Amidst the chaos, amidst the undeniable insanity of it all, a single soul had prevailed. He had the lives of a cat, despite being quite the opposite. He had spent half of Friend or Foe accompanying the group through thick and thin, avoiding every hurdle that Hell had sent their way, and yet he remained in tact, fully functionally, and significantly more healthy than the rest of their rag-tag group. His name was Champ, the quintessential quadruped … but he should have been named ‘Lucky’.
The dog shuffled through the firefight, animated with glee, and sought out the man who now lay deep in a crater under a layer of dirt; buried by the shower of debris coming from the ongoing combat. He wasn’t dead, nor was he even unconscious, just reeling from the shock of the fist-to-jaw dialogue that Balrog had offered him. Spitting up blood, he brushed a few pounds of Earth from his naked chest, and sat up.
He opened his eyes and was overwhelmed by the maelstrom that was taking place in Olde Town’s main drag. Only a minute had past since his fall but so much had happened already. A woman had transformed, guards had been felled, and Balrog still stood tall—mighty as ever. Not to mention the boy that was going through a rather unexpected revelation, and in moments would be reborn from the ashes of treachery.
Despite the multiple fronts of action or inaction, the dog carried on like a soldier in the war. It approached the Wizard and dropped something by his side. It licked the face of the man and grabbed his attention. “Ugh, whaddya wan—oh …” It seemed the dog had carried the scorpion appendage all the way from the water-processing plant. “Good boy.”
---
A few dozen feet away from the fighting pit, a giant of a man stood with his arms-crossed. He was observing the dog, his dog, tend to the man that had defeated him: Oliver Nash. Jackson Pride was a man of honor and combat. And yet, he chose inaction here. Why? Was he reconsidering his choice to fight alongside them, to assist the Wizard so that he’d get the opportunity to confront Kai Demolic himself? Maybe, maybe not. What he did know was that this fight was not his; and the emotions flying about didn’t help that.
Or could it be, that he was unprepared… unprepared to fight for something, someone besides himself? Now that sounded closer to the truth.
“Balrog…,” he muttered around, eyes locked on the Lieutenant, “…you too, are but a pawn in his game.”
---
The fight had been driven to levels unimaginable by the Super Saiyaness and the ebonic titan. Somehow, the girl had drawn upon some hidden strength and was now almost matching the beast, or at least that’s how it looked. While a few stared on in awe at the situation unfolding before them, including the girl’s transformation, not everyone understood quite what they were witnessing. Kaden was one of these individuals.
Piper and Kaden had been putting their combat companionship to work on half a dozen armed guards when the blonde courier caught the roaring aura of Zena in his peripherals (let alone his senses).When it hit him he wasn’t as much surprised at her power as he was by her bluff. Sure, he had heard the mythology of the SSJ, but had never seen it face-to-face… and was really expecting something else. Much grandeur surrounded this legend, after all. Though her power had doubled, it was something he had seen before, and so; he decided to give her a hand before she got herself killed. Even though she had invested a lot of emotion in this fight—a fact that she projected in bold letters—this was no time to try out a solo career.
“Hey, think you can handle these guys for a minute?” he asked of his comrade.
Piper raised an eyebrow, as she slammed an elbow into the face of a ki-totting villain, “is that a trick question?”
Kicking off from the gravel, he darted into the fray to lend a hand, or a boost—wherever it was needed…
---
The former detective leapt to his feet, recollecting himself before he analyzed the situation. After he stored the weapon in his waistband again, his eyes danced around what had now become a battlefield, until they fell upon Balrog and the saiyan assassin. ‘God damnit, which episode of the Twilight Zone are we on now?’ he queried, after sighting the golden glow emanating from the girl. It was like she was on fire, but instead of scorching her flesh it empowered her, as if it were the torch of her soul. He took a pace forward to join the scene, when he heard a subtle crack! It wasn’t bones, nor was it the dog. No, it sounded more like … glass?
His eyes went wide. The seeds!
Jackson had given him a brief explanation on their trip over. “Living weapons,” he had said of the Saibaman, “and ugly too.” Surely enough…
“Keeeeeeehhhh!” squealed the plant-based creature as it literally manifested itself from the Earth. The Wizard was taken in by the design; so much so that he lost whatever attention he had for the ongoing engagement. Green arms poked out of an apple-shaped blob, which soon produced a head and legs. It stared at him with demonic red eyes and razor-sharp fangs, “Gigigigigigi.”
“Ugh,” Oliver spat, staring at the newborn, “Disgusting.”
