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Maroonian Misadventures
The SuperHero RPG :: The Superhero RPG Universe aka Roleplay Section :: North America :: United States of America :: Chicago, Illinois
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Maroonian Misadventures
by Jack Maroon October 25th 2012, 4:23 pm
It's a strange world we live in. A world in which the battle between good and evil has not been confined within the spirit of man, but rather has spilled onto the streets of the very cities we live in. It is a world in which the line between reality and fantasy has become so blurred that the fantastic and bizarre has almost become commonplace, yet still has not lost its radiance and novelty. A world in which technology is no longer limited even by our imagination, and not even our wildest dreams are beyond our grasp. In which magic, though obscure and arcane in nature, is part of the very foundation our reality rests upon, and as much a part of it as anything else. We live in a world of wonder, ripped out from the pages of a grand storybook, one filled with a vast and seemingly infinite collection of epic stories. Stories that are lived by characters embodying that eternal struggle of good and evil, men and women that are larger than life, on whose shoulders rests the fate of this world we hold so dear.
Today we investigate the story of a man who embodies none of that conflict. A man who, despite having been gifted with powers beyond that of his mortal ilk, has found relatively little purpose in life. We follow the story of a man marooned on the shores of nihilism by the absurdity of existence. The story of some jackass called Jack Maroon.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This story starts, as many do, with a flame of purpose that is kindled within the protagonist's soul by the emergence of some antagonistic force pressurizing him into action. Our hero lay prostrate next to a luxurious sofa, his normally impressive figure splayed on the cold floor rather awkwardly. The floor was littered with empty beer bottles, unconscious guests and other assorted articles of leftovers from the festivities. He, the master of the house, had declared the mansion a 'party-zone', in which partying hard was deemed mandatory and violation of this rule punishable to swooshing and papping. Whatever this entailed was an enigma to the party-goers, but knowing Jack maroon they decided they'd rather not find out. Only after 72 hours of uninterrupted bacchanalia did our hero succumb to fatigue and intoxication, and with that ended the party.
After many hours of near-comatose slumber Jack finally began to regain consciousness, along with a hangover that would slay most men. Luckily for him, he wasn't most men.
Jack Maroon was a self-made superhuman. Given the powers of superhuman speed and fighting skill that bordered on the ridiculous and general enhanced physicality by making a wish upon witnessing the fall of a magical meteor, he was one of the few metahumans whose origin made little sense and had no dramatic value whatsoever. In fact, the only purpose his powers served was to make him as 'cool' as the fictional characters from his japanese shows and videogames, and to allow him to live a lifestyle that was in direct opposition to the severity of the tumor inside his head. The latter was one of the driving reasons behind most of his actions, a desperation to live his dreams; his dreams being killing people in death-matches and challenging other superhumans to said death-matches, all the while still operating on some vague principles of morality. Needless to say, his hero spiel didn't work out very well, and he became renowned as a chaotically inclined renegade vigilante.
All of this changed when he inherited the family business, along with shitloads of cash. Ka-ching. Soliciting the help of one of his obscure contacts, a brain in a jar called Doctor 0, Jack actually manage to cure his condition. This freed him from his delusions of heroism and of his obsessive drive to be awesome. On the downside of course, it bereft him of the only purpose he had in life, and left him with an internal void that could only be filled by fighting and killing, activities that no longer held much meaning to him now.
Which leads us to our hero's current predicament.
Dance, drink and women could fill the void, but this feeling of fulfillment would only last as long as its duration, crumbling when the activities ceased. Jack's life, now that he had become filthy rich, had become a string of wild parties and festivals. Whenever he wasn't partying in his mansion, he was partying somewhere else on the world. With his speed, borders became meaningless, and both continental and intercontinental travel became just a trivial chore.
But he still felt empty. Slowly Jack removed himself from the floor and wobbled to a standing position.
There was only very little on his mind. The only thought that occurred to him was: "Okay. And what now?"
Turns out this thought was all that was needed to put events into motion. What now? His mind raced to find an answer, and found itself wanting. Jack pushed his mind, forcing his faculties on this simple yet seemingly impossible task. As his gears grinded ferociously, the playboy dragged himself up to his dressing room. A process that took him very little time. Even when not sober, he was still the world's fastest man. Sunglasses. Clean white tee. Jogging pants. Sneakers. Snuggly bathrobe. Okay. He was ready to go out. But what was he going out for? He still hadn't quite figured that out.
"I could go for some fucking ice cream. Why the fuck not." Jack spoke to himself, having finally decided on a course of action. He took a second to eat a few slices of bread and have some energy drink, then set out into the city to get himself some ice cream. Why ice cream you ask? Hell if I know. I'm just the narrator. I'm not even supposed to have a role in all of this. Stop asking me things.
Today we investigate the story of a man who embodies none of that conflict. A man who, despite having been gifted with powers beyond that of his mortal ilk, has found relatively little purpose in life. We follow the story of a man marooned on the shores of nihilism by the absurdity of existence. The story of some jackass called Jack Maroon.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This story starts, as many do, with a flame of purpose that is kindled within the protagonist's soul by the emergence of some antagonistic force pressurizing him into action. Our hero lay prostrate next to a luxurious sofa, his normally impressive figure splayed on the cold floor rather awkwardly. The floor was littered with empty beer bottles, unconscious guests and other assorted articles of leftovers from the festivities. He, the master of the house, had declared the mansion a 'party-zone', in which partying hard was deemed mandatory and violation of this rule punishable to swooshing and papping. Whatever this entailed was an enigma to the party-goers, but knowing Jack maroon they decided they'd rather not find out. Only after 72 hours of uninterrupted bacchanalia did our hero succumb to fatigue and intoxication, and with that ended the party.
After many hours of near-comatose slumber Jack finally began to regain consciousness, along with a hangover that would slay most men. Luckily for him, he wasn't most men.
Jack Maroon was a self-made superhuman. Given the powers of superhuman speed and fighting skill that bordered on the ridiculous and general enhanced physicality by making a wish upon witnessing the fall of a magical meteor, he was one of the few metahumans whose origin made little sense and had no dramatic value whatsoever. In fact, the only purpose his powers served was to make him as 'cool' as the fictional characters from his japanese shows and videogames, and to allow him to live a lifestyle that was in direct opposition to the severity of the tumor inside his head. The latter was one of the driving reasons behind most of his actions, a desperation to live his dreams; his dreams being killing people in death-matches and challenging other superhumans to said death-matches, all the while still operating on some vague principles of morality. Needless to say, his hero spiel didn't work out very well, and he became renowned as a chaotically inclined renegade vigilante.
All of this changed when he inherited the family business, along with shitloads of cash. Ka-ching. Soliciting the help of one of his obscure contacts, a brain in a jar called Doctor 0, Jack actually manage to cure his condition. This freed him from his delusions of heroism and of his obsessive drive to be awesome. On the downside of course, it bereft him of the only purpose he had in life, and left him with an internal void that could only be filled by fighting and killing, activities that no longer held much meaning to him now.
Which leads us to our hero's current predicament.
Dance, drink and women could fill the void, but this feeling of fulfillment would only last as long as its duration, crumbling when the activities ceased. Jack's life, now that he had become filthy rich, had become a string of wild parties and festivals. Whenever he wasn't partying in his mansion, he was partying somewhere else on the world. With his speed, borders became meaningless, and both continental and intercontinental travel became just a trivial chore.
