Re: Battle Royale! Round 4: Artistry
01-17-2010, 09:01 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MyifanW.
Whit opened his eyes to a blank plane. He had escaped again. He stood up. pain filled rib and his leg- he must have sprained his ankle, broken his rib and such... no. That wouldn't have happened to him. He had never had a major injury before, and this was no different. He stomped his leg on the ground. Pain.
"It's sprained." the skull said.
Whit grimaced and looked at the skull again.
"While I appreciate your words when I was slipping out, I don't think they are necessary right now. In fact, I'm certain other options presented themselves while I was still above... like, for instance, I could have erased the lines of the trap. Then Mike would have been in pieces."
"You would have been too... and that doesn't mean anything as of now. You're hurt."
"I would not have died to something I, partially, built. It's impossible. Things don't turn against me, you know. And... I am not hurt."
He stomped his leg against the ground again. pain. Stomped again. pain. Again. pain? Again. it probably hurt... Again. Nothing.
He moved his foot around...it hurt...no it didn't. He stretched, feeling his rib sting... no, there was no pain.
Whit stood up tall again, with a smirk.
"I told you."
"...You... are a fool."
Whit drew a strap, tying his godgun to his wrist again. The old strap must have snapped. Feeling prepared, he examined where he was. A completely, empty plane... and under it was where the others were. He knew what to do. He drew a circle with his pencil in his right hand. Whit looked through it. He saw Mike first.
Mike sneered and ripped the daggers out of his side. Painful, but it was nothing! The daggers fell right out of his vectors. He looked for Whit, but saw nothing at the moment. He turned his murderous impulses to Itzal. Where Itzal and Zeke were, a wall seemed to form. He Glanced down at the purple Hoodoo daggers. Even in his anger, he could put the obvious together. These daggers were from the second stage, where everyone's abilities were weakened...
"Zeke!"
He flung them over with his many arms.
The Crystals never reached Zeke. A quick splash of White painted across Zeke, erasing the lines in front of him. In that instant, Zeke saw Whit, smiling like the bastard he was... upside down, and underground. What was going on? Before he could figure what he was seeing out, fractured walls flew up, connecting to the tops of the nets. The crystals hit the front of the walls and clattered to the floor. It was a good thing he had the nets cut. By doing so, he altered the bizarre paths they would have taken. If he hadn't, he would have been severed by the sudden planes that rose. The problem now was... he was trapped, mostly. The only way out was up...
Whit wasted no time capping the whiteout and turning his attention back to Mike. He hoped that that stroke would have dealt with Zeke, but he could not do the same thing to Mike. When Mike cut the net, the side Mike was on fell to the floor, rendering the trap wasted. Still, Whit had plenty of method to deal with him, especially now. First, an old favorite...
"What?"
Mike wasn't entirely sure what had just happened- his view of Zeke disappeared behind a blank wall. Then, he noticed movement, on the ground... Whit? Whit was upsidedown... on the ground... no, in it? He saw the gleam of the godgun, and raised his Vectors.
"Do you remember this?"
Whit had stuffed two of the pinecones in his Gun. One left.
Mike's eyes widened as a splinting inferno washed over him. His Vectors protected him... Much better than they did before. They oscillated against the blaze, diverting the heat. Still, Whit had used two cones- the flame burst was stronger and lasted longer. Flames got through the vectors and licked Mike's flesh.
As he withstood the fire, Mike screamed for blood. He remembered this all too well. He also remembered how he was going to strangle Whit and eviscerate his intestines. Whit was going to die horribly.
Spoiler
Whit opened his eyes to a blank plane. He had escaped again. He stood up. pain filled rib and his leg- he must have sprained his ankle, broken his rib and such... no. That wouldn't have happened to him. He had never had a major injury before, and this was no different. He stomped his leg on the ground. Pain.
"It's sprained." the skull said.
Whit grimaced and looked at the skull again.
"While I appreciate your words when I was slipping out, I don't think they are necessary right now. In fact, I'm certain other options presented themselves while I was still above... like, for instance, I could have erased the lines of the trap. Then Mike would have been in pieces."
"You would have been too... and that doesn't mean anything as of now. You're hurt."
"I would not have died to something I, partially, built. It's impossible. Things don't turn against me, you know. And... I am not hurt."
He stomped his leg against the ground again. pain. Stomped again. pain. Again. pain? Again. it probably hurt... Again. Nothing.
He moved his foot around...it hurt...no it didn't. He stretched, feeling his rib sting... no, there was no pain.
Whit stood up tall again, with a smirk.
"I told you."
"...You... are a fool."
Whit drew a strap, tying his godgun to his wrist again. The old strap must have snapped. Feeling prepared, he examined where he was. A completely, empty plane... and under it was where the others were. He knew what to do. He drew a circle with his pencil in his right hand. Whit looked through it. He saw Mike first.
Mike sneered and ripped the daggers out of his side. Painful, but it was nothing! The daggers fell right out of his vectors. He looked for Whit, but saw nothing at the moment. He turned his murderous impulses to Itzal. Where Itzal and Zeke were, a wall seemed to form. He Glanced down at the purple Hoodoo daggers. Even in his anger, he could put the obvious together. These daggers were from the second stage, where everyone's abilities were weakened...
"Zeke!"
He flung them over with his many arms.
The Crystals never reached Zeke. A quick splash of White painted across Zeke, erasing the lines in front of him. In that instant, Zeke saw Whit, smiling like the bastard he was... upside down, and underground. What was going on? Before he could figure what he was seeing out, fractured walls flew up, connecting to the tops of the nets. The crystals hit the front of the walls and clattered to the floor. It was a good thing he had the nets cut. By doing so, he altered the bizarre paths they would have taken. If he hadn't, he would have been severed by the sudden planes that rose. The problem now was... he was trapped, mostly. The only way out was up...
Whit wasted no time capping the whiteout and turning his attention back to Mike. He hoped that that stroke would have dealt with Zeke, but he could not do the same thing to Mike. When Mike cut the net, the side Mike was on fell to the floor, rendering the trap wasted. Still, Whit had plenty of method to deal with him, especially now. First, an old favorite...
"What?"
Mike wasn't entirely sure what had just happened- his view of Zeke disappeared behind a blank wall. Then, he noticed movement, on the ground... Whit? Whit was upsidedown... on the ground... no, in it? He saw the gleam of the godgun, and raised his Vectors.
"Do you remember this?"
Whit had stuffed two of the pinecones in his Gun. One left.
Mike's eyes widened as a splinting inferno washed over him. His Vectors protected him... Much better than they did before. They oscillated against the blaze, diverting the heat. Still, Whit had used two cones- the flame burst was stronger and lasted longer. Flames got through the vectors and licked Mike's flesh.
As he withstood the fire, Mike screamed for blood. He remembered this all too well. He also remembered how he was going to strangle Whit and eviscerate his intestines. Whit was going to die horribly.