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 Posted: Tue May 28, 2013 11:16 pm
Buddingtonite was on the prowl for energy to collect when he caught sight of a familiar fellow, and immediately, he knew who his target would be this evening. Yes, he recognized that face from anywhere, and while he was certain that the young man he was stalking hadn't seen him, nor would he recognize him, he would make sure that his draining would be exceptionally painful for him.
That man, Alois Scholz, was the same man that he had encountered at the dog park, along with his over hyper German Shepard. He nearly got into a fight with him, twice, and had offered him some drinks to appease that rowdy nature of his. But, just because Richard Moreau was willing to buy someone drinks, it didn't meant that he would completely forgive a pass transgression. And Captain Buddingtonite was going to make sure that this man paid his dues, and maybe, if he was lucky, pull him over to the winning team.
So there, Buddingtonite patiently waited on the roof top of the bar, across the street from the same bar that he had taken him all those weeks ago. The Busted Knuckle was one of the few places that didn't card their patrons so long as they could pay, and it seemed that Alois at least learned enough from Richard to know exactly where to go for his alcohol buzz. It was something...
"Finish your drink and stumble out already," Buddingtonite said below his breath, growing impatient. "What if I wanted to do other things tonight? I don't have all night, you know..."Strickenized I hope this is a good enough start?
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Posted: Wed May 29, 2013 8:23 am
His life had been woefully bereft of alcohol until Richard came into the picture.
Until Richard showed him the darker side of Destiny City, the one with little regard for laws and customs. The one with little regard for his inability to obtain a fake ID. The one with little regard for his life. Alois found solace in this place, in this hole-in-the-wall establishment with surprisingly good offerings. It bore a sliver of home for him, in the form of recognizable brews and an atmosphere that crossed cultural lines. Here, as with anywhere, alcohol fueled good times and bar fights. What more could he ask for?
Well, maybe someone to take home that night, but he wouldn't get his hopes up.
He visited the bar that night in a quiet celebration. A private one. He'd received a promotion, and even if he couldn't share the details with the other inebriated, vociferous patrons, they still understood the connotations of the vague phrase "I got promoted". So with them, these strangers, he shared the excitement and accompanying nervousness. They swapped stories with him of their own business endeavors, failures, stellar successes. They welcomed him as one of their own, as one of the regulars to The Busted Knuckle, despite his foreign accent and appearance.
For once, he could almost say he liked mankind. At least, when alcohol was involved. Then again, that could simply be the short buzz of the beer, working away his typically prickly disposition and loosening him up in the presence of company. He wasn't going to spend his night, his celebratory night, reflecting on such nonsense.
When his company degenerated into petty insults and fiery tempers, he understood it was time to leave. He set aside his half-finished plate of a botched sandwich and fries, and paid his dues. He felt fine; a couple beers mixed with food didn't affect him much. Maybe he'd burn up a little more of his evening enjoying his new promotion... Or maybe he'd head straight home and sleep. The choice was his, and it felt good.
Alois exited the seedy establishment and headed straight for the alleyway across the street. He paused at the entrance and fished around in his pocket for the familiar lacquer of the battered box. Sure enough, he opened it from feel alone, and withdrew a single cigarette. No matter where he went that evening, it warranted a smoke. He was about to light up when movement registered in his peripheral vision.
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Posted: Fri May 31, 2013 2:04 am
Perhaps he needed to work on his patience as well as his stealth after all, as he suspected that Alois had spotted him by the way he moved his head towards his general direction. That, or Alois was paranoid and alert of his surroundings, and rightfully so. After all, in this occasion, there was someone out to get Alois: himself!
Feeling that there was little need to beat around the bush as it might have only served to agitate the young man and thus make a bigger scene than Buddingtonite was willing to perform for, he made his approach in typical Buddingtonite fashion. With flair and style. "Good eye, friend. Though I suppose it is rather hard to miss me, given such eye popping details."
With a wave of his hand, he was referring to the roses and thorns on his attire, and he was hoping that Alois would have been distracted long enough for him to summon his boomerang and give it a throw. He wasn't going for the kill, but he certainly wanted to make sure that he felt the sting, the first of many in his quest for revenge. "A moment of your time, please? Engarde!"