But he still felt empty. Slowly Jack removed himself from the floor and wobbled to a standing position.
There was only very little on his mind. The only thought that occurred to him was: "Okay. And what now?"
Turns out this thought was all that was needed to put events into motion. What now? His mind raced to find an answer, and found itself wanting. Jack pushed his mind, forcing his faculties on this simple yet seemingly impossible task. As his gears grinded ferociously, the playboy dragged himself up to his dressing room. A process that took him very little time. Even when not sober, he was still the world's fastest man. Sunglasses. Clean white tee. Jogging pants. Sneakers. Snuggly bathrobe. Okay. He was ready to go out. But what was he going out for? He still hadn't quite figured that out.
"I could go for some fucking ice cream. Why the fuck not." Jack spoke to himself, having finally decided on a course of action. He took a second to eat a few slices of bread and have some energy drink, then set out into the city to get himself some ice cream. Why ice cream you ask? Hell if I know. I'm just the narrator. I'm not even supposed to have a role in all of this. Stop asking me things.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
Jack Maroon- Post Mate
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Quote : "Insert Quote from Character Here" or etc.
Warnings :
Number of posts : 193
Location : Glorious Nation of Dutchlandia
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Registration date : 2012-02-03 -
Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by The Bolt November 3rd 2012, 8:57 pm
Reaper's eyes looked out over the scape of the city of Chicago,a sprawling metropolis that was filled with the burgeoning masses that moved about their lives with a meager pace. Those tiny lights that moved about with a snails pace through the many streets that crisscrossed the city like veins. Agent Reaper looked down upon this city with a mix of contempt and interest,her perch the larege structure now known as the Willis Tower. Wind whipped her hair about,that white mass light brushing across her pale skin as it seemed to dance akin to a marionette on a string. Taking a deep breath in through her nostrils Reaper let her arms spread outwards as her eyes moved heavenward. The sky was a a deep black;starless,thats what it was. It was as if something had thrown a dark blanket above the city and the lights of the many buildings alone provided the illumination.
She was light clothed,as was her preferred fashion whenever she was on a mission. This outfit was different though. It was a specialized light armor that conformed to her body, as well as the specialized gauntlets and her other armaments. This was going to be a difficult task,or so she was told that it was going to be. Looking backd own to the street level,Reaper produced a small dossier from a pouch at her side and began to scan over the information neatly typed on the paper. Tongune running over her slightly dry lips,Reaper let a low whistle roll out before re-reading the information as if unsure if it were correct. There was no way that the information could be correct,just no way. ”Well then,this may be tougher than I thought it would be.” She muttered to herself,though the sound was lost within the sound of the winds of Chicago.
If what she read was indeed correct,this man was possibly her better and that meant she had to kill him quickly. One shot to the face would do it if it was done before he could act but what were his abilities beyoned speed? It said that he was also a proficient swordsmen,though that was just one thing that it said he could so,also it was stated that he was physically the same as her;except for the fact that he was far faster than her of course. ”Well its now or never.” Shayla muttered to herself stepping closer to the edge of the building until it was only a step until what would be a deadly plunge to an untimely death. Taking a deep breaths she jumped forward as the material beneath her cracked and she swore she heard what was the worried mutter of someone.
The next thing she hit was the roof of the next building,tucking into a roll to minimize the damage that could have been done,now only her ankle jarring but not enough to impair her in any way. She went on with this dash until she heard that the position of the man had changed,changed to what sounded like an ice cream shop. This guy had a sweet tooth he seemed but it was one he was not likely going to be able to fufill when she was done with him. Picking up her speed she would make her way to where the man was,red eyes narrowing as the man weapons strapped to her person seemed to move about from the sharp increase in speed. The city flew by her at a speed the average person could not percieve but Reaper had no problem doing so and went on until she saw where she was going for.
Removing the twin energy pistols from their holsters Reaper turned the safeties off with a flick of her fingers before swinftly making her way to the ground level. There he was making his way into an ice cream selling establishment. Aiming one of the pistoils at the man she pulled the trigger and let the powerful condensed bullet of energy fly at the man.
She was light clothed,as was her preferred fashion whenever she was on a mission. This outfit was different though. It was a specialized light armor that conformed to her body, as well as the specialized gauntlets and her other armaments. This was going to be a difficult task,or so she was told that it was going to be. Looking backd own to the street level,Reaper produced a small dossier from a pouch at her side and began to scan over the information neatly typed on the paper. Tongune running over her slightly dry lips,Reaper let a low whistle roll out before re-reading the information as if unsure if it were correct. There was no way that the information could be correct,just no way. ”Well then,this may be tougher than I thought it would be.” She muttered to herself,though the sound was lost within the sound of the winds of Chicago.
If what she read was indeed correct,this man was possibly her better and that meant she had to kill him quickly. One shot to the face would do it if it was done before he could act but what were his abilities beyoned speed? It said that he was also a proficient swordsmen,though that was just one thing that it said he could so,also it was stated that he was physically the same as her;except for the fact that he was far faster than her of course. ”Well its now or never.” Shayla muttered to herself stepping closer to the edge of the building until it was only a step until what would be a deadly plunge to an untimely death. Taking a deep breaths she jumped forward as the material beneath her cracked and she swore she heard what was the worried mutter of someone.
The next thing she hit was the roof of the next building,tucking into a roll to minimize the damage that could have been done,now only her ankle jarring but not enough to impair her in any way. She went on with this dash until she heard that the position of the man had changed,changed to what sounded like an ice cream shop. This guy had a sweet tooth he seemed but it was one he was not likely going to be able to fufill when she was done with him. Picking up her speed she would make her way to where the man was,red eyes narrowing as the man weapons strapped to her person seemed to move about from the sharp increase in speed. The city flew by her at a speed the average person could not percieve but Reaper had no problem doing so and went on until she saw where she was going for.
Removing the twin energy pistols from their holsters Reaper turned the safeties off with a flick of her fingers before swinftly making her way to the ground level. There he was making his way into an ice cream selling establishment. Aiming one of the pistoils at the man she pulled the trigger and let the powerful condensed bullet of energy fly at the man.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by Jack Maroon November 4th 2012, 1:54 am
The sounds were unmistakable to Jack Maroon: the near-silent swooshing of super-speeding, the safety clicks of a gun and the lethal burst of energy being unleashed; the latter was relatively new to him, but was similar enough to what he was used to as to not invoke strong surprise or bewilderment.
The number of would-be assassins that had attempted to take his life was great enough for him to have given up on keeping count. And keeping count was something he was often very fond of. He reckoned he must have stopped counting around the 50. Government assassins, disgruntled mobster hitmen, shady anti-meta groups, he'd seen it all.
It would hardly come as a surprise then, that Jack Maroon indeed did dodge the energy bullet meant for him, side-stepping it at a speed similar to that of the projectile itself. However, it only missed by a hair. It was a close call. Luckily close calls were common to the man, and this was not his first rodeo. He stumbled backwards a little, still hungover from before. To others it would either seem that he had very bad sense of balance or that he was doing a very poor impression of captain Jack Sparrow.
He looked over to the gun(wo)man's general direction and spoke up, speaking rather lazily.
