on some kind of island. The island was actually the shell of a giant, sapient sea turtle that had people living on its back. I faint immediately, got taken in by the natives. Oh, and the natives were talking pandas that walk upright. They’re called pandaren. Seriously.”
Gene blinked once, twice. Giant sea turtles? Panda people? What kinda world did this guy come from? Still, he figured he had to say something instead of just awkwardly staring at Donnie. "... Uh... Go on."
“Yeah, I should’ve figured I’d get that reaction. Azeroth’s a pretty weird place. Anyway, I ended up training on the Wandering Isle as one of their warrior-monks. It’s how I learned all my badass fighting moves. Cut to ten years later, when an Alliance and Horde ship crash into the Wandering Isle--that’s what it’s called by the way--and I took the opportunity to head back to Stormwind after a farewell. I checked up on my family, and well…”
He grimaces. “Remember how I said that Stormwind is one of the last human bastions? Azeroth--my world--has been targeted by the Burning Legion--basically a gigantic army of demons--for ages now, and one of their schemes was to create a puppet ruler in the form of an undead necromancer called the Lich King. And one of the Lich King’s greatest weapons? The Plague of Undeath, basically a magical disease that revives anyone who gets killed by it as a mindless undead under his command.”
He looked Gene in the eye. “The Plague of Undeath was primarily meant to destabilize the human kingdom of Lordaeron, one of the greatest military superpowers and the heart of the Alliance. So it’s designed to kill humans above all other species. Even elves and orcs don’t get revived. That’s why Stormwind is one of the last human kingdoms. And apparently, the bastard had unleashed it on Stormwind while I was off training on the Wandering Isle. My family was among those dead.”
He took a swig of grape juice. “So, with nothing tying me down at this point, I became a freelance adventurer, traveling the world, killing bad guys, and getting paid. I got good. Really, really, good. I killed thousands and thousands of monsters. I’ve saved the world, more than once, but I’m pretty proud of the time I killed Kil’Jaeden the Deceiver, a Burning Legion general and right-hand man of the demonic Titan Sargeras. I fought him onboard his spaceship with a group of 24 other people. Yes, he has a spaceship, don’t ask. Took a long time. We needed a full team of magical healers, several mages and warlocks, and we needed a few paladins and protection specialists to take the brunt of his damage. With all of us working together, though, he went down eventually. A few of us needed resurrection after the fact though.”
Gene was still trying to process the giant sea turtle when Donnie continued on. His story was an epic one, far more exciting than whatever antics he had wound up in, and far more serious to boot. Gene took down a Demon King, Donnie had saved the world several times over. And considering he was told not to ask about the spaceship, the only thing that wasn't rightly explained, he instead decided to just go with simple shock and awe in his response. "... Wow. That's... About all I can say. Wow... There is one thing I'm wondering about, though." He gestured to Donnie's handblades. "How'd you get those?"
“Oh, The Fists of the Heavens? That’s a trip. When Sargeras set his sights on Azeroth again recently, the different orders founded to fight him decided they needed to get some unique magical weapons to take him down. Among those was the Order of the Broken Temple, the monk order that I’m currently the Grand Master of. I set my sights on a few artifact weapons, legendary items that could prove useful. One of those were these.” He put the Fists on the table.
“The Fists were forged by a smith named Irmaat. He was trying to create the most powerful weapon imaginable. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to have as much common sense as he had skill in forging, because he decided to charge the handblades with power from the Elemental Plane of Air. He performed a ritual that targeted Al’Akir, the plane’s ruler and the strongest air elemental, and basically stole vast quantities of his power. Al’Akir knew what was happening though, and decided to sabotage it. He started donating even more power, filling the Fists with more magic than they could handle. Irmaat didn’t realize this, thought he had succeeded, and picked them up. The next instant, he accidentally creates a gigantic magic hurricane that levels his entire city and buries it in the desert sand, because he couldn’t control them at all. He died in the storm, of course, and they lay dormant for centuries until Al’Akir died during a recent event called the Cataclysm. I’m not going into that right now, but it caused a power struggle in the Plane, and another air elemental called Typhinus found them and used it against his enemies. He wins the war, but controlling chaotic energies for so long drove him nuts and he became a tyrannical despot.”
Donnie grinned. “So I killed him and took the handblades. Turns out that you need inner spiritual discipline to control it, and monks have that in spades. So that means that basically, only I can use them.”