The dog barked at the creature, but the deafening explosion of an R.P.G. completely drowned out the noise. It hit the old man—boom!—right in the chest and sent him spinning horizontally into the grown. A guard had managed to catch him off guard, but quickly silenced by the furious kick of one Ashe Branford. There were attacks coming from all angles, after all, and from both sides.
She and the crystalline-haired girl were battling away guards. Emerald bursts from the gun pegged one thug heading to strike Zena from behind, square in the back. It made a mockery of his bulletproof armor, and came out the other side. Immediately, the girl was overcome by the sight; quite literally shaking in her boots. The death—it wasn’t stopping … it was everywhere. The body fell to the ground and the heat left it, leaving a cold corpse. ‘Cold.’ Sage thought, eyes wide and bloodshot. ‘So… cold.’
Oliver could hear the voice; it had been projected outward, and was familiar to him. ‘Sage?’ he asked, in the confines of his mind. One eye was shut—metal shrapnel sticking out of the thick of his eyebrow—but he managed to climb back to his knees, gazing across the battered canvas of Earth that separated him and the girl.
And then, quite suddenly … in the town square, in spite of the desert heat, there was snow.
---
Few noticed at first, the oddity that was the falling snow. Too many were engaged in heavy combat, their lives on the line and their hearts on their sleeves, to notice such a thing. But Jackson Pride did; and he was starting to realize something. There was something unorthodox about each and every one of these contestants; something amazingly unique. Kai had chosen them all for a reason. He had analyzed their faults, their advantages, their abilities, and their personalities; to set them up in ways that would draw the most phenomenal contrast in the history of televised characters. It was all playing out according to plan, and it was all just that: a game. How had his friend fallen so far? What had driven him to the extent of starting all of this?
“Damnit, Kai…” he spoke aloud, still only observing from the sideline, “was that what the war was to you too? Just another game?” He wondered to himself how far his friend would go to quell his needs to play a game. And that’s when it hit him: as if he had been facing on oncoming train and was only now feeling the impact. The detective was much smarter than he, which was why he was so shocked by his own discovery. How had Oliver missed it, or had he? Regardless, the possibility now troubled the giant more than anything else could…
Kai loved games; and loved to play games. Was it possible, that Kai had designed this all… to be a contestant? And if so, who—or what—was running his game?
More questions. Even less answers. He would have to continue with this group to get th—suddenly, his thoughts were cut off, as he heard a distinctive yelp from his four-legged sidekick. “Champ!” he roared, a name that was almost comedic to hear yelled with such ferocity. A guard had kicked the animal out of the way. And before the man could even gulp, a blast of energy ripped him in half. Jackson jumped into the battle, arms cocked and ready to unload.
That, of all things, had provoked him to join.
---
Sophia and Juno had joined Piper in fighting away guards, despite her preference to team with Kaden. The Aryan was busy, adding force to Zena’s blasts, while throwing in a trip or a bow of his own—when it felt appropriate. Balrog just wasn’t going down, though. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t feeling the wear and tear of the fight, though; and like a broken bag of milk, he was leaking blood slowly from all over. This golden goddess had presented an unexpected threat, and Kaden was a nuisance. He would have to bring himself up to full power to end this.
A crimson energy embraced him like a second skin, signifying his ascension to full power. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good for the pair. He looked angrily to Kaden, and threw him down with a sharp bolt of energy. Kaden grabbed his abdomen with a grunt of pain. “That stung,” he quipped at the approaching beast.
“I will crush you like an ant,” growled the ebonic plague of a man, whom had already killed one of their comrades.
Zena had meant to jump in. Unfortunately though, her dialogue with Balrog was cut off by an odd intervention from Ares, their own personal Judas. The whole situation was just getting more and more convoluted. Someone must have had some serious bowel problems to keep up this continual feed of shit that was hitting the fan. Piper, instead, left the group of people disarming and hammering the guards, to help her friend in need. Just in time too, as her ki-infused toe collided with the super-sized knee heading for Kaden’s sternum.
Balrog roared in annoyance as he threw a beam toward Piper, of which she dodged (luckily). He soon learned that this wasn’t a good team to mess with. Every fist he landed on Kaden earned him the sword-like penetration of Piper’s kick, while every choke hold on Piper left him with a smoking mark from a cerulean blast. They were too good, too synchronized. As if rehearsed.