"Really? You choose today to try and kill me? Lame. Man can't even get some ice-cream without haters steppin' up and tryin' to cap one in him. Fucken pussies."
His usual swagger was replaced by a more relaxed and kind of absentminded drawl. Maybe if he weren't hungover and hadn't just woken up he would have a little more pizzaz to spare for his assailant, but he'd have none of that now. He waited to see what her next move would be. Hopefully she'd engage in some banter too, give him something to work with, and some time to get back in the groove. That was unlikely though, he thought. These hitmen were all the same; all serious and pragmatic-like, rarely a word to spare for him. So boring. Everything was so boring.
The number of would-be assassins that had attempted to take his life was great enough for him to have given up on keeping count. And keeping count was something he was often very fond of. He reckoned he must have stopped counting around the 50. Government assassins, disgruntled mobster hitmen, shady anti-meta groups, he'd seen it all.
It would hardly come as a surprise then, that Jack Maroon indeed did dodge the energy bullet meant for him, side-stepping it at a speed similar to that of the projectile itself. However, it only missed by a hair. It was a close call. Luckily close calls were common to the man, and this was not his first rodeo. He stumbled backwards a little, still hungover from before. To others it would either seem that he had very bad sense of balance or that he was doing a very poor impression of captain Jack Sparrow.
He looked over to the gun(wo)man's general direction and spoke up, speaking rather lazily.
"Really? You choose today to try and kill me? Lame. Man can't even get some ice-cream without haters steppin' up and tryin' to cap one in him. Fucken pussies."
His usual swagger was replaced by a more relaxed and kind of absentminded drawl. Maybe if he weren't hungover and hadn't just woken up he would have a little more pizzaz to spare for his assailant, but he'd have none of that now. He waited to see what her next move would be. Hopefully she'd engage in some banter too, give him something to work with, and some time to get back in the groove. That was unlikely though, he thought. These hitmen were all the same; all serious and pragmatic-like, rarely a word to spare for him. So boring. Everything was so boring.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
Jack Maroon- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "Insert Quote from Character Here" or etc.
Warnings :
Number of posts : 193
Location : Glorious Nation of Dutchlandia
Job : Not anymore.
Registration date : 2012-02-03 -
Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by The Bolt November 25th 2012, 3:24 pm
”Oh did I interrupt something? Sorry but I just can’t seem to muster up a fuck to give, got a quota to meet and you just seem to be on it.” Shayla shifted weight onto her left leg as she sized up the metahuman now standing in front of her. He was not a person to underestimate she was told but he was just a drunk, barely even clothed and probably not even in a state good enough to fight her on equal footing. Reaper was not scared of this man, she would kill him quick enough. She was feeling generous though and that meant she was less likely to rip him into a thousand pieces, be cleaner with her work.
”So you got a weapon or are you gonna fight me barehanded?” She asked raising an eyebrow. From her inspection he didn’t and that meant it would only prove boring if she fought him as he was. She had the prototype energy blade, which hadn't been used in a while and she ha heard he was a master swordsman; maybe it would be more useful in his hands. She reached for the handle of the blade, wooden sheath still on the end where the energy would coalesce into a blade,never really liked the weapon much after she got the most useful tools from the Dominus energy weapons initiative.
People looked in awe of the scantily clad albino warrior who stood so serenely in their midst without a single thought, face showing a fierce determination. Pulling the weapon from her weapon belt, she threw it to the feet of the man. The specially crafted weapon clattered carelessly on the ground as she motioned to it with a slim but powerful finger. ”There, can’t fight you if you don’t have a weapon can I? I guess that would make this fight a little fairer” This may have come off to some as arrogance but she was simply being kind, seeing as how she was in the mood for a good fight, when usually she went for a bloody and quick kill.
”So you got a weapon or are you gonna fight me barehanded?” She asked raising an eyebrow. From her inspection he didn’t and that meant it would only prove boring if she fought him as he was. She had the prototype energy blade, which hadn't been used in a while and she ha heard he was a master swordsman; maybe it would be more useful in his hands. She reached for the handle of the blade, wooden sheath still on the end where the energy would coalesce into a blade,never really liked the weapon much after she got the most useful tools from the Dominus energy weapons initiative.
People looked in awe of the scantily clad albino warrior who stood so serenely in their midst without a single thought, face showing a fierce determination. Pulling the weapon from her weapon belt, she threw it to the feet of the man. The specially crafted weapon clattered carelessly on the ground as she motioned to it with a slim but powerful finger. ”There, can’t fight you if you don’t have a weapon can I? I guess that would make this fight a little fairer” This may have come off to some as arrogance but she was simply being kind, seeing as how she was in the mood for a good fight, when usually she went for a bloody and quick kill.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by Jack Maroon December 2nd 2012, 11:32 am
Jack trudged towards the energy blade and picked it up. The manner in which he carried himself almost screamed inexperience, showing enough openings for the woman to have killed him ten times over. Holding the weapon in his hands, he examined it thoroughly, and taking his time in doing so. Then, when his foggy mind finally grasped the nature of the weapon, Jack broke his silence.
"Whoa momma, this is a fucking beam katana? Well call me Sally and fuck me sideways, is this my birthday or somethin'?" He exclaimed, enthusiasm dripping from his words. Energy returned to his posture and movement, his apparent glee at receiving such a gift being enough to wake him up from his state of drowsiness. With an expression of childlike wonder on his face, marred only by the dark sunglasses guarding his eyes, Jack unsheathed the sword and activated it. He gave it a few flourishes, betraying at least a modicum of his skill to the girl who most likely was starting to get rather impatient with him.
"Lady, I've got no idea who sent you, and I rightly don't give much of a damn. But I'm guessing with hardware like this, it's gotta be government-funded at least." He had thought the government had given up on catching him; all their effort had gone to waste, and now that he was retired there really wasn't much point in it. "Man, someone must really want me dead, heh." Jack chuckled. He was flattered.
"Alright then. Guess I gotta take this seriously. Wouldn't be fair otherwise." Jack walked up to the ice cream truck and grabbed a soda from the counter. While drinking the tasty beverage, he let slip off his bathrobe. The simple white tee and jogging pants, though certainly not as much of a fashion statement as the albino assassin's was, revealed the abundance of muscle on his body, sculpted like a marble god.
"Thanks for the sword. And the prep-time, yo. Appreciate it. You wanna tell me your name before we do this? Can't guarantee you'll be getting out alive, you know?"
Jack's posture had corrected itself. He was still relaxed, seemingly too relaxed for his own good. But to the trained eye it was clear that he was more than ready for battle; not a single shred of hesitation or fear within him. His stance reflected only his state of mind.
"Whoa momma, this is a fucking beam katana? Well call me Sally and fuck me sideways, is this my birthday or somethin'?" He exclaimed, enthusiasm dripping from his words. Energy returned to his posture and movement, his apparent glee at receiving such a gift being enough to wake him up from his state of drowsiness. With an expression of childlike wonder on his face, marred only by the dark sunglasses guarding his eyes, Jack unsheathed the sword and activated it. He gave it a few flourishes, betraying at least a modicum of his skill to the girl who most likely was starting to get rather impatient with him.
"Lady, I've got no idea who sent you, and I rightly don't give much of a damn. But I'm guessing with hardware like this, it's gotta be government-funded at least." He had thought the government had given up on catching him; all their effort had gone to waste, and now that he was retired there really wasn't much point in it. "Man, someone must really want me dead, heh." Jack chuckled. He was flattered.
