06-11-2007, 03:37 AM
Leave yourself open for one second, and look what happens.
Bardock pulled off his boot, which hadn?t done a spectacular job of stopping the flail?s spikes. The fighter?s foot was bleeding freely, and he would have to keep pressure on to prevent poor circulation. None of the tendons had torn, so his leg would still be very useful.
Oh well. The battle was still an adrenaline rush, the best high in the world. He?d been cool, calm, and methodical. You see somebody, you go straight for the throat.
Another bottle of alcohol down?
He was running out, too. Only a couple left. Bardock popped the top and poured some over his ankle, sucking up the pain, and then wrapped it generously in bandages. He stood up and gingerly tested out his mobility. It wasn?t great, but it wasn?t bad. The wound opened further, and the bandages quickly became soaked in blood. Just keeping pressure on wasn?t going to be enough. He hunkered back down and removed the gauze, finally focusing ki into the palm of his hand. With the delicacy of a surgeon, he traced his blazing hot fingers along the wound, being careful not to cause more damage. His face twitched and he ground his teeth together, the smell of cooked flesh pervading his nostrils.
Whatever it took to survive.
He stood again and tested it out. Much better. He wasn?t at full mobility, but it was better than none at all. He?d managed to keep light on his feet after he was injured in the battle. Slipping his boot back on, the saiyan took stock of the aftermath.
The android?whom he?d seen before?was long since gone.
?Crazy bastard,? Bardock scoffed. Something wasn?t quite right with his head.
Bar knelt by Cargo?s body, retrieving the flail. Nice little melee weapon to add to his collection. He belted it on the opposite side of his now holstered pistol. Then he noticed something else. ?Hey, I know that box.?
His former group had picked it up off of some stupid little midget, and then Prince Vegeta had claimed it for himself. Guess it was these two rag-tag clowns that had offed him. It was like the box itself had a will for survival, all the while bringing bad luck to its owners.
?Not for me,? the fighter smirked. He ignited his hand and set it on fire, watching as the cardboard peeled and withered into a smoldering pile of ash. The deed was done. He killed the box.
The box was dead.
All that was left was the ritual. Bardock removed his bandana, wiped away some green namekian blood (careful not to get any brains on it), and then wrapped it around his forehead. He touched a finger to his temple and signed off to Cargo.
?At least you died with some pride,? he said to the headless green fighter.
The saiya-jin retrieved his GPS and turned it back on. The android was long since gone.
?Tch. Coward.?
His brow furrowed. Aside from one dot apart from himself, everyone else was paired up. That might prove difficult.
At an even slower pace than before, Bardock set off, still in search of food.
OOC: Taking the flail, torched the box.
Bardock pulled off his boot, which hadn?t done a spectacular job of stopping the flail?s spikes. The fighter?s foot was bleeding freely, and he would have to keep pressure on to prevent poor circulation. None of the tendons had torn, so his leg would still be very useful.
Oh well. The battle was still an adrenaline rush, the best high in the world. He?d been cool, calm, and methodical. You see somebody, you go straight for the throat.
Another bottle of alcohol down?
He was running out, too. Only a couple left. Bardock popped the top and poured some over his ankle, sucking up the pain, and then wrapped it generously in bandages. He stood up and gingerly tested out his mobility. It wasn?t great, but it wasn?t bad. The wound opened further, and the bandages quickly became soaked in blood. Just keeping pressure on wasn?t going to be enough. He hunkered back down and removed the gauze, finally focusing ki into the palm of his hand. With the delicacy of a surgeon, he traced his blazing hot fingers along the wound, being careful not to cause more damage. His face twitched and he ground his teeth together, the smell of cooked flesh pervading his nostrils.
Whatever it took to survive.
He stood again and tested it out. Much better. He wasn?t at full mobility, but it was better than none at all. He?d managed to keep light on his feet after he was injured in the battle. Slipping his boot back on, the saiyan took stock of the aftermath.
The android?whom he?d seen before?was long since gone.
?Crazy bastard,? Bardock scoffed. Something wasn?t quite right with his head.
Bar knelt by Cargo?s body, retrieving the flail. Nice little melee weapon to add to his collection. He belted it on the opposite side of his now holstered pistol. Then he noticed something else. ?Hey, I know that box.?
His former group had picked it up off of some stupid little midget, and then Prince Vegeta had claimed it for himself. Guess it was these two rag-tag clowns that had offed him. It was like the box itself had a will for survival, all the while bringing bad luck to its owners.
?Not for me,? the fighter smirked. He ignited his hand and set it on fire, watching as the cardboard peeled and withered into a smoldering pile of ash. The deed was done. He killed the box.
The box was dead.
All that was left was the ritual. Bardock removed his bandana, wiped away some green namekian blood (careful not to get any brains on it), and then wrapped it around his forehead. He touched a finger to his temple and signed off to Cargo.
?At least you died with some pride,? he said to the headless green fighter.
The saiya-jin retrieved his GPS and turned it back on. The android was long since gone.
?Tch. Coward.?
His brow furrowed. Aside from one dot apart from himself, everyone else was paired up. That might prove difficult.
At an even slower pace than before, Bardock set off, still in search of food.
OOC: Taking the flail, torched the box.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
_=Pass you by, it's all in this life you have
Pass you by, good-bye to you=_
Pass you by, good-bye to you=_