Another show of his intelligence emerged with a, “WHY WON’T YOU JUST SIT AND DIE, YOU BITCH?!” But all that did was encourage them. Unfortunately, their taunt came to an abrupt halt as he exhaled a cone of energy that slammed into both fighters; sending them back at least twenty feet. Kaden flew fair, but Piper… she had been launched with such force that when she hit a guard, the mercenary collapsed: dead.
---
Oliver was only just catching wind of the betraying saiyan, whom betrayed not just Zena, but the other warriors assaulting Balrog. “Friend,” he had said to their collective enemy. This earned him the old man’s attention, taking it away from the occupied behemoth.
If Nash hated anything, it was a coward. And to backstab allies like this… well, that took the cake. Maybe he didn’t know the boy, but it was clear he had earned his party’s trust. Now, all he had was an imaginary bullseye, painted right on his forehead. Marking his target, he bent over and whispered commands into the ear of the grass-colored minion. He also told the creature a codeword, upon which it would act. The spawn giggled maniacally. It was an imp in the devil’s candy shop; and Oliver was giving him exactly what he wanted: pure entropy.
“Someone has to deliver judgement in this damned place…. SOMEONE has to make people like you answer for their crimes. And Hell, I ain’t saying I’m some Holyman, I’m far from that…”
There was a pause. Oliver Nash, the Wizard, licked his lips.
“But I’m all they’ve got.”
He started walking toward the young man, Ares, who was occupied with upsetting the balance of the Balrog Battle. Oliver drew from his waistband, the spiked limb of a beast long-dead. While his pace was slow, the same could not be said of his subject. The Saibaman’s legs were like that of the road-runner, and he zipped toward the long-haired traitor.
“Kekekeee!” chimed the bright green abomination as it threw a claw across the face of the miniature God of War. Ares cursed the creature, as blood trickled from his minor flesh wound. Angrily, he blasted the significantly weaker creature to the ground. He glared at the creature with a furrowed brow. It looked dead to him. And then, a pair of crimson orbs on its head snapped open. It jumped again, like some dire monkey... persistently presenting itself as the ultimate annoyance.
In this time, Oliver had turned his walk into a run. Heavy footsteps smashed the soil beneath his feat as he moved in an arc behind the Balrog-aligned mercenary, dragging the stinger behind him in the wind. Due to the scene’s chaotic nature, this went relatively unnoticed, but one saw it.
Piper had only just awoken from the impact of her unintentional collision. Kaden, having checked her pulse and saw her alright, was about to wake her up, when Balrog—the man beast—threw him a fresh knuckle to the jaw. Thankfully the sleeping warrioress hadn’t gotten his attention, as he was so focused on destroying the irritating courier. “Come ‘ere, pretty boy, I’ve worked up an appetite.” Balrog had taunted, practicing his best skill besides fighting: fear mongering.
When Piper came to, her first sight was not Kaden, but the white-haired man. He was moving, and fast, toward the boy who had betrayed them. In his hand … a weapon. “No.” She thought out loud, a show of conscious. Enough had bled today; too many left for dead in the streets of Olde Town. Killing the boy wouldn’t solve anything. She had to stop this Wizard, before it was too late. With unimaginable strength, the vaulted her lithe frame toward the bulky senior, arms out to tackle to him the ground. And she would have too, but instead she walked—smack!—into a wall. A wall? Where in the hell had a wall come from?
The answer presented itself, as she took a pace backwards to re-adjust herself. Out from the Wizard’s back, a wall of many (too many to count) flat, two-dimensional, white barriers presented itself. They had manifested within a second, unconsciously, and unnoticed by their source of energy: Oliver Nash.
Meanwhile, the Saiba-… thing had taken to green orbs of ki now, throwing them at the boy like a rapidfire machinegun. Ares, wanting to finish off the peon creature, lunged for him, but this time the imp wouldn’t be taken out so easily. It jumped, using the incoming arm as leverage to throw itself into the face of its opponent. Arms and legs out, it wrapped around the upper torso of the mercenary,
Frustrated, Piper charged this wall with ki-infused fists, but was pushed back again, by this miraculous defense; and this time, it was too late. He was already at his destination.
Oliver, eyes dead set on the guilty, swept up behind the occupied (and equally annoyed) humanoid. Saiba-wrapped and completely distracted, he was unprepared for what came next. A flash of rust colored something cut out across the distance between them, as the barb of the scorpion’s tail was driven hard into Ares’s lower back.
Hoping the poison from the stinger was now coursing through Ares’s bloodstream, he leaned forward to whisper in the coward’s ear the code word.