"Alright then. Guess I gotta take this seriously. Wouldn't be fair otherwise." Jack walked up to the ice cream truck and grabbed a soda from the counter. While drinking the tasty beverage, he let slip off his bathrobe. The simple white tee and jogging pants, though certainly not as much of a fashion statement as the albino assassin's was, revealed the abundance of muscle on his body, sculpted like a marble god.
"Thanks for the sword. And the prep-time, yo. Appreciate it. You wanna tell me your name before we do this? Can't guarantee you'll be getting out alive, you know?"
Jack's posture had corrected itself. He was still relaxed, seemingly too relaxed for his own good. But to the trained eye it was clear that he was more than ready for battle; not a single shred of hesitation or fear within him. His stance reflected only his state of mind.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
Jack Maroon- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "Insert Quote from Character Here" or etc.
Warnings :
Number of posts : 193
Location : Glorious Nation of Dutchlandia
Job : Not anymore.
Registration date : 2012-02-03 -
Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by The Bolt December 2nd 2012, 2:25 pm
From what she could tell he had enjoyed the weapon that he was given, an earlier model within the energy weapon initiative but a useful one nonetheless. If what she had heard about his skill was true, then she may have handed him the instrument of her doom but Reaper had enough confidence sense to think of a few ways to kill even someone of his supposed skill. For now she would let him enjoy the new dangerous weapon that he was handed so freely, hands reaching to grab one of her weapons, a simple metallic handle.
”My name?” She raised a snowy eyebrow. ”I won’t give you my name but I guess I can tell you what everyone else calls me.” With a flick of the switch a long and thick blade of pure energy extended from the metallic hilt of the blade. She had given him enough time to prepare for the fight to come and now she was going to get serious with this man. The energy blade hissed as it made contact with the ground, tip sinking in with little difficulty.
”They call me Agent Reaper, and I have to kill you.” Easily hefting the blade she pointed it in Jacks direction, leveling the blade with his face. It seemed both were ready for the confrontation to come though she wasn’t sure how seriously he was taking her right now but she knew that he was not to be taken lightly if she could help it. If Dominus was correct he was supposed to be the fastest men alive and his sword skill deadly, not a good combination for most of the agents. ”This place feels a little crowded for a fight though, too much would get in our way.” Red eyes moved to look over everything filling the small ice cream shop.
Turning around she left her back open for any attack that Jack maroon could have done if he really wanted to, though she was sure that he wouldn't if she had pegged his personality just right. Walking through the door she stepped into the middle of the street, someone honking their horn at the strange albino woman with the even stranger sword that had stepped out in front of him. Not even giving the man much thought she slammed her right fist into the hood of the small car, metal twisting under the immense amount of pressure. The car buckled forward slightly, but it shit the person up easily.
Looking to Jack Maroon who was likely to have followed her she smirked. ”Let’s get started.”
”My name?” She raised a snowy eyebrow. ”I won’t give you my name but I guess I can tell you what everyone else calls me.” With a flick of the switch a long and thick blade of pure energy extended from the metallic hilt of the blade. She had given him enough time to prepare for the fight to come and now she was going to get serious with this man. The energy blade hissed as it made contact with the ground, tip sinking in with little difficulty.
”They call me Agent Reaper, and I have to kill you.” Easily hefting the blade she pointed it in Jacks direction, leveling the blade with his face. It seemed both were ready for the confrontation to come though she wasn’t sure how seriously he was taking her right now but she knew that he was not to be taken lightly if she could help it. If Dominus was correct he was supposed to be the fastest men alive and his sword skill deadly, not a good combination for most of the agents. ”This place feels a little crowded for a fight though, too much would get in our way.” Red eyes moved to look over everything filling the small ice cream shop.
Turning around she left her back open for any attack that Jack maroon could have done if he really wanted to, though she was sure that he wouldn't if she had pegged his personality just right. Walking through the door she stepped into the middle of the street, someone honking their horn at the strange albino woman with the even stranger sword that had stepped out in front of him. Not even giving the man much thought she slammed her right fist into the hood of the small car, metal twisting under the immense amount of pressure. The car buckled forward slightly, but it shit the person up easily.
Looking to Jack Maroon who was likely to have followed her she smirked. ”Let’s get started.”
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by Jack Maroon December 2nd 2012, 3:08 pm
"Agent Reaper huh? Sounds ominous. I'll try not voiding my bowels from sheer terror, so we can do this properly and without any soiled britches gettin' in the way." Jack grinned goofilly as he followed her out of the ice cream parlor. He didn't really know what to think of her, so he decided not to think much at all.
A barely-dressed albino hottie armed to the teeth with advanced weaponry just told him she was going to kill him.
Now Jack Maroon was no stranger to death threats, but this situation was still relatively odd, even for his standards.
However, despite the thrilling new development and the fulfillment of yet another of his childhood dreams in the form of friggin' lightsaber dueling, Jack felt hollow. He was just going through the movements. Business as usual.
High-stakes duel with assassin, do a little witty, or not-so witty back and forth banter, et cetera et cetera et cetera. It was still exciting; mortal combat with worthy foes remained at the top of his hobby list, but the act was getting stale, the novelty worn off. Stuck in a loop he had initiated years ago, unable to break free, to give new direction to his life.
He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting bored. The parties, the fighting, the killing, the occasional fucking; it was all fun and games, but it held no substance. No meaning, no sense of fulfillment. That was the real joke. He had everything he had ever wanted for, but he might as well have nothing at all.
And this, Jack looked at the backside of the girl while she punched a car that was honking at her, this was just distraction. Distraction however, that he would gladly indulge in.
"Aight." The simple response heralded a swift and powerful first strike. Instantly accelerating to top speed, Jack lunged at the girl with the beam saber, his attack aimed to pierce her heart. A lethal attack if it went unguarded, but simple enough to avoid. For Jack, at least. The attack was aimed to test, to prod for weaknesses and strengths. The position it put Jack in left him with a great measure of control over his movements, and the movements of his weapon, allowing quick reaction to any counter-attack his foe would put up.
He was curious as to what her next move would be, how she would fight him. Would she be weak, strong, skilled, brutal, elegant? He would slowly unwrap his present, slash by slash. Now all he could hope for was that his present wouldn't get ripped to pieces by accident.
A barely-dressed albino hottie armed to the teeth with advanced weaponry just told him she was going to kill him.
Now Jack Maroon was no stranger to death threats, but this situation was still relatively odd, even for his standards.
However, despite the thrilling new development and the fulfillment of yet another of his childhood dreams in the form of friggin' lightsaber dueling, Jack felt hollow. He was just going through the movements. Business as usual.
High-stakes duel with assassin, do a little witty, or not-so witty back and forth banter, et cetera et cetera et cetera. It was still exciting; mortal combat with worthy foes remained at the top of his hobby list, but the act was getting stale, the novelty worn off. Stuck in a loop he had initiated years ago, unable to break free, to give new direction to his life.
He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting bored. The parties, the fighting, the killing, the occasional fucking; it was all fun and games, but it held no substance. No meaning, no sense of fulfillment. That was the real joke. He had everything he had ever wanted for, but he might as well have nothing at all.