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Posted: Fri May 31, 2013 9:03 am
The redheaded man approached from the mouth of the alley, carrying himself in a way that even peacocks would envy. His words lent credence to Alois' conclusion; this interesting character thought terribly highly of himself, which meant that his self-evaluation had an astronomically long distance to fall. Perhaps he should give it a little push.
Alois stared at the man, cigarette still caught between his lips at a slightly downward-tilted angle. His outfit bore a smattering of rose-themed adornments, which offset its militaristic style. Curiously it reminded him of the uniforms for his home country, especially from its darker years of service. Was this some kind of sick joke? Was he some brainless twit who paraded around as a mock Nationalsozialistischer Führungsoffizier? Didn't he know those times ceased to exist long ago? Certainly if he wanted to offend someone, he'd have better luck hurling insults than sporting attire that harkened back to the 1940s.
"What ze ******** do you need my ti- autsch!" He voiced a strangled cry of pain when the captain's boomerang stuck him precariously close to his right eye. Hesitant to open it, he covered the wounded area in the palm of his hand and groaned. His instincts discovered it long before he chose to recognize it - his assailant is a Negaverse officer. The boomerang to the face proved it.
Alois couldn't tell if the man was a lieutenant or a captain, but given his weapon, Alois figured he couldn't possibly be a general. No self-respecting, top-tier agent would resort to a wooden boomerang for combat, and he hadn't met many captains, so he couldn't make a judgment between the two. Still, the lanky misanthrope had two options here: he could continue to form extrapolations based on his assailant's choice of uniform and weapon, or he could retire his current persona and leave matters to Bischofite.
He chose the latter.
After a short transformation, he approached the currently nameless captain with malicious purpose. As soon as he closed the distance between them, he began his scathing reprimand. "What ze hell is wrong wis' you, captain?" He finished his rhetorical question with an attempted backhand to the cocky man's face. "Do you always wander around attacking civilians, or in zis case, your fellow ******** officers?"
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Posted: Mon Jun 03, 2013 1:05 pm
Despite strict orders not to engage civilians, Buddingtonite couldn't help but give a triumphant laugh when his boomerang hit its mark. From there, it ricocheted off the wall and though he had to jump to catch it, it rested tenderly in his gloved hand once more. It felt great that not only did he get the hit on Alois, but that his skills with his boomerang appeared to be improving. Or he got lucky. Either way, Buddingtonite was grinning ear to ear with satisfaction by the time he realized his mistake.
Not in attacking a civilian that ruffled his feathers weeks ago, but that the civilian he attacked was a Negaverse officer in disguise! His smile was short lived and his jaw dropped, and though he rose his hands in surrender, it wasn't enough to stop the backhand that sent him tumbling backwards and over discarded trash. He barely caught his balance but it brought him to where he was on one knee and barely propping himself up, and he took in the man's ridicule as he prepared to defend himself.
Verbally, at least. There was no amount of bravado that could have stopped the surprise from spewing from his mouth, as he tried to explain himself. Might have made him appear spineless, but when it came to the possibility of preventing a beatdown, what use did he have for his pride? "How was I to know that you were already an officer, officer? You don't necessarily carry yourself like one, and besides, I was hoping to already convert you but it seems I was a little late on that."
He gave him another look over, both his physical state and his aura, then added in, "Very late."
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Posted: Thu Jun 06, 2013 10:39 am
Now that his assailant sat in a heap of garbage and the encounter lay in his favor, Bischofite approached with his hands on the backs of his hips, and halted just before the captain's sprawled-out feet. He bent over, setting his sights at eye level with the other man's. Bischofite smirked while he stared almost flirtatiously into the captain's eyes.
Despite the comments that he didn't carry himself like an officer would, Bischofite found flattery in his assailant's words. "You were very late indeed. Now, my boy, tell me what your names are before I show you what your starseed looks like." As he spoke, he ran a finger up the captain's throat and tapped it on his chin. "Afterward, maybe we'll haf' a little duel of sorts to cool off zat bad blood, eh?" Since the captain hit him in the face, he figured the man bore a grudge toward him for some instance or another, and since he'd never seen this captain before, he assumed it to be a civilian encounter. And Bischofite, or more specifically: Alois, had a plethora of enemies made from mischievous deeds.