He looked at the pathetically small vortexes in the center of the handblades. “Unfortunately, they’re not actually as impressive as that story makes them out to be right now. Galeem drained their power. A lot. They’re actually pretty weak right now, but I have a feeling they’ll regain their true strength eventually.” He took them off the table and sheathed them, then went back to devouring his four scoops of ice cream.
Gene eyed the handblades, almost wanting to make a grab for them to try them out. Still, he left them on the table, especially after hearing of their awesome power. How was it that Donnie didn't get killed like... Oh, wait, that was the next thing Donnie explained. Good to know.
When Donnie finished, saying that Galeem had drained their power, Gene felt a little disheartened. Who's to say that the other artifacts they may find wouldn't be drained as well? "Well, for what it's worth, they look like they'd be able to kick enough ass! ... I still wanna try them out, too." As soon as the words left his mouth though, Gene let out a yawn. "... Maybe some other time, though. I'm tired. What say we head to bed?"
“Yeah.” Donnie belched right after.. “I’m stuffed anyway.”
Level 3 - (0/30) + 1 = (1/30)
Difficulty Level 1
Location: Dead Zone (Redgraccoon City)
Word Count: 246
Gene began to roll his shoulders to relieve the tension in them, grunting slightly. Man, that bomb really hurt, but at least he didn't die or something. As he continued to stretch to get all the kinks out of his body, he let out a quick "thanks" to Blazermate. Then, Nero came up, and Gene let out a small chuckle in embarrassment, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Uh, sorry... I was getting so into beating the crap out of that thing I forgot all about the bomb. I'll keep on the lookout better from now on."
Then, Nero went and talked to the pretty boy band members. Gene couldn't hear what they said, but Nero and their leader shook hands, so obviously it was good. It was then that Nero called out to everyone, saying that they were moving on, and Gene quickly got into the van after him.
Once he was in the van, he quickly went to his outfit. It was still wet, which meant he couldn't wear it just yet, but he still had more changes of clothes in there. He pulled out one of his other outfits, before heading into the van's shower to change. A few moments later, he emerged, wearing something far more respectable. Folding up the other outfit and sticking it back into his normal outfit's pocket, Gene sighed, before sitting down. "I will never wear that thing again. I'm sorry you all had to see it."
Rushed post is shitty and rushed but at least I'm still in the game baybee.
As a car pulled through the alley and up to the shack, I ducked behind a garbage can, carefully peeking out to watch. Out of the car stepped an older man, early-60s at least, with slicked back grey hair and a cane. Coming out of the car with him was a man in his 30s with a black crew cut and a rugged face, with a pistol at his side and a cigarette on his lips. The old man took a moment to adjust his suit and tie, before the two of them entered the derelict shack.
I slipped out of my hiding place and leaned against the wall, peeking into the shack. The thugs playing Go Fish suddenly stood up from their chairs and turned to the old man as he walked through the door. The younger guy leaned against the doorway, taking a drag from his cigarette before flicking it onto the wooden floor. Quickly, he produced another from his pack, lit it with an old zippo, and went right back to puffing. God, I could go for a cigarette right now...
The old man began speaking to the thugs. "I take it you fools have been keeping busy waiting for us? How was your card game going?"
"Uh, it was going good, boss! Real good!" I almost had to choke out a laugh at the man's forced enthusiasm. This old guy must really scare the hell out of them for a hardened thug to be acting like this.
Old guy didn't look amused. He gave a small tsk, shaking his head slightly, before stepping forward. "Yes, yes, good to hear. Have you made any progress in your search?" Search, huh? That sounded promising. The only question was, search for what?
"We ain't gonna find the Question, he'd get the drop on us and not the other way around." That caused my eyes to widen beneath my mask. They're looking for me? I suppose I should be flattered. "So we've been spreading rumors about this place, saying that there's something big gonna go down. Sooner or later, it'll get back to him. He'll come here, and we'll take him down."
Shit. Roscoe might have had good intentions telling me about the tip he heard, but he'd unknowingly led me right to a trap. It'd be best to just get out of here now, come up with a plan of attack and return later... Yes, that sounded good. Slowly, I pushed myself away from my place on the wall, crouching down to walk past the window and avoid detection...
*BLAM!*
A gunshot! I whipped around, staring at the people in the shack through the shattered window. The chainsmoking man had his gun out, the barrel smoking, and pointed dead at me. For a moment, he and I stared at each other, while the others looked shocked. Not waiting for him to make the first move, I turned tail and ran. He fired another shot, clipping my shoulder and sending me tumbling to the ground.