And this, Jack looked at the backside of the girl while she punched a car that was honking at her, this was just distraction. Distraction however, that he would gladly indulge in.
"Aight." The simple response heralded a swift and powerful first strike. Instantly accelerating to top speed, Jack lunged at the girl with the beam saber, his attack aimed to pierce her heart. A lethal attack if it went unguarded, but simple enough to avoid. For Jack, at least. The attack was aimed to test, to prod for weaknesses and strengths. The position it put Jack in left him with a great measure of control over his movements, and the movements of his weapon, allowing quick reaction to any counter-attack his foe would put up.
He was curious as to what her next move would be, how she would fight him. Would she be weak, strong, skilled, brutal, elegant? He would slowly unwrap his present, slash by slash. Now all he could hope for was that his present wouldn't get ripped to pieces by accident.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by The Bolt December 2nd 2012, 3:29 pm
It didn’t seem her moniker alone would terrify this man and that actually interested the powerful albino woman, if he shit himself it would be no fun at all. It didn’t take him that long at all to unleash his attack either but at a frightening speed, just as she had expected him to perform though acting upon the attack would be much harder than actually thinking of how she would do so. She would have move now or this would have been the end of her but luckily instinctive reactions were what Reaper had trained to perform her entire life, this would be no different.
His attack was aimed to pierce her heart but she was not going to let that happen so easily, legs moving as she twisted to the side only a few seconds early as the blade was thrust in front of her, where she would have been easily pierced. With little time to react she swung the large blade at the swift man. aiming to bisect him with one powerful stroke, though she was sure that it was not likely to do so to him. It was likely that he was only testing her with this attack but she was not one to be toyed with, many speedsters had learned this lesson the hard way.
If the rest of her Intel was correct he was also supposed to have an amazing amount of strength, which may only make him an even deadlier opponent but she wasn’t too worried about that. Unlike him she was prepared for almost anything that could be thrown at her, as long as it wasn’t something too unexpected but everything so far was going as her plan predicted, well almost everything. This man was more than Reaper probably ever expected of him.
His attack was aimed to pierce her heart but she was not going to let that happen so easily, legs moving as she twisted to the side only a few seconds early as the blade was thrust in front of her, where she would have been easily pierced. With little time to react she swung the large blade at the swift man. aiming to bisect him with one powerful stroke, though she was sure that it was not likely to do so to him. It was likely that he was only testing her with this attack but she was not one to be toyed with, many speedsters had learned this lesson the hard way.
If the rest of her Intel was correct he was also supposed to have an amazing amount of strength, which may only make him an even deadlier opponent but she wasn’t too worried about that. Unlike him she was prepared for almost anything that could be thrown at her, as long as it wasn’t something too unexpected but everything so far was going as her plan predicted, well almost everything. This man was more than Reaper probably ever expected of him.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by Jack Maroon December 2nd 2012, 4:09 pm
Jack smiled as his first attack missed by a narrow margin. She was skilled enough to reflexively dodge the sword and fast enough to actually do it. Not many of Jack's victims shared the latter trait, and it was most likely this trait alone that saved Agent Reaper from an otherwise certain death.
Of course she immediately seized the opportunity to launch a brutal counter-offensive, intending to slice Jack in twain, torso from legs.
As the burning, glowing death swept towards our beloved hero, he once again felt the cold breath of lady death on his neck, her hands reaching for his shoulders to pull him into the void. The Reaper had come to take him, and collect on his murdering soul.
A dozen possible courses of action flashed through Jack's mind, all of them ending in him losing the upper hand in battle. Then, like a brick wrapped in gold, an overlooked and entirely new idea came to him. He had a fucking laser sword now.
Still in the lunging position, his front leg bent and his other stretched along with his sword-arm, Jack gracefully stepped his back leg forward, retracting his sword arm slightly and then swung his blade upward to meet the Reaper's bold assault. Energy crackled from his sword, its sparks singing his clothes and skin ever so slightly. The enemy's weapon seemed to be stronger, but Jack's attack was luckily placed in such a manner that the difference in intensity between the two swords would amount for little.
If not for his speed, the maneuver would most likely have ended in his untimely demise, but for now Jack Maroon had once again managed to elude the cold, bony caress of mortality's end.
A caress that would soon be extended towards the Reaper herself. Her attack, though deadly, gave her a fatal opening. She had dodged to her right, and swung at Jack with her left hand. Now that her strike would be deflected, her entire right side was open. Without hesitation, Jack stepped in with his left foot at maximum velocity and directed a brutal elbow strike at the girl's face. A strike that would allow Jack to turn his body even more towards his enemy's, and was followed up by a right haymaker, for which Jack had quickly deactivated his beam saber. A common misconception carried by those who wanted Jack dead was that he was a skilled swordsman. Their intelligence often failed to mention that the only reason Jack Maroon used swords was because he thought they were cool. Brutal efficiency however, the man preferred to delegate to his fists.
If all went according to plan, Reaper would be disarmed or at least unable to react quick enough with her sword-hand, elbowed in the face and hit with a right haymaker that could knock a normal man's head off in comical fashion.
Of course she immediately seized the opportunity to launch a brutal counter-offensive, intending to slice Jack in twain, torso from legs.
As the burning, glowing death swept towards our beloved hero, he once again felt the cold breath of lady death on his neck, her hands reaching for his shoulders to pull him into the void. The Reaper had come to take him, and collect on his murdering soul.
A dozen possible courses of action flashed through Jack's mind, all of them ending in him losing the upper hand in battle. Then, like a brick wrapped in gold, an overlooked and entirely new idea came to him. He had a fucking laser sword now.
Still in the lunging position, his front leg bent and his other stretched along with his sword-arm, Jack gracefully stepped his back leg forward, retracting his sword arm slightly and then swung his blade upward to meet the Reaper's bold assault. Energy crackled from his sword, its sparks singing his clothes and skin ever so slightly. The enemy's weapon seemed to be stronger, but Jack's attack was luckily placed in such a manner that the difference in intensity between the two swords would amount for little.
If not for his speed, the maneuver would most likely have ended in his untimely demise, but for now Jack Maroon had once again managed to elude the cold, bony caress of mortality's end.
A caress that would soon be extended towards the Reaper herself. Her attack, though deadly, gave her a fatal opening. She had dodged to her right, and swung at Jack with her left hand. Now that her strike would be deflected, her entire right side was open. Without hesitation, Jack stepped in with his left foot at maximum velocity and directed a brutal elbow strike at the girl's face. A strike that would allow Jack to turn his body even more towards his enemy's, and was followed up by a right haymaker, for which Jack had quickly deactivated his beam saber. A common misconception carried by those who wanted Jack dead was that he was a skilled swordsman. Their intelligence often failed to mention that the only reason Jack Maroon used swords was because he thought they were cool. Brutal efficiency however, the man preferred to delegate to his fists.
If all went according to plan, Reaper would be disarmed or at least unable to react quick enough with her sword-hand, elbowed in the face and hit with a right haymaker that could knock a normal man's head off in comical fashion.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by The Bolt December 2nd 2012, 4:42 pm
Her movements to the untrained eye were only a blur but even with her amazing speed this man was just too fast for someone of her level to take down. This move left her wide open for him to retaliate with what would have been the end game for someone of a lower caliber but she was not just anyone, she was far more powerful than any human. He was able to match her sword strike and the move in for another attack with barely any room for her to react against such brutal efficiency, there was very little time to react to him.