Bischofite backed up slowly and summoned his weapons while he extended his arms outward. Two gleaming, albeit dull, chakrams appeared in his grasp, with one sporting a long strand of beads punctuated with feathers. "I daresay my weapons are a little more intimidating zan zat little boomerang, captain. If you like, I can hit you in ze face wis' zem too, and we can sport matching injuries, eh?" He grinned darkly.
He hesitated momentarily. He wanted this duel to be more than just a duel - it had to bear some meaning to the two of them. Perhaps something should be at stake to spur them into action? "Let's make it a bet - if I win, you forfeit all ze energy you gazzered lately." Bischofite abhorred their new quota - he'd much rather hunt and kill without mercy than take the time to drain energy and grace his targets with unconsciousness. What fun was it if the victim wasn't staring in horror at him while he reaped their starseed? "And if you win... Well, you can name your prize. Just make it interesting." He winked at the officer playfully.
It was time for some fun.
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Posted: Fri Jun 07, 2013 1:01 pm
It was an honest mistake, yet this Captain seemed to be taking it much too far. Of course, if the situations were reversed, Buddingtonite was certain that he'd be reacting the same, if not similar, fashion, but that still didn't excuse the bloodthirsty look in his eyes nor his behavior. Buddingtonite wanted to shirk at the threat, but he forced himself to appear calm, and he played it off with a shrug as he straightened his attire and took a step forward, not back, to avoid Bischofite's touch. "Keep talking like that to your allies and you'll never make any friends here. I am Captain Buddingtonite of the Infiltration branch. And I refuse to give you that other name until we're in a more secluded area... unlike some ruffians, I have a job and reputation to keep up and I cannot afford the risk of someone overhearing us."
That last bit was true. He was content to give this one his name, his real name, but only when he was certain that there was no one around. It was already bad enough he brought attention to this at the carnival and poor Hafwen was likely trying to put two and two together. He kept that bit of turmoil to himself, though Bischofite's proposal and his display of weapons certainly didn't help matters in the least. He made a mistake in attacking this man, but he didn't show his panic just yet. He still had an ace or two up his sleeves. "Point taken, Captain," Buddingtonite said, conceding when he looked at his chakrams, knowing that he did NOT want those around his pretty little face anytime soon. Try explaining that to customers the next day...
Now, Buddingtonite was a betting man, and he could do nothing to hide his enthusiasm when Bischofite brought that to the table. He turned to face him completely, considering his offer and scratching his chin in thought. He loved betting, but he hated to lose... and he was certain that, in a fair fight, Bischofite would wipe the floor with him, and probably take it a little farther. All for some measly energy? If Buddingtonite was going to risk getting into a spar with someone who, in his civilian form, was already unstable, then the rewards had to be high.
"First, tell me long you mean when you say lately. Is it today? Yesterday? A week? This is very important because not all the energy I gather is for myself and I would hate to have to risk his investment, especially when I'll need his services to patch me up after this," Buddingtonite said, crossing his arms and turning on his business man persona, if only to keep a lid on his own enthusiasm. Didn't want Bischofite to think him a genuine threat or a murderous b*****d, after all. "Second, not here. Somewhere away from prying eyes and ears. Again, need I remind you that I have a reputation, both in the Negaverse and real life, to worry about?"
He was surprised that Bischofite didn't suspect who he was from the get go. The whole glamor thing, a marvelous way of hiding... which brought him to his third point. "Third, and last, if I win? I do not offer you my civilian identity, for starters, and you allow me to see your starseed. I won't pluck it, or break it, but merely allow me to have a peak. Maybe even caress it, depending on how many energy to decide to take. Sound good?"
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Posted: Sat Jun 08, 2013 3:32 pm
Bischofite conceded to the other man with a nod of his head. "Zat is a reasonable request. Besides, I'd hate for someone to come around and spoil our fun." The possibility of identity leaks aside, this arranged fight was for sport and excitement, not a legitimate battle for their lives. if someone stepped in and upset the balance, what would happen to their wagers? What would happen to themselves? All kinds of unusual individuals frequented these parts, and their interruption may prove catastrophic, especially if it was a senshi who stepped into the fray.