Then, darkness.
The next thing I remembered, I was bound up in a dark room.
-----
The sudden burst of memory hit me like a freight train, and I found myself gripping my head trying to contain the pain... These guys were looking for me. The question was, why? Why did they want me? Why did they keep me alive? If they wanted to get rid of me so bad, shouldn't they have just shot me dead right there? So many questions, no answers.
Doesn't matter. What does matter is that right now there are thugs making their way to me. As the sound of footsteps approached the door, I slowly back up to a stall, opening it and slipping inside. There, I got up on the toilet and kept my head low, so they couldn't spot me too easily. I heard the door open, and the footsteps were even clearer than before...
"Come on out, ya faceless freak! I won't hurt ya... Much!" I almost scoffed. Talk about a generic threat. Once he throws this stall door open, he's gonna be in a world of hurt. I listened carefully, holding my breath. He was taking his time, opening stall door after stall door, whistling lowly all the while. I felt the knot of excitement in my gut tighten, waiting for release...
He opened the door, and I reacted quickly. I kept a firm grip on the top of the stalls and swung myself forward, my feet meeting his face. I heard the crack of his nose breaking, felt his shattered teeth digging into the soles of my shoes. He let out an ungodly scream of agony, falling to the ground. My grip on the stall's walls kept me from falling, and I let go once I had good footing on the ground.
Blood stained the once white bathroom tiles, and the thug was squirming in agony, clutching at his messed up face. I heard the sound of running footsteps approaching the bathroom, and quickly picked up the thug. Moving to the door, I stopped next to it, waiting for the others to burst in. Any second now...
I didn't have to wait long.
One of them burst right in, and I threw his buddy onto him. The two of them fell into a heap on the ground. Another was close behind the one who just walked in, and I clapped my hands onto his ears. Disoriented, he tried to raise his gun, but quickly smacked it aside and rammed an open palm into his throat, cutting off his airway. He fell to the ground, gasping for a breath that wouldn't come, and I turned my attention to the one who was still on the ground.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'LL FUCKIN' KILL Y-" His shouts were cut off by a sharp kick to the face, and he fell limp. The others weren't here yet, must've been in other rooms. I looked around for some sort of weapon, before heading back to the stall. The toilet tank cover. That'll work. I picked it up, grunting a bit at the weight of it, before heading out into the hall.
Down the hall, I saw the remining men fast approaching me. Four in all, no guns on them, just their fists. At least I had a bit of an advantage there. One of them immediately went into a sprint when he saw me, throwing a wild haymaker my way once he was near me. I ducked out of the way of the blow, then swung the cover into his knee. His leg broke like a matchstick, and he fell to the ground, gripping his broken limb and shrieking in pain. One down.
The other three were a bit more cautious, slowly inching towards me and quickly jerking back if I made any sudden moves. Must have been scared. No clue why, I was just a guy in a cheap suit and a cheaper mask. One of them finally mustered up the courage to attack, throwing a punch; I tried to dodge, but he must've been waiting for that, because he quickly brought his hand around to catch me in the side of the head. I dropped the toilet tank cover on reflex, reaching up to the side of my head.
That upped the courage of the other two, who quickly rushed forward to attack. One of them went for a cross punch which caught me in the gut and caused me to bend over in pain, while the other tackled me to the floor. He was right on top of me now, landing hit after hit on my face. Shit, this is it, isn't it? I'm done for...
It was then that an idea popped into my head.
He continued to wail on me for a bit, but after a few more hits I went limp. Slowly, he stopped punching, then got up off of me. "Shit, he's dead. Boss'll have our heads for this," the one who was going to town on me said.
"Shit, we'll dump him. Say he escaped. That'll be better than us killing him, boss'll just dock our pay instead." The second thug paused, picking me up by the legs. "Help me with him, will ya?" Now two of them were carrying me. This wasn't what I was counting on, but it could help. I waited, that familiar knot of excitement building in my stomach...
I jumped out of their grasps in a flurry of punches and kicks. My foot struck Thug #2 in the jaw with a sharp *CRACK!*, while I clamped my hand onto Thug #1's arm. Their grips on me released, and I fell to the ground, dragging Thug #1 with me. Thug #2 was already falling to the ground and nursing his jaw, which was broken judging by the crack I heard.