“…justice…”
Abruptly, the green warrior that was clamped to the saiyan, exploded in his face. Oliver was blown back, landing far away, as Olde Town filled with the smoke of fire once more.
Would Justice be done?
That would be left to the fates.
The dog shuffled through the firefight, animated with glee, and sought out the man who now lay deep in a crater under a layer of dirt; buried by the shower of debris coming from the ongoing combat. He wasn’t dead, nor was he even unconscious, just reeling from the shock of the fist-to-jaw dialogue that Balrog had offered him. Spitting up blood, he brushed a few pounds of Earth from his naked chest, and sat up.
He opened his eyes and was overwhelmed by the maelstrom that was taking place in Olde Town’s main drag. Only a minute had past since his fall but so much had happened already. A woman had transformed, guards had been felled, and Balrog still stood tall—mighty as ever. Not to mention the boy that was going through a rather unexpected revelation, and in moments would be reborn from the ashes of treachery.
Despite the multiple fronts of action or inaction, the dog carried on like a soldier in the war. It approached the Wizard and dropped something by his side. It licked the face of the man and grabbed his attention. “Ugh, whaddya wan—oh …” It seemed the dog had carried the scorpion appendage all the way from the water-processing plant. “Good boy.”
---
A few dozen feet away from the fighting pit, a giant of a man stood with his arms-crossed. He was observing the dog, his dog, tend to the man that had defeated him: Oliver Nash. Jackson Pride was a man of honor and combat. And yet, he chose inaction here. Why? Was he reconsidering his choice to fight alongside them, to assist the Wizard so that he’d get the opportunity to confront Kai Demolic himself? Maybe, maybe not. What he did know was that this fight was not his; and the emotions flying about didn’t help that.
Or could it be, that he was unprepared… unprepared to fight for something, someone besides himself? Now that sounded closer to the truth.
“Balrog…,” he muttered around, eyes locked on the Lieutenant, “…you too, are but a pawn in his game.”
---
The fight had been driven to levels unimaginable by the Super Saiyaness and the ebonic titan. Somehow, the girl had drawn upon some hidden strength and was now almost matching the beast, or at least that’s how it looked. While a few stared on in awe at the situation unfolding before them, including the girl’s transformation, not everyone understood quite what they were witnessing. Kaden was one of these individuals.
Piper and Kaden had been putting their combat companionship to work on half a dozen armed guards when the blonde courier caught the roaring aura of Zena in his peripherals (let alone his senses).When it hit him he wasn’t as much surprised at her power as he was by her bluff. Sure, he had heard the mythology of the SSJ, but had never seen it face-to-face… and was really expecting something else. Much grandeur surrounded this legend, after all. Though her power had doubled, it was something he had seen before, and so; he decided to give her a hand before she got herself killed. Even though she had invested a lot of emotion in this fight—a fact that she projected in bold letters—this was no time to try out a solo career.
“Hey, think you can handle these guys for a minute?” he asked of his comrade.
Piper raised an eyebrow, as she slammed an elbow into the face of a ki-totting villain, “is that a trick question?”
Kicking off from the gravel, he darted into the fray to lend a hand, or a boost—wherever it was needed…
---
The former detective leapt to his feet, recollecting himself before he analyzed the situation. After he stored the weapon in his waistband again, his eyes danced around what had now become a battlefield, until they fell upon Balrog and the saiyan assassin. ‘God damnit, which episode of the Twilight Zone are we on now?’ he queried, after sighting the golden glow emanating from the girl. It was like she was on fire, but instead of scorching her flesh it empowered her, as if it were the torch of her soul. He took a pace forward to join the scene, when he heard a subtle crack! It wasn’t bones, nor was it the dog. No, it sounded more like … glass?
His eyes went wide. The seeds!
Jackson had given him a brief explanation on their trip over. “Living weapons,” he had said of the Saibaman, “and ugly too.” Surely enough…
“Keeeeeeehhhh!” squealed the plant-based creature as it literally manifested itself from the Earth. The Wizard was taken in by the design; so much so that he lost whatever attention he had for the ongoing engagement. Green arms poked out of an apple-shaped blob, which soon produced a head and legs. It stared at him with demonic red eyes and razor-sharp fangs, “Gigigigigigi.”
“Ugh,” Oliver spat, staring at the newborn, “Disgusting.”
The dog barked at the creature, but the deafening explosion of an R.P.G. completely drowned out the noise. It hit the old man—boom!—right in the chest and sent him spinning horizontally into the grown. A guard had managed to catch him off guard, but quickly silenced by the furious kick of one Ashe Branford. There were attacks coming from all angles, after all, and from both sides.