"Follow me, and I'll explain on ze way. I know a grand spot for zese little tussles." After flashing another conniving grin, he beckoned for Buddingtonite to follow. The path to his aforementioned spot was short, but laden with obstacles. If anything it made an excellent parkour training ground. "Try not to fall too far behind, or I'll assume I won already. I don't sink you want that, captain." The thought of fulfilling his quota without even trying tantalized him.
Without waiting for a response, Bischofite began the trek to his ideal training ground via jumping over a chain link fence and setting off down a darkened alley. Only a smattering of candles and lanterns lit the path, barely illuminating obstacles such as sleeping bodies and stacks of boxes. He leapt over several upturned trash cans, skirted their debris to avoid making much noise, and darted through a hole in another fence which led to a construction area.
Many different construction vehicles sat abandoned, all facing a particularly large hole in the concrete. Within it was yet another hole, set in the side of an exceedingly large corrugated pipe. Bischofite slipped into the blackened hole without a second thought and felt his way along its dark expanse, an incredibly long journey, until moonlight shone through a hole at a different location. He jumped through its opening into a similar-looking area, which upon closer inspection, revealed a man-made injury to the pipe. He didn't bother to elaborate on its appearance; he simply waited with one hand on his hip while the other captain caught up. Surely Buddingtonite would want to take his time through that dim passageway; he had no idea what might be lurking around in that darkness.
"Captain!" Bischofite called, into the exploded hole. "I want you to see how perfekt zis area is for skirmishes." He stood back for the other man to climb out safely, and looked around the place to remind himself of why he chose such a remote location.
This area of town obviously suffered disaster, though he didn't know what caused it. Many of the buildings surrounding them sat abandoned and hollow, almost haunting in their corroded appearances. Even the grass that grew along the expanses of dirt appeared dead or dying; it appeared as if a plague swept the area and left it in a crippled state. A plethora of chain link fences stood blocking off invisible paths, each adorned with signs displaying 'KEEP OUT' in faded bold lettering. Sometimes those fences even sported rust. Sometimes they were just flanked by abandoned construction debris and a lack of maintenance.
BIschofite found that the uneven landscape and variety of surfaces provided an interesting challenge. Perhaps Buddingtonite would come to the same conclusion, though he did not know the man well enough to assume they saw eye-to-eye. "Alright!" He began, holding his chakrams high above his head, in a mock cheer. "Captain Buddingtonite, we set ze stakes already. If I win, you fill my quota wis' whatever energy you haf'. If it's not enough, sans the energy you're stockpiling for your little friend, zen you'll simply collect for me as well. And if you win... You get to look at my starseed and keep your identity a secret." Though, a promised look at his starseed gave him the inclination to lose. "Now - are you ready?"
Even though they'd just met, Bischofite was really beginning to like this man.
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Posted: Tue Jun 11, 2013 12:43 pm
To Bischofite, this might have just been a friendly spar, but to Buddingtonite, it might as well have been a fight to the death. Dull as his chakrams may be, this seemed like a fellow that could have taken the fight a little too far and Buddingtonite wasn't looking forward to a possible hospital visit anytime soon. "Coming," said Buddingtonite in a sing-song tone in hopes of hiding his distress as he followed the other captain through the obstacle course.
He purposefully kept some distance from him, not just for his own safety though. He kept his hand in his coat while he used the other to grab various objects and the wall for balance, looking as though he were mocking the great Napoleon Bonaparte, all the while concealing his crystal shard from Bischofite's prying eyes. He wasn't going to kid himself. There was no way he could defeat this captain on his own and without resorting to some dirty handed tactic, and it wasn't just the notion of losing the energy he worked hard to gather for himself and Amethyst. It was his pride at stake, and if there was one thing that Buddingtonite loved more than playing the game, it was winning it. And he was determined to be the victor here tonight, in one manner of another.
What use did he have of honor? At one point in the trip, he bent over and looked to be gasping for air, and he rose a hand to his opponent as though to say 'hold on, let me catch my breath'. What he was actually doing was whispering into his crystal, his words sharp and breathless to the person on the other end. "Get over here, immediately. Require assistance... will pay you handsomely for it!"
