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Character(s): Guzma and Janrha
Setting: The Eastern Border of Emptiness
Content: Worksafe.
Summary: Continued from Guzma and Janrha are getting stuck in. It is not going to go well for him. Or anyone, really.
Guzma may have been a blusterer, a jackass, and about as reckless as they come, but he was no fool. What's more, he had that street rat instinct that told him when shit was about to go south. That inner alarm had blared like a foghorn playing through a megaphone when Janrha had borne down on him like a freight train made of the word "kill." Someone like that wasn't aiming to play, and certainly wasn't aiming to play fair.
So, he'd responded in kind. As Janrha's fluid movement easily evaded the arthropod's assault, the skull boss stood motionless while the arrow traveled toward him. He might've been able to dodge an arrow from a less lethal combatant, but fortunately such a maneuver was unneeded. As the cold-laden bolt neared Guzma's surprisingly aged face, it suddenly ceased, as if the air itself had plucked it out of its trajectory. A crooked smirk crossed the tracksuit tyrant as a wisp in the air sheared the arrow in two.
https://puu.sh/wy0uS/49621fe74f.png
It came into a full view for just a moment, a dull gilded sharpness that shimmered before it entered a spectral haze again.
"Ya boy Guzma ain't no moron, chickadee." He sighed in faux exasperation, running his hands through the dirty marshmallow of his hair, the bags under his eyes growing as he closed them. Then, his face reoriented itself, the smirk coming back double.
"You ain't gonna hit shit with my boys backin' me up. Best get with it."
Then, he snapped his fingers, the surprisingly loud crackle sounding throughout the choked silence of the empty cityscape all around. As he did, a torpedo of black and blue seared down from the sky, bearing down on Janrha as Golisopod prepared for another round.
"BEAT DOWN, GUZZY JR!"
"TEAR HER ASS APART!"
Setting: The Eastern Border of Emptiness
Content: Worksafe.
Summary: Continued from Guzma and Janrha are getting stuck in. It is not going to go well for him. Or anyone, really.
Guzma may have been a blusterer, a jackass, and about as reckless as they come, but he was no fool. What's more, he had that street rat instinct that told him when shit was about to go south. That inner alarm had blared like a foghorn playing through a megaphone when Janrha had borne down on him like a freight train made of the word "kill." Someone like that wasn't aiming to play, and certainly wasn't aiming to play fair.
So, he'd responded in kind. As Janrha's fluid movement easily evaded the arthropod's assault, the skull boss stood motionless while the arrow traveled toward him. He might've been able to dodge an arrow from a less lethal combatant, but fortunately such a maneuver was unneeded. As the cold-laden bolt neared Guzma's surprisingly aged face, it suddenly ceased, as if the air itself had plucked it out of its trajectory. A crooked smirk crossed the tracksuit tyrant as a wisp in the air sheared the arrow in two.
https://puu.sh/wy0uS/49621fe74f.png
It came into a full view for just a moment, a dull gilded sharpness that shimmered before it entered a spectral haze again.
"Ya boy Guzma ain't no moron, chickadee." He sighed in faux exasperation, running his hands through the dirty marshmallow of his hair, the bags under his eyes growing as he closed them. Then, his face reoriented itself, the smirk coming back double.
"You ain't gonna hit shit with my boys backin' me up. Best get with it."
Then, he snapped his fingers, the surprisingly loud crackle sounding throughout the choked silence of the empty cityscape all around. As he did, a torpedo of black and blue seared down from the sky, bearing down on Janrha as Golisopod prepared for another round.
"BEAT DOWN, GUZZY JR!"
"TEAR HER ASS APART!"