She and the crystalline-haired girl were battling away guards. Emerald bursts from the gun pegged one thug heading to strike Zena from behind, square in the back. It made a mockery of his bulletproof armor, and came out the other side. Immediately, the girl was overcome by the sight; quite literally shaking in her boots. The death—it wasn’t stopping … it was everywhere. The body fell to the ground and the heat left it, leaving a cold corpse. ‘Cold.’ Sage thought, eyes wide and bloodshot. ‘So… cold.’
Oliver could hear the voice; it had been projected outward, and was familiar to him. ‘Sage?’ he asked, in the confines of his mind. One eye was shut—metal shrapnel sticking out of the thick of his eyebrow—but he managed to climb back to his knees, gazing across the battered canvas of Earth that separated him and the girl.
And then, quite suddenly … in the town square, in spite of the desert heat, there was snow.
---
Few noticed at first, the oddity that was the falling snow. Too many were engaged in heavy combat, their lives on the line and their hearts on their sleeves, to notice such a thing. But Jackson Pride did; and he was starting to realize something. There was something unorthodox about each and every one of these contestants; something amazingly unique. Kai had chosen them all for a reason. He had analyzed their faults, their advantages, their abilities, and their personalities; to set them up in ways that would draw the most phenomenal contrast in the history of televised characters. It was all playing out according to plan, and it was all just that: a game. How had his friend fallen so far? What had driven him to the extent of starting all of this?
“Damnit, Kai…” he spoke aloud, still only observing from the sideline, “was that what the war was to you too? Just another game?” He wondered to himself how far his friend would go to quell his needs to play a game. And that’s when it hit him: as if he had been facing on oncoming train and was only now feeling the impact. The detective was much smarter than he, which was why he was so shocked by his own discovery. How had Oliver missed it, or had he? Regardless, the possibility now troubled the giant more than anything else could…
Kai loved games; and loved to play games. Was it possible, that Kai had designed this all… to be a contestant? And if so, who—or what—was running his game?
More questions. Even less answers. He would have to continue with this group to get th—suddenly, his thoughts were cut off, as he heard a distinctive yelp from his four-legged sidekick. “Champ!” he roared, a name that was almost comedic to hear yelled with such ferocity. A guard had kicked the animal out of the way. And before the man could even gulp, a blast of energy ripped him in half. Jackson jumped into the battle, arms cocked and ready to unload.
That, of all things, had provoked him to join.
---
Sophia and Juno had joined Piper in fighting away guards, despite her preference to team with Kaden. The Aryan was busy, adding force to Zena’s blasts, while throwing in a trip or a bow of his own—when it felt appropriate. Balrog just wasn’t going down, though. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t feeling the wear and tear of the fight, though; and like a broken bag of milk, he was leaking blood slowly from all over. This golden goddess had presented an unexpected threat, and Kaden was a nuisance. He would have to bring himself up to full power to end this.
A crimson energy embraced him like a second skin, signifying his ascension to full power. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good for the pair. He looked angrily to Kaden, and threw him down with a sharp bolt of energy. Kaden grabbed his abdomen with a grunt of pain. “That stung,” he quipped at the approaching beast.
“I will crush you like an ant,” growled the ebonic plague of a man, whom had already killed one of their comrades.
Zena had meant to jump in. Unfortunately though, her dialogue with Balrog was cut off by an odd intervention from Ares, their own personal Judas. The whole situation was just getting more and more convoluted. Someone must have had some serious bowel problems to keep up this continual feed of shit that was hitting the fan. Piper, instead, left the group of people disarming and hammering the guards, to help her friend in need. Just in time too, as her ki-infused toe collided with the super-sized knee heading for Kaden’s sternum.
Balrog roared in annoyance as he threw a beam toward Piper, of which she dodged (luckily). He soon learned that this wasn’t a good team to mess with. Every fist he landed on Kaden earned him the sword-like penetration of Piper’s kick, while every choke hold on Piper left him with a smoking mark from a cerulean blast. They were too good, too synchronized. As if rehearsed.
Another show of his intelligence emerged with a, “WHY WON’T YOU JUST SIT AND DIE, YOU BITCH?!” But all that did was encourage them. Unfortunately, their taunt came to an abrupt halt as he exhaled a cone of energy that slammed into both fighters; sending them back at least twenty feet. Kaden flew fair, but Piper… she had been launched with such force that when she hit a guard, the mercenary collapsed: dead.