Before Bischofite could grow suspicious, he straightened up and ran after him, passing through the area and only now really taking in its appearance. All of these holes were starting to annoy the captain, but he had to admit that Bischofite was absolutely correct to say that this looked like the perfect place for a skirmish. He pulled himself through the hole and gave the place a look around, and he gave an impressed whistle. "Nice little set up you have here, Captain. Why it practically has your name written all over it!"
Only a bit of that was sarcasm. The rest was legitimate compliment, though he could not help but feel as if he had made a terrible mistake in accepting Bischofite's challenge. The uneven terrain and various obstacles would make this an extremely difficult fight, and the location would make it hard for him to get his little plan in motion. Until then, he was on his own, and it was a matter of stalling for time. He didn't need Bischofite to remind him about the stakes, but he didn't think ill of him for his enthusiasm, and he tried to syphon a mere fraction of that energy as he withdrew his lonely and rather pathetic looking now boomerang. "Ready as I'll ever be, mein Freund."Strickenized My German is terribly rusty...
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Posted: Fri Jun 14, 2013 7:07 pm
"Good." Bischofite smiled. Whether it was due to his prior alcohol consumption or his lust for senseless violence, it wasn't apparent. However, the fact remained that he exhibited some semblance of happiness toward his fellow captain. Something of a budding friendship. "Your accent is heavily American, Schatzie. Try to work on zat if I win."
Despite the terrible pronunciation causing him to blanch, Buddingtonite proved an interesting encounter. He seemed protective of his civilian identity, which Bischofite understood to a point. However, why conceal it altogether when one could lie and list the name of one's worst enemy? Even though he lacked that insidious nature, his enthusiasm and agreement to a little matchup impressed the misanthrope. As one willing to risk his identity and reputation within the Negaverse concerning energy gathering, Buddingtonite proved he could indulge in the moment and put the future at stake as a means to enhance his experience of the present.
Now Bischofite was starting to rethink his rewards for victory to a more... indulgent angle. Too bad he couldn't revise them now.
After several steps backward, over the uneven terrain, he stopped next to a thin rope running up the length of an unfinished building. At the top dangled a makeshift pulley system, currently held in place by a bracket hammered around the steel support beam. "Now, we need some sort of starting sign. When zat... sing hits ze ground, we start." However, using his chakrams was about as effective as sawing at it with a butterknife. Instead, he settled for a discarded box knife half-buried in the dirt. After a few practiced slices, the rope snapped and the pulley flat at the top quickly plummeted toward the ground.
Once the flimsy board splintered across the dirt in a ceremonious crack, Bischofite sprinted toward his opponent. Buddingtonite may have range on him with that pathetically small boomerang, but he made up for it with a more formidable weapon. After all, how was such a puny wooden stick supposed to hold him at bay? It wouldn't even if he had to fight through the pain to gain ground on the captain. Nothing short of teleportation would stop the raven-haired captain from pursuing his mark.
Once Buddingtonite entered his range, he'd begin a flurry of swipes at the captain. Blows influenced by the euphoria of battle. The epiphanies buried in violence. He needed to know, thus he needed to fight.
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Posted: Sun Jun 16, 2013 9:09 pm
Buddingtonite rolled his eyes but otherwise tried to remain outwardly pleasant. Normally he wouldn't take offense to criticism on his German as he was fairly rusty and only went to Germany once in college, but today he made an exception. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, then."
He took a moment to straighten his cap, not having a clue what was on Bischofite's mind and having a feeling that he didn't want to know. Who knew what went on his mind? Probably some terrifying stuff, but then again, Buddingtonite was certain that his on mind was no playground. Well... perhaps it was, if one compared it to the 'game' that Ender would play. Given his battle arrangements, though, perhaps that fiction wasn't too far from reality.
His crimson eyes followed the rope and looked at what was to be their gunfire to trigger the start. He didn't like it, and it could have easily backfired and came crashing down on the both of them. Or, maybe it'd smite Bischofite and he'd be spared from the possibility of a humiliating defeat should his back up not arrive. It was worth a shot.
Not that Bischofite was going to give him a chance to actually say anything before it came crashing down, and no amount of acting or perfecting his poker face could disguise the surprise from masking his face when Bischofite came charging at him. "Nyah!"