Her body tried to move out of the way from the attack but the elbow was far too swift, catching her in the chin as she tried to move and knocking the sense out of her. Blood came from her tongue, teeth having bit into it but not deep enough to bite it off or anything, followed by another powerful stroke that sent her reeling a few feet as blood gushed from her nose that was likely to have been broken from the immense amount of strength behind that blow. Her head was spinning as her back made contact with the ground, cold concrete feeling nice.
All she saw for the moment was the blue sky empty of clouds mostly but it didn’t take long for her to regain her senses. It only took a second for her body to regain control as she leapt to her feet, blood staining her porcelain white skin as eyes the same color as the crimson fluid glared at the man. ”Looks like this guy is tougher than I thought.” She muttered to herself, wiping the blood from her face, though it only ended up staining her gauntlets, something that would agitate her later.
”Nice move Maroon, I’ll have to give you that, but if you think that’s all, you are sorely mistaking.” Now she would have to get serious and that usually never boded well for her opponents, this man would learn soon enough. One hand moved to one of the small energy distributors on her elbows, small wires moving from it to her finger tips via the gloves she constantly wore, all in a way that did not slow her down in the least. With a thought what seemed like a claw of energy extended from her right pointer finger, long and thin as it buzzed. It was time that she got serious, otherwise this guy would just end up killing her with little problem.
Sure he had disarmed her but she had more weapons than that. The metallic handle had fallen to the ground and somehow switched off. ” I guess I have to get serious.”
Her body tried to move out of the way from the attack but the elbow was far too swift, catching her in the chin as she tried to move and knocking the sense out of her. Blood came from her tongue, teeth having bit into it but not deep enough to bite it off or anything, followed by another powerful stroke that sent her reeling a few feet as blood gushed from her nose that was likely to have been broken from the immense amount of strength behind that blow. Her head was spinning as her back made contact with the ground, cold concrete feeling nice.
All she saw for the moment was the blue sky empty of clouds mostly but it didn’t take long for her to regain her senses. It only took a second for her body to regain control as she leapt to her feet, blood staining her porcelain white skin as eyes the same color as the crimson fluid glared at the man. ”Looks like this guy is tougher than I thought.” She muttered to herself, wiping the blood from her face, though it only ended up staining her gauntlets, something that would agitate her later.
”Nice move Maroon, I’ll have to give you that, but if you think that’s all, you are sorely mistaking.” Now she would have to get serious and that usually never boded well for her opponents, this man would learn soon enough. One hand moved to one of the small energy distributors on her elbows, small wires moving from it to her finger tips via the gloves she constantly wore, all in a way that did not slow her down in the least. With a thought what seemed like a claw of energy extended from her right pointer finger, long and thin as it buzzed. It was time that she got serious, otherwise this guy would just end up killing her with little problem.
Sure he had disarmed her but she had more weapons than that. The metallic handle had fallen to the ground and somehow switched off. ” I guess I have to get serious.”
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by Jack Maroon December 2nd 2012, 5:36 pm
And in an instant, his opponent had been floored. Now, in an uncivilized world where the strong prey on the weak, and where there's no honor even among psychopath killers, Jack would've leapt onto the woman the moment she hit the floor, brutally beaten her and consequently had his way with her before gruesomely ending her miserable existence.
Luckily for Agent Reaper, Jack was entirely unaware of the fact that this hypothetical world is actually the reality, and he still clung to the misconception that there is in deed such a thing as honor among psychopath killers, err, warriors.
Of course it would also be utter folly to attribute Jack Maroon with such traits as 'noble' or 'honorable'. If a man is to be judged by his intentions rather than his actions, then there are exceedingly few situations in which Jack Maroon could actually be described as 'a good man'.
A deep chuckle escaped his throat, gradually increasing into a fit of menacing laughter that seemed surprisingly controlled. "First blood, babe. God I love that feeling."
He looked at the blood on his hands, Reaper's blood, with an intense pride. He paced around a little bit while talking, as the girl recovered herself and began to speak. Unfortunately Jack had already stopped listening.
Just like before, Jack dashed forward with a sudden burst of immense speed, breaking the sound barrier. This time however, his attack was not a lunge, and certainly not in a straight line. He moved in a zigzag pattern, flitting about the now-abandoned street, laughing all the while. When he got close enough to Reaper, he moved in and began to slash at her ferociously with the two beam sabers; the brutality of the attacks were only matched by the skill with which they were executed, each attack linking up with the former perfectly and giving way to the next. At this point, Reaper's only chance would most likely be to try and somehow disarm the berserking master of speed and skill. Whoever thought it was a good idea to give Jack Maroon dual-wielding laser swords was probably not thinking straight.
Luckily for Agent Reaper, Jack was entirely unaware of the fact that this hypothetical world is actually the reality, and he still clung to the misconception that there is in deed such a thing as honor among psychopath killers, err, warriors.
Of course it would also be utter folly to attribute Jack Maroon with such traits as 'noble' or 'honorable'. If a man is to be judged by his intentions rather than his actions, then there are exceedingly few situations in which Jack Maroon could actually be described as 'a good man'.
A deep chuckle escaped his throat, gradually increasing into a fit of menacing laughter that seemed surprisingly controlled. "First blood, babe. God I love that feeling."
He looked at the blood on his hands, Reaper's blood, with an intense pride. He paced around a little bit while talking, as the girl recovered herself and began to speak. Unfortunately Jack had already stopped listening.
"You feel like you're on top of the world, and nothing can go wrong."
He crouched down and picked up the weapon he had earlier managed to knock out of the girl's hands in a daring maneuver.
"You feel yourself overflowin' with hubris, with arrogance, and you try to knock some sense into your thick skull."
He began to juggle the two handles from hand to hand, first slowly, but gradually increasing in speed until it became a blur.
"But there's no more room for sense in there. Just blood......Now, you say you're going to get serious. That's good. That's real good. I want you to. Because if you don't...."
The juggling stopped. The blades of energy extended from their handles simultaneously, the larger sword in his right and the smaller in his left.
"You'll die."
He crouched down and picked up the weapon he had earlier managed to knock out of the girl's hands in a daring maneuver.
"You feel yourself overflowin' with hubris, with arrogance, and you try to knock some sense into your thick skull."
He began to juggle the two handles from hand to hand, first slowly, but gradually increasing in speed until it became a blur.
"But there's no more room for sense in there. Just blood......Now, you say you're going to get serious. That's good. That's real good. I want you to. Because if you don't...."
The juggling stopped. The blades of energy extended from their handles simultaneously, the larger sword in his right and the smaller in his left.
"You'll die."
Just like before, Jack dashed forward with a sudden burst of immense speed, breaking the sound barrier. This time however, his attack was not a lunge, and certainly not in a straight line. He moved in a zigzag pattern, flitting about the now-abandoned street, laughing all the while. When he got close enough to Reaper, he moved in and began to slash at her ferociously with the two beam sabers; the brutality of the attacks were only matched by the skill with which they were executed, each attack linking up with the former perfectly and giving way to the next. At this point, Reaper's only chance would most likely be to try and somehow disarm the berserking master of speed and skill. Whoever thought it was a good idea to give Jack Maroon dual-wielding laser swords was probably not thinking straight.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by The Bolt December 2nd 2012, 6:03 pm
There was change within the man, one that seemed to make him similar to her, a beast ready to spill blood. Exhilaration flowed throughout her as each word spilled from his lips, excitement speeding up her heartbeat until she swore it drowned out all sound except for an excited giggle that loosed through her lips. It was time that she got serious; it was time that she spilt his blood across the pavement and ripped his still beating heart from that chest. The pale white skin slowly began to take a red tint, steam rising from it as what seemed like an electrical charge emanated from the gauntlets on her hands as well as her boots. This was going to be the most fun that she had in a long while.
