Admin
Administrator 
Posts: 15
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Room 8
Sept 25, 2015 20:29:47 GMT -5
Post by Admin on Sept 25, 2015 20:29:47 GMT -5
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Room 8
Sept 29, 2015 0:43:49 GMT -5
Post by kuguthorn on Sept 29, 2015 0:43:49 GMT -5
kugutsu shake pom poms
"go"
"fight"
"win"
but kugutsu was alone???
very sad
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aitsu
New Member
Posts: 4 
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Room 8
Sept 30, 2015 13:37:34 GMT -5
Post by aitsu on Sept 30, 2015 13:37:34 GMT -5
The premature white haired man walked into the arena from his side's entrance and traveled straight towards his starting position. He did not give the audience his attention and he did not take in a long breath of air in the open room. He did not care. This tournament was not for him, the title of first place or second place or any ranking didn't matter to him. Being from Prometheus, his goal was simple on paper: Slay Gods, take them out of the picture.
The man did not look up towards the sky, but down towards the ground. He made note of the soil, how light the dirt was, everything that mattered. His methods were assassination. If he had it his way, the target would never see him, never even know. Against Gods, this was rarely the case, so his style had to evolve into a system of assassination that was open and known to the target.
A system of assassination that could kill that which could not be killed, that was what it meant to be in Prometheus.
The man adjusted the tie of his suit, an empty gesture. His tie was perfectly fine, nor would he have cared if it wasn't. The hollow movement was only there to make his opponent misjudge his character.
Before arriving, it was made clear who the targets were, and this first opponent was one of them. It would be a good warm up match, being that the debriefing stated that this target was in a weaker tier of Gods. The man was sure of his victory, it was inevitable to him. But he did not complain, he did not curse the match-up for being boring. This wasn't for fun, or for glory, it was for money and a future. It was his job, his life. How could someone who was here to win a tournament defeat someone who had years of experience in killing his kind?
A gust of wind blew, shifting his hair to the left. His skin did not care, his grey eyes looked forward with determination but no light to accompany it. What number God would this be? How many has he killed already? The man long since lost count, if he had even counted in the beginning. Only one thing was sure, he never felt sympathy for them. Not even once.
The man finally opened his mouth. "Fighting you? I suppose you haven't a chance....."
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Room 8
Sept 30, 2015 17:11:49 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by EmeraldEyedGunner on Sept 30, 2015 17:11:49 GMT -5
The white haired Mage walks out onto the field the roar of the crowd fill his ears as the lights blinded him. Rubbing his eyes he looks out at the crowd and smiles a bit rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. "Well well they sure make a guy feel welcomed." He said to himself making his way to center stage his long dark red trench coat was buttoned closed but the bottom flaps swayed with the wind. His black boots kicked up dust as he make his way to his opponent. This man had a strange vibe about him maybe it was the suit. Who the hell fought in a suit anyway? Looked expensive as hell to get torn up. May the guy was loaded with cash and could afford it? Taking another look at the white haired man he felt danger radiating from him which made him smile harder. I picked the right place to let off some steam I suppose he through to himself as he stopped ten feet away from his opponent holding his right hand out to to his side. His emerald eyes flash as a bright light flashes, a silver metaba model six unica revolver appears in his grip but unlike a normal revolver this one had to hammers and two triggers. "Nice to meet you buddy and forgive me in advance if I wreck that suit of yours." He let's his arm fall out to his side the holds his left hand out another flash of light appears and a black plated usp 45 hand gun appears in his left hand. "Even if I don't win your not leaving fight unscathed."
Letting his left hand fall in front of him sliding his right foot back slightly and rest his revolver on his right shoulder. "Names phantom by the way. And you are who? James Bond?" Chuckling softly to lighten the mood for himself mostly he wanted to see his opponent would react to his banter. He knew he had to watch out for him or anyone else for this matter. Rumor had it this place had people who weren't human or possessed abilities like he has but losing here would be a option.