He saw the fists coming at him and he did the first thing he could think of besides to back away. He threw his cap at him in hopes of either deflecting one of those blows or distracting him, but he had a feeling that it wouldn't have worked out in the end. He tried to dodge the blows and almost twisted his ankle in stepping back, and when he thought he couldn't dodge, he rose an arm in hopes of protecting his face. "Watch the face! I have a reputation to keep up, you know!"
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Posted: Mon Jun 17, 2013 11:28 pm
Bischofite lacked any concern or consideration for the damage he might deal a comrade, nor did he bother to think of the man's flaunted reputation. His focus remained wholly on violence, on asserting himself in the heat of battle, and each swing he was only the breadth of a sigh away from his opponent's skin. So close, yet never close enough. With each passing second, each swing of the chakrams yielded nothing more than a faint sing in the wind.
Each breath, another swing. Staccato beats, legato motions. Fluidity, like water, spilling across the terrain.
That perfection bore such a virulent personality, orchestrated by their highly coordinated movements. They performed as elements of nature, as if rehearsing an ancient play. And with each swing ghosting past his opponent to little avail, Bischofite sought a more passionate approach.
More effort.
More speed.
More ruthlessness.
Yet, never a blow to the face. Maybe it was a game, some senseless pursuit fora little more precision, but each attack teased precariously close to the captain's face. Perhaps he intentionally missed with each fluid slice, taunting his opponent, as if they were playing a game and he was winning. Any scored blows simply breeched his opponent's clothing, neither deep or severe in nature.
And with each passing second, each movement became more succinct, more accurate, more violent. He sought blood, then flesh, then bone. He sought to mirror his passion for finality for his opponent, as a destructive means for expressing himself.
During their dance, his movements jolted suddenly when his foot collided with a slab of heavy, broken concrete. He pinwheeled to retain his balance, and simultaneously he received a glancing blow from a... hat. It immediately piqued his curiosity, and in a rare lull of the battle, he placed it atop his head. He grinned unabashedly, and cocked an eyebrow at his opponent. "How do I look?"
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Posted: Tue Jun 18, 2013 1:25 am
No doubt about it, Bischofite was enjoying himself and would likely dance circles around Buddgintonite. Even on one of his best days, Buddingtonite couldn't have hoped to keep up with the likes of him, and if anything he was damn lucky that the only thing this guy managed to hit was his shoulder, sparing his face from what was sure to be one hell of a shiner. It was hard to keep up a brave front, but Buddingtonite felt that he was doing a commendable job, even if he felt like he was floundering like a fish thrown onto the decks.
Perhaps if he was watching from the sidelines he would have admired his finesse and skill and even admired just how elegant he appeared in a matter of seconds. Prior to fighting, he was rather crass, terrifying. Now he was just as terrifying but in an exotic way, and had he not been at the mercy of his blows and the energy he gathered at stake, he would have found himself starstruck by his unrivaled prowess. There was something about his movements that was strangely poetic, contrasting the frighteningly bloodthirsty nature of his ally, and Buddingtonite would have been a damned liar if he didn't find any of this attractive.
He just... really wished he wasn't the one fighting him. He ducked and dodged as much as he could, taking a hit here and there and looking for some kind of opening, and it seemed like someone upstairs pitied him as it came in the form of an interesting quirk. His distraction had worked, somewhat, and seeing an opening, the opportunistic Buddingtonite took it. He charged forward and tried to slam his shoulder into Bischofite's gut, hoping to tackle him down and pin him down. Certainly not too graceful coming from someone like himself, but at this point, he was getting pretty damn desperate to protect his identity and his hard earned energy rations. "Not too shabby, if I say so myself..."
Maybe he could win this without her help? Somehow, even as he made his gallant bull rush, he doubted that.
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Posted: Tue Jun 18, 2013 7:12 pm
The blow was somewhat expected, though only perceived when it was too late. Bischofite groaned loudly, words escaping him with the last whispers of his breath. Buddingtonite's attack sent him sprawling onto the uneven ground, with varying chunks of concrete digging into his shoulder blades. He would've congratulated his comrade, were he not breathless. Instead, he laughed and coughed, resulting in an uneven, stunted sound, though his approval reflected in his visage.