Once she had begun this process, there was only going to be about a minute at the most before her body would give out, until she would be left weaker than before and she had to kill him before that. Jack Maroon rushed her with his insane speed, eyes barely able to keep up with his mad rush and body moving to react to whatever he was planning, if there was even a plan within his head. Left leg moving back only a few inches her hands began to move with full speed as the thin blades all a meter long began to extend, jack already beginning his assault upon the albino warrior.
One slash form the weaker blade came across her shoulder, drawing a little blood but not enough to matter, the damage was minimal at best. The other one was more dangerous to her than the other one, her hand instinctively reaching out to bat away the large blade as it slashed out across her palm, blood coming out and splashing on the ground. Reaper let out a roar of rage as she prepared herself for a maneuver that was sure to work if she acted fast enough, body moving as she forced herself into a spin. The energy wires grew into the full length of 30 meters quick, a few more slashes came upon he body, though that wouldn't stop her.
Once she had begun this process, there was only going to be about a minute at the most before her body would give out, until she would be left weaker than before and she had to kill him before that. Jack Maroon rushed her with his insane speed, eyes barely able to keep up with his mad rush and body moving to react to whatever he was planning, if there was even a plan within his head. Left leg moving back only a few inches her hands began to move with full speed as the thin blades all a meter long began to extend, jack already beginning his assault upon the albino warrior.
One slash form the weaker blade came across her shoulder, drawing a little blood but not enough to matter, the damage was minimal at best. The other one was more dangerous to her than the other one, her hand instinctively reaching out to bat away the large blade as it slashed out across her palm, blood coming out and splashing on the ground. Reaper let out a roar of rage as she prepared herself for a maneuver that was sure to work if she acted fast enough, body moving as she forced herself into a spin. The energy wires grew into the full length of 30 meters quick, a few more slashes came upon he body, though that wouldn't stop her.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by Jack Maroon December 2nd 2012, 6:30 pm
Even in his state of bloodrage delirium, Jack took note of the changes his opponent went through; the skin reddening, the steam rising from her pores and the sparks of electricity discharging from her gauntlets and boots.
Especially the laser-bladed gloves could prove to be a nuisance, and the nature of her sudden physical changes remained a mystery to Jack. The girl was working hard to dodge his attacks, but several of his expertly aimed strikes managed to get through, drawing blood. Yet it wasn't the gusher Jack had expected. Had she become more resistant to damage all of a sudden. It seemed likely, but the thought was quickly stored away; it didn't change a thing. He still had to, no, wanted to take her down, and if she made that task more difficult that was fine by him. He relished the challenge, the opportunity to indulge his urge to kill, to fight.
It didn't matter to him that it was the only thing he knew how to do well. It didn't matter to him that afterwards he would feel empty again, and that all of his battles were pointless. Nothing mattered in the heat of battle, nothing but the battle itself.
And it was because of this narrowing of his mind that Jack saw a plan form in Reaper's movements. The tiniest movements of her muscles, the look in her eyes, the pace of her parrying, it carried a message.
Jack quickly kneeled down, avoiding the first spin of the energy wires by a hair. Of course it wouldn't be easy for Reaper to adjust the angle of her attack. Jack raised both blades in the air in order to halt the spinning lasers.The sheer force of her attack knocked the lesser sword out of Jack's hand.
In the small window this defensive maneuver had afforded him, Jack swiped at Reaper's knees with his free arm, using all the force he could muster in order to throw her down.
After that, it was mostly up to luck. Both of them would be taking the low ground, and would likely have to wrestle. Jack would try to get on top of Reaper the moment she fell, and then proceed to beat on her with all his might, having deactivated his saber in order not to cut himself up at such close quarters.
Especially the laser-bladed gloves could prove to be a nuisance, and the nature of her sudden physical changes remained a mystery to Jack. The girl was working hard to dodge his attacks, but several of his expertly aimed strikes managed to get through, drawing blood. Yet it wasn't the gusher Jack had expected. Had she become more resistant to damage all of a sudden. It seemed likely, but the thought was quickly stored away; it didn't change a thing. He still had to, no, wanted to take her down, and if she made that task more difficult that was fine by him. He relished the challenge, the opportunity to indulge his urge to kill, to fight.
It didn't matter to him that it was the only thing he knew how to do well. It didn't matter to him that afterwards he would feel empty again, and that all of his battles were pointless. Nothing mattered in the heat of battle, nothing but the battle itself.
And it was because of this narrowing of his mind that Jack saw a plan form in Reaper's movements. The tiniest movements of her muscles, the look in her eyes, the pace of her parrying, it carried a message.
Jack quickly kneeled down, avoiding the first spin of the energy wires by a hair. Of course it wouldn't be easy for Reaper to adjust the angle of her attack. Jack raised both blades in the air in order to halt the spinning lasers.The sheer force of her attack knocked the lesser sword out of Jack's hand.
In the small window this defensive maneuver had afforded him, Jack swiped at Reaper's knees with his free arm, using all the force he could muster in order to throw her down.
After that, it was mostly up to luck. Both of them would be taking the low ground, and would likely have to wrestle. Jack would try to get on top of Reaper the moment she fell, and then proceed to beat on her with all his might, having deactivated his saber in order not to cut himself up at such close quarters.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by The Bolt December 10th 2012, 4:42 pm
Even with the obvious change within her body,Jack Maroon was not discouraged in this battle but took t as a sign that he should only try harder to defeat her. He easily blocked her deadly attack with little trouble before casting the blade off and attacking Reaper with a ferocity that was almost frightening if she herself were not entrapt within her blood rage. This was a battle between two blood hungry monsters and there was only going to be one victor while the other was going to die.
Before she knew it,Reaper was on her back and the blows came like a rain down upon her;though there was little paint hat came with them. It was as if she were being rapidly beat with a spoon but that still hurt,especially at the speed in which this man dealt out these blows. It was as if she had no chance in stopping the hail of attacks that was being dealt out upon her.
Red eyes looked into the rage clouded orbs of Jack Maroons as she understood what drove this man,it was the same thing that drove her. That desire to end life and enjoy every minute of doing so. He was a killer just like she was and that made this fight all the more enjoyable but the kill somewhat bitter sweet. The wires had already retracted back into their proper wires and left Reaper with only her fists to protect herself from this monster that hammered away at her with his angry fists,something that she was sure would serve little when her short boost of power deserted her. Blood slowly began to flow once against from her nose as more blows rained down upon her fair skin,most likely causing multiple bruises upon her visage. She could not allow him to damage her any further.
Her legs moved into a positon in which she aimed to kick the man off with a well placed thrust of both legs. It was likely to work with the quickness of her movement and how engrossed he was in his attacks. Reaper just wanted the rabid man off of her,to end the attacks now raining upon her body,not only her face anymore. A pain coursed through her muscles all at once as she quickly tried to kick him with all of her might. The boost was beginning to reach its limits.