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Nyfe
Administrator
Posts: 37
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Room 8
Sept 30, 2015 17:21:30 GMT -5
Post by Nyfe on Sept 30, 2015 17:21:30 GMT -5
Nyfe's voice echoed in the ears of the two men standing before eachother.
"Arena Eight, Aitsu verses BOOGIE POP PHANTOM. Begin."
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aitsu
New Member
Posts: 4
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Room 8
Sept 30, 2015 17:54:14 GMT -5
Post by aitsu on Sept 30, 2015 17:54:14 GMT -5
The man did not reply to the target, he did not even acknowledge his existence until the battle began. The moment it did, the assassin put strength into his legs and feet and jumped backwards. The jump carried him much further than someone would expect. As he drifted quickly in the other direction, the man moved his empty, gloved hands behind his back, as if hiding something that wasn't there in the first place. The man didn't take his eyes off the target for a moment, and soon he landed ten feet further from the target than he began, leaving approximately a twenty feet distance between them at that time.
When his feet made contact with the ground again, the man immediately flung his hands out from behind his back and aimed two handguns at the target. The plan was simple, this attack was to test how the target behaved defensively. Would the target assume that the bullets wouldn't reach him because of their distance, or would he play it safe? Would he block, dodge, reflect? It didn't matter. The bullets would make contact from this distance if nothing was done, but the man didn't expect them to connect.
The man fired two bullets from each gun, as he was trained to do.
Then, in the same movement, he slammed one foot into the ground. The dirt immediately exploded into a cloud of dust which covered the area that the man had stood in. All the while, the bullets were quickly making their way towards the target, the opponent.
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Room 8
Oct 1, 2015 19:24:29 GMT -5
via mobile
Post by EmeraldEyedGunner on Oct 1, 2015 19:24:29 GMT -5
Phantom sucks his teeth as he watches his opponent jump back . More ground he had to cover to get the bastard if he planned on going on the offensive . The sound of gun fire have him the instinct to move so diving off to the left he avoid the gun fire and at that time has he dived he pointed his handgun and opened fire ringing off five shots as he dove in direction the gun fire came fom. He was kinda surprised at the fact his opponent stomped up a cloud of dust. Obviously this guy has something In store for him or wanted to cover his movements if phantom decided to fire back at him. He lands and rolls to his feet aiming is revolver in front of him firing a bullet five feet away from him the with out turning fires a bullet behind him. Keeping his eyes and sense he clear he waited to see What his opponent had in mind for him. He would be ready to plot out his next move accordingly if needed be. He wouldn't underestimate anything his opponent would do since than nagging sense of danger started to bug him again. Just what was it about this guy that pull at him so much. He looked human enough but even so humans had their dangerous side just like any monster demon or paranormal thing he came across. Maybe he would get his answer soon or after the match .... If either of them were Alive after the match.
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aitsu
New Member
Posts: 4
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Room 8
Oct 1, 2015 21:00:02 GMT -5
Post by aitsu on Oct 1, 2015 21:00:02 GMT -5
Computers don't make mistakes, people make mistakes. People use the wrong formulas, add the wrong numbers, press the wrong buttons. The computers don't do any of that, they take the data and solve the problem they're told to. This is something even children are told.
The man was a machine of Prometheus.
The dust floated in the air like rose petals falling gently from above, rejected by both the heavens and the earth, stuck in the purgatory in between. The bullets that the man had fired missed and dug into the ground behind where he stood, as if cognizant of their task. The target's bullet traveled in the opposite direction and disappeared into the concealing mist of dirt, but then something happened. The bullet the target fired reappeared, this time traveling straight towards the target.
It must have been an awful, stomach turning feeling to see your own tool betray you. The bullet sliced through the purgatory that kept the roses still shuffling in the air, forcing every molecule out of its way, traveling faster than it had while it was under its original owner's control. Nothing was different, it looked exactly the same. The same color, the same size, it even had the same weight and texture. What had happened in the world beyond that cloud of dirt?
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