Even in such a disadvantaged position, he found something to appreciate in the redhead's unique choice in actions. After all, who possessed such cunning to use one's own uniform as a distraction to turn the tides of battle? Who resorted to surprise attacks in the midst of a tussle? Someone clever, someone unique, someone worth knowing after the fact.
Someone worth knowing intimately.
When he caught his breath, pinned beneath the captain, he resorted to a thinly-veiled hint toward his next attack. "I'm afraid I'm not one to apologize," he returned, almost tangentially. Soon afterward, he followed up his words with a swift knee to his opponent's groin, in hopes of thoroughly crippling him and creating his own opportunity to rebuke this lamentable turn of events.
However, given the redhead's propensity for infuriating others, he probably had the wherewithal to guard against such an attack. Or perhaps that devious charm of his somehow prevented such an occurrence from happening...
After all, this chance encounter was full of surprises.
"Nicely done, captain, but you'll haf' to try harder to win zis. But... I would'f broken your nose instead, were you not so obsessed wis' your face." Admittedly he had a nice face, though Bischofite knew not why it required so much protection. If anything, a broken nose lent a bit of character to his appearance, and granted the opportunity for a plethora of easily-spun stories to enthrall listeners.
Once he regained some measure of his enthusiasm, he sought to turn the tables on his comrade and send him into a pile of detritus instead.
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Posted: Sun Jun 23, 2013 7:47 pm
The fact that he was able to get his tackle in was nothing short of surprising for Buddingtonite and he was certain that it would have been enough to guarantee a victory tonight. Perhaps calling for backup wouldn't have been necessary after all? And yet, he had allowed for his overconfidence to get the better of him, as before he could give a triumphant laugh, he felt the blow to his groin. That pretty much killed anything he was going to say for that moment maybe the next few moments, and that's all it took for him to slump off and over the captain he tackled.
Had he known what Bischofite was thinking, he would have figured that he ruined what good graces he had been gathering thus far with this little display, but one did not simply shrug off a blow to that area... no amount of Chaos pulsing through him would have protected him from such an assault or dulled the pain. Finally, when he was able to speak, he gave a playful, but pained, spat, and suddenly he was REALLY looking forward to that back up. "Hehehe... you say to try harder... well... won't be doing for awhile..."
Not without extreme amount of pain, anyway. He tried to pull himself to his feet, looking for something, anything that he could use to his advantage, and that was when he spotted her. Of course he hadn't felt her! She hadn't transformed! Yet, there she was, clear as day, leaning against the recently built infrastructure and looking to be enjoying the show. Annoying that her back had witness his crumble, but at least now there was back up, and that was enough to force the captain to his feet. Just a little longer. "You know, my profession puts a lot of value on my appearance... would you want to do business... with someone that looks like they're in an abusive relationship?"
He rose his fists and was ready to engage again, needing only to lure him towards Nyasa's direction. He wished their first encounter as Negaverse captains would have been more talk and touch rather than a brawl, but perhaps there was a way to salvage this when all the fighting was over and his energy and identity were secured. Assuming Nyasa felt like making her move any time soon...Nyasa Freeman literally had nothing better to do with her evening, and truth be told, she was a little concerned for her roommate's life. He never called her, either on their cellphone nor through their crystals, so when he did, she could only assume that the fool had gotten over his head. She didn't like him. In fact, she was pretty damn close to admitting that she hated him, but for the sake of the Negaverse and her orders, she tried to overcome such hatred and rise above it.
Besides, if he was in legitimate trouble and her superiors knew that she willingly ignored his call of help, she could have imagined the punishment for that would have been grave. Not one to risk that, she moved out, and it didn't take long for find him, nor regret her actions.
He was fighting one of their own, and one that she immediately recognized, despite his upgrade. Honestly, she wanted to let Bischofite wipe the floor with him, but even she had to admit that she was worried if Bischofite was the type to hold back in a fight. The kick to the nuts was humorous, but frightening, and Nyasa decided that she would have to follow up with her promise to Buddingtonite, and soon. Or... she could wait a little longer and get more quality entertainment... that was just as acceptable to her.
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