Before she knew it,Reaper was on her back and the blows came like a rain down upon her;though there was little paint hat came with them. It was as if she were being rapidly beat with a spoon but that still hurt,especially at the speed in which this man dealt out these blows. It was as if she had no chance in stopping the hail of attacks that was being dealt out upon her.
Red eyes looked into the rage clouded orbs of Jack Maroons as she understood what drove this man,it was the same thing that drove her. That desire to end life and enjoy every minute of doing so. He was a killer just like she was and that made this fight all the more enjoyable but the kill somewhat bitter sweet. The wires had already retracted back into their proper wires and left Reaper with only her fists to protect herself from this monster that hammered away at her with his angry fists,something that she was sure would serve little when her short boost of power deserted her. Blood slowly began to flow once against from her nose as more blows rained down upon her fair skin,most likely causing multiple bruises upon her visage. She could not allow him to damage her any further.
Her legs moved into a positon in which she aimed to kick the man off with a well placed thrust of both legs. It was likely to work with the quickness of her movement and how engrossed he was in his attacks. Reaper just wanted the rabid man off of her,to end the attacks now raining upon her body,not only her face anymore. A pain coursed through her muscles all at once as she quickly tried to kick him with all of her might. The boost was beginning to reach its limits.
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Re: Maroonian Misadventures
by Jack Maroon December 19th 2012, 5:35 am
Jack had lost all control. There was a significant difference between the man he now was and the man he had once been when he had first begun. Back then, he did what he did for fun; it was the thrill of battle, the feeling of being in control of both his own life and that of his opponents. He fought because he believed zealously that it was his purpose, his destiny to do so, and become the warrior he had always wanted to be.
Now all that remained of this attitude was but a distant echo, a distorted reflection of a carefree past. Pounding his fists onto the face of this girl, his current enemy in a long line of predecessors, there was no enjoyment, no meaning. An aimless rage dominated his mind and body, borne from a desperation to salvage anything that resembled the confident sense of purpose he had once held and the bliss he used to feel in combat.
But he could find no such thing.
At some point in the struggle, his sunglasses had either broken or just fallen off, exposing his eyes to another for the first time in years. They were wide-open with that maniac expression that betrayed his feelings; despite all his strengths and abilities, he felt powerless, no longer able to commit to his old persona but also unable to let it go.
The sight of his opponent only fueled his rage further. For a moment there, as her stare met his, he saw some semblance of himself in there. It didn't seem like she was doing this for any reason in particular. Was she forced by some shady organization? She sure as hell didn't seem reluctant to fight, or fearful in the least, so that was very unlikely. Did she fight out of conviction, out of a sense of wrong and right? No. Her attitude was uncaring and aggressive, and the straightforwardness of it all erased all possibility of a deeper moral drive behind her actions.
Then, did she enjoy this? Or was this all she knew in life, just like him.
It seemed she had realized his attacks were unlikely to cease any time soon, and despite her toughness the damage still soaked through her defenses. A well-placed kick was delivered with both her legs in an attempt to move him off of her. Jack hadn't seen it coming, but wouldn't let her off this easily. In a last ditch effort to do some damage, he grabbed tight hold of her laser-wire gloves while being kicked off. If he could rip off those weapons he'd make this a lot easier on himself. No more stupid toys. Toys are for babies.
If she tried to resist his pull, maybe it'd cripple some of her fingers if he succeeded in pulling off the gauntlets.
Either way, the kick connected, and sent him flying off of the girl and slamming right into a car. Jack let out a wheeze and a cough, and instinctively moved his hand to his stomach. He had underestimated her strength, and overestimated his own durability. Despite his unnatural capacity to resist physical damage, he wasn't used to getting hit, especially not by forces equal to his own. It had always been easy for him to dodge attacks, and now he was paying the price for that. Still, it wasn't anything that would slow him down significantly. He was made of tougher stuff than that.
"Is that all you can do?! Why are you even fighting, why are you fucking here?! Why?! Why?!" Jack began to shout at his opponent while recovering from the damage.
"You want to win? You think that's going to change a thing? It won't! It won't!"
There was no more teasing mockery in his voice, no malice or enthusiasm. If anything, he seemed sad, angry at her for something, or angry at himself. It was likely hard to tell, both for himself and this girl who did not even know him.
Despite his outburst, he expected no return of words, and was ready to continue the battle if his opponent pressed him further. He wasn't worried. He couldn't lose. Not against someone like her. Someone like him.
Now all that remained of this attitude was but a distant echo, a distorted reflection of a carefree past. Pounding his fists onto the face of this girl, his current enemy in a long line of predecessors, there was no enjoyment, no meaning. An aimless rage dominated his mind and body, borne from a desperation to salvage anything that resembled the confident sense of purpose he had once held and the bliss he used to feel in combat.
But he could find no such thing.
At some point in the struggle, his sunglasses had either broken or just fallen off, exposing his eyes to another for the first time in years. They were wide-open with that maniac expression that betrayed his feelings; despite all his strengths and abilities, he felt powerless, no longer able to commit to his old persona but also unable to let it go.
The sight of his opponent only fueled his rage further. For a moment there, as her stare met his, he saw some semblance of himself in there. It didn't seem like she was doing this for any reason in particular. Was she forced by some shady organization? She sure as hell didn't seem reluctant to fight, or fearful in the least, so that was very unlikely. Did she fight out of conviction, out of a sense of wrong and right? No. Her attitude was uncaring and aggressive, and the straightforwardness of it all erased all possibility of a deeper moral drive behind her actions.
Then, did she enjoy this? Or was this all she knew in life, just like him.
It seemed she had realized his attacks were unlikely to cease any time soon, and despite her toughness the damage still soaked through her defenses. A well-placed kick was delivered with both her legs in an attempt to move him off of her. Jack hadn't seen it coming, but wouldn't let her off this easily. In a last ditch effort to do some damage, he grabbed tight hold of her laser-wire gloves while being kicked off. If he could rip off those weapons he'd make this a lot easier on himself. No more stupid toys. Toys are for babies.
If she tried to resist his pull, maybe it'd cripple some of her fingers if he succeeded in pulling off the gauntlets.
Either way, the kick connected, and sent him flying off of the girl and slamming right into a car. Jack let out a wheeze and a cough, and instinctively moved his hand to his stomach. He had underestimated her strength, and overestimated his own durability. Despite his unnatural capacity to resist physical damage, he wasn't used to getting hit, especially not by forces equal to his own. It had always been easy for him to dodge attacks, and now he was paying the price for that. Still, it wasn't anything that would slow him down significantly. He was made of tougher stuff than that.
"Is that all you can do?! Why are you even fighting, why are you fucking here?! Why?! Why?!" Jack began to shout at his opponent while recovering from the damage.
"You want to win? You think that's going to change a thing? It won't! It won't!"
There was no more teasing mockery in his voice, no malice or enthusiasm. If anything, he seemed sad, angry at her for something, or angry at himself. It was likely hard to tell, both for himself and this girl who did not even know him.
Despite his outburst, he expected no return of words, and was ready to continue the battle if his opponent pressed him further. He wasn't worried. He couldn't lose. Not against someone like her. Someone like him.
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