12-19-2006, 05:57 AM
Chance whirled.
The majin struck out at the offending Dante soldier in front of him, sending the last blue-suited alien spiraling through the air and into the ragged wall beyond. The shed collapsed under the impact, wood rattling down around the suddenly limp figure in a flurry of splinters and hay. Buu smirked and turned his blood-red eyes to find the next pest.
The forces of Dante were persistent. The majin had to give them that, if nothing else.
Mere minutes ago one of the enemy squads had broken past the Outcast's carefully erected door as if it were nothing but dry cardboard. Now the streets of the small walled-off town were riddled with the remains of spent shells and bodies, the air filled with the staccato bursts of discharging rifles. He stood in the middle of it all, at the crossway between two roads, fresh corpses littered about his diminutive form. He smiled. It was if he was in his element. His injured arm gave a throb within its sling, and the child flinched.
As if his pain had been a signal, a wave of hot lead sprayed out from the cover of an alley down the cross-street, rounds ripping up the air in a frenzy; a pack of wild dogs in metal form. Faster than bolts of lightning, Buu's remaining three arms blurred through the air in a chaotic whirl, slapping the rounds away disdainfully until the last echo of gunfire died out into nothing but the distant shouts of panicked men as they tried desperately to form up.
A rattling of metal.
Pink electricity crackles off of every surface of the prototype Buu as he thrust one of his free hands downward with a grin, the limb elongating horribly as it punctured through the ground and tunneled in the direction of the fevered fingers that were working so furiously to reload a spent clip.
The Dante soldier likely never realized what was coming until it was too late. As the trembling boy slapped the magazine into the bottom of his assault rifle, as he tilted it to check that the magazine was clear, the monster's hand ripped out from the soil beneath his booted feet in a shower of broken rock and a boom that echoed louder than thunder. Fingers curled into a steel-hard fist rushed up towards his torso, electricity and raw power, enough to level a building, pouring through every pore. The soldier opened his mouth to scream. He never got the chance.
Buu waited for a few long, horrible seconds before retracting his arm. A wet thunk echoed loudly from the shadowed contents of the alley as his fingers came free, whizzing like a retracting tape measure through the hole buried in the ground and into the open air. His arm undulated like a snake, twisting, writhing, dripping blood. He sneered in distaste and flicked the remains from his hand. ?Ew.?
After cleaning himself off, Kid Buu turned his head to survey the shattered remains of the gate in the distance. Even from here the hole seemed huge. Blue specs like ants poured out from its center, threatening to overwhelm the Outcasts and spill over further into the streets. He scowled. Just what he needed: more blood on his pants.
The debt had been paid, but there was still more to be done. The battle waged on, and Super Buu, unless he was very much mistaken, had more kills than he did. The child would be damned if he was going to let that huge pink sword-wielding motherfucker outdo him again. Not now. Not when he and Seventeen had just squared up. Not when he finally had the chance to prove himself after all these years!
Never again would he be overlooked! Chance had chosen him for a reason. Chance had let him live for a reason!
The child's eyes were focused in intense concentration as his other two arms seemed to melt, to lose their definition, flowing into long, hand-tipped tentacles. In unison, all three limbs plunged through the ground like hunting sharks, carving through the earth and into the far distance. Towards the gate. The tiny azure specks that was the Dante formation scrambled in every direction as Buu's arms lunged out from underneath, lashing out with punches and energy blasts in a whirling dervish of flailing puttalin.
He would defend the fortress with his life, if for no other reason than to spite the universe.
Never again...
The majin struck out at the offending Dante soldier in front of him, sending the last blue-suited alien spiraling through the air and into the ragged wall beyond. The shed collapsed under the impact, wood rattling down around the suddenly limp figure in a flurry of splinters and hay. Buu smirked and turned his blood-red eyes to find the next pest.
The forces of Dante were persistent. The majin had to give them that, if nothing else.
Mere minutes ago one of the enemy squads had broken past the Outcast's carefully erected door as if it were nothing but dry cardboard. Now the streets of the small walled-off town were riddled with the remains of spent shells and bodies, the air filled with the staccato bursts of discharging rifles. He stood in the middle of it all, at the crossway between two roads, fresh corpses littered about his diminutive form. He smiled. It was if he was in his element. His injured arm gave a throb within its sling, and the child flinched.
As if his pain had been a signal, a wave of hot lead sprayed out from the cover of an alley down the cross-street, rounds ripping up the air in a frenzy; a pack of wild dogs in metal form. Faster than bolts of lightning, Buu's remaining three arms blurred through the air in a chaotic whirl, slapping the rounds away disdainfully until the last echo of gunfire died out into nothing but the distant shouts of panicked men as they tried desperately to form up.
A rattling of metal.
Pink electricity crackles off of every surface of the prototype Buu as he thrust one of his free hands downward with a grin, the limb elongating horribly as it punctured through the ground and tunneled in the direction of the fevered fingers that were working so furiously to reload a spent clip.
The Dante soldier likely never realized what was coming until it was too late. As the trembling boy slapped the magazine into the bottom of his assault rifle, as he tilted it to check that the magazine was clear, the monster's hand ripped out from the soil beneath his booted feet in a shower of broken rock and a boom that echoed louder than thunder. Fingers curled into a steel-hard fist rushed up towards his torso, electricity and raw power, enough to level a building, pouring through every pore. The soldier opened his mouth to scream. He never got the chance.
Buu waited for a few long, horrible seconds before retracting his arm. A wet thunk echoed loudly from the shadowed contents of the alley as his fingers came free, whizzing like a retracting tape measure through the hole buried in the ground and into the open air. His arm undulated like a snake, twisting, writhing, dripping blood. He sneered in distaste and flicked the remains from his hand. ?Ew.?
After cleaning himself off, Kid Buu turned his head to survey the shattered remains of the gate in the distance. Even from here the hole seemed huge. Blue specs like ants poured out from its center, threatening to overwhelm the Outcasts and spill over further into the streets. He scowled. Just what he needed: more blood on his pants.
The debt had been paid, but there was still more to be done. The battle waged on, and Super Buu, unless he was very much mistaken, had more kills than he did. The child would be damned if he was going to let that huge pink sword-wielding motherfucker outdo him again. Not now. Not when he and Seventeen had just squared up. Not when he finally had the chance to prove himself after all these years!
Never again would he be overlooked! Chance had chosen him for a reason. Chance had let him live for a reason!
The child's eyes were focused in intense concentration as his other two arms seemed to melt, to lose their definition, flowing into long, hand-tipped tentacles. In unison, all three limbs plunged through the ground like hunting sharks, carving through the earth and into the far distance. Towards the gate. The tiny azure specks that was the Dante formation scrambled in every direction as Buu's arms lunged out from underneath, lashing out with punches and energy blasts in a whirling dervish of flailing puttalin.
He would defend the fortress with his life, if for no other reason than to spite the universe.
Never again...
![[Image: Bellesig6-1.jpg]](http://i238.photobucket.com/albums/ff137/catseye543/Bellesig6-1.jpg)