I quickly released my hold on #1 and got up, kicking him in the groin. His face went red from mingled pain and anger, and I quickly took advantage of his state to deliver a quick kick to his head. Lights out for him.
Thug #3 was watching in terror, quickly reverting to his earlier state of backing away from me in terror. #2 was too busy rolling around on the ground to be a threat. I slowly approached #3 as he backed away, quickening my pace all the while, until I sprinted towards him and delivered a few quick punches to his liver. Then, I grabbed his arm and slammed him into the wall, before letting him slip to the floor.
I walked past #2 on the way to the exit door, kicking him in the face along the way to knock him out. Time to get out of this shithole.
To Be Continued...
Mayhaps I may do a thing.
Level 2 - (18/20) + 2 = (20/20) LEVEL UP
Difficulty Level 1
Location: Dead Zone (Redgraccoon City)
Word Count: 752
In the time after the fight, Gene quickly hopped into the shower of the van, not bothering to take his clothes off as they needed to be cleaned the most. Unfortunately for him, he didn't take into account the fact that wet clothes were uncomfortable as hell to move around in. Stepping out of the shower with nothing but a pair of tighty-whities on and wet clothes in hand, Gene reached into his pants pocket. He had a bunch of different outfits he'd bought, and they all could fit nice and neat into his pocket! ... Somehow.
As he rummaged around in there, his hand came across a pair of clothes. From the feel of it, they were still dry, too! Grinning, he pulled them out, only to find...
Oh God.
That freaky, awful, weird fishnet thing! It had feathers on the collar too! He didn't even know how he got it, one day he just... Had it! Suddenly, the van came to a stop. Oh no. He heard gunfire, and Nero's voice yelling at something. Then, there were the distinct sounds of combat, likely the others joining in on fighting whatever was outside. Crap, crap, it was too late to get anything else! Quickly, Gene began to put on the clothes, regretting his choice all the while. The others were gonna think he was some sort of sicko after this.
With a dramatic flair, Gene kicked the door of the van wide open, revealing him in all his glory.
With a yell of excitement, Gene ran out, fist raised... Only to stop dead in his tracks as he saw the big zombie the others were fighting. This thing was built like a tank! Oh, that's a good name, a Tank! He should pitch it to the others... Wait, now wasn't the time for coming up with names, now was the time for kicking ass! "Hey, freak! Over here!" he called out, before charging at the monster.
It was already weakened by the combined efforts of his allies and the boy band looking dudes. By the looks of it, the quartet were already here fighting it before the rest of them arrived; they had just finished up their little team combo. Having felt that the God Hand hadn't yet recharged in the time between the end of the earlier fight and now, Gene instead decided to go in for a few normal punches and kicks. This thing couldn't be much tougher than any of the Four Devas.
He continued his charge, delivering a leaping kick to the Tank! ... Which was very easily shrugged off. So, Gene began to let out his basic combo, finishing it off with a high kick! The Tank still didn't budge. Instead, it raised its beefy fists up high to bring them down onto Gene. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Gene felt his honed reflexes saving his ass, and he found himself back flipping just out of the way of the attack.
Well, normal attacks didn't seem to do very well. He'd have to try a different tactic. With it decided, Gene whipped out the Roulette Wheel, and prayed for a Ball Buster... And the words "Ball Buster" appeared before him! Guess he still had some luck after all!
He turned around and, with practiced precision, delivered a backwards kick right into the zombie's big, ugly cajones. He must have still had feeling in his body after all, as his gross pale face turned a shade of blue, and twisted into a comically pained expression. As the Tank stood there stunned, Gene saw something in his mind's eye...
He grinned, and before he knew it, he was delivering a flurry of rapid punches into the beast's belly, as it began to twitch involuntarily at the beatdown it was receiving. Slowly, Gene began to yell, starting as a low growl but soon turning into a full on scream, as though he was voicing his fighting spirit. Faintly, he heard beeping, which slowly began to increase in speed and volume until...
An explosion!
Gene and the Tank were sent flying in opposite directions, Gene banging against the side of Nero and Nico's van and landing on his face. That... Hurt. A lot. Why didn't anyone tell him the Tank was rigged to blow? Well, hopefully it was finished off... Gene pushed himself up, groaning in pain, before rolling his left shoulder. He was probably lucky if it wasn't shattered. "Jeez, why didn't anyone tell me he was gonna blow up? I could've died!"
© 2007-2025