---
Oliver was only just catching wind of the betraying saiyan, whom betrayed not just Zena, but the other warriors assaulting Balrog. “Friend,” he had said to their collective enemy. This earned him the old man’s attention, taking it away from the occupied behemoth.
If Nash hated anything, it was a coward. And to backstab allies like this… well, that took the cake. Maybe he didn’t know the boy, but it was clear he had earned his party’s trust. Now, all he had was an imaginary bullseye, painted right on his forehead. Marking his target, he bent over and whispered commands into the ear of the grass-colored minion. He also told the creature a codeword, upon which it would act. The spawn giggled maniacally. It was an imp in the devil’s candy shop; and Oliver was giving him exactly what he wanted: pure entropy.
“Someone has to deliver judgement in this damned place…. SOMEONE has to make people like you answer for their crimes. And Hell, I ain’t saying I’m some Holyman, I’m far from that…”
There was a pause. Oliver Nash, the Wizard, licked his lips.
“But I’m all they’ve got.”
He started walking toward the young man, Ares, who was occupied with upsetting the balance of the Balrog Battle. Oliver drew from his waistband, the spiked limb of a beast long-dead. While his pace was slow, the same could not be said of his subject. The Saibaman’s legs were like that of the road-runner, and he zipped toward the long-haired traitor.
“Kekekeee!” chimed the bright green abomination as it threw a claw across the face of the miniature God of War. Ares cursed the creature, as blood trickled from his minor flesh wound. Angrily, he blasted the significantly weaker creature to the ground. He glared at the creature with a furrowed brow. It looked dead to him. And then, a pair of crimson orbs on its head snapped open. It jumped again, like some dire monkey... persistently presenting itself as the ultimate annoyance.
In this time, Oliver had turned his walk into a run. Heavy footsteps smashed the soil beneath his feat as he moved in an arc behind the Balrog-aligned mercenary, dragging the stinger behind him in the wind. Due to the scene’s chaotic nature, this went relatively unnoticed, but one saw it.
Piper had only just awoken from the impact of her unintentional collision. Kaden, having checked her pulse and saw her alright, was about to wake her up, when Balrog—the man beast—threw him a fresh knuckle to the jaw. Thankfully the sleeping warrioress hadn’t gotten his attention, as he was so focused on destroying the irritating courier. “Come ‘ere, pretty boy, I’ve worked up an appetite.” Balrog had taunted, practicing his best skill besides fighting: fear mongering.
When Piper came to, her first sight was not Kaden, but the white-haired man. He was moving, and fast, toward the boy who had betrayed them. In his hand … a weapon. “No.” She thought out loud, a show of conscious. Enough had bled today; too many left for dead in the streets of Olde Town. Killing the boy wouldn’t solve anything. She had to stop this Wizard, before it was too late. With unimaginable strength, the vaulted her lithe frame toward the bulky senior, arms out to tackle to him the ground. And she would have too, but instead she walked—smack!—into a wall. A wall? Where in the hell had a wall come from?
The answer presented itself, as she took a pace backwards to re-adjust herself. Out from the Wizard’s back, a wall of many (too many to count) flat, two-dimensional, white barriers presented itself. They had manifested within a second, unconsciously, and unnoticed by their source of energy: Oliver Nash.
Meanwhile, the Saiba-… thing had taken to green orbs of ki now, throwing them at the boy like a rapidfire machinegun. Ares, wanting to finish off the peon creature, lunged for him, but this time the imp wouldn’t be taken out so easily. It jumped, using the incoming arm as leverage to throw itself into the face of its opponent. Arms and legs out, it wrapped around the upper torso of the mercenary,
Frustrated, Piper charged this wall with ki-infused fists, but was pushed back again, by this miraculous defense; and this time, it was too late. He was already at his destination.
Oliver, eyes dead set on the guilty, swept up behind the occupied (and equally annoyed) humanoid. Saiba-wrapped and completely distracted, he was unprepared for what came next. A flash of rust colored something cut out across the distance between them, as the barb of the scorpion’s tail was driven hard into Ares’s lower back.
Hoping the poison from the stinger was now coursing through Ares’s bloodstream, he leaned forward to whisper in the coward’s ear the code word.
“…justice…”
Abruptly, the green warrior that was clamped to the saiyan, exploded in his face. Oliver was blown back, landing far away, as Olde Town filled with the smoke of fire once more.
Would Justice be done?
That would be left to the fates.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
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