Tennie, as far as SB is considered, this thread shouldn't exist. Please don't reference it directly. For one thing, I'd prefer that they only see the second draft. For another, it punches holes in the fourth wall.
I'm having a hard enough time holding that together as it is.
I trust my solution meets with your approval, CD?
(I mean, come on! If I was going to crib from RWBY, I had to do it right.)
As funny as that would be, Rob, Animus don't work that way. Besides, this fight *is* relevant.
**********
"Ohh...", I said back, drawing the word out, making it sound like I'd just figured out what they were doing... and then set up Malleus in double Shooting Form. Quick as I could, I slid one barrel past the goons blocking my path, aimed the other at the miner that'd been bothering me, and fired off two blasts of mana.
The first one to hit splashed across the miner's pants. Judging by his facial expressions, he had just enough time to notice it, fear for his life, fear for his manhood, and then wonder why he was still alive... before the other burst of mana hit.
At this point, if an outside observer were to look into the saloon, they would've seen a kid in white and yellow dive over to the bar... shortly before seeing two big men knocked over like tenpins by a screaming miner. Said miner then proceeded to fall, crotch-first, out of one of the holographic windows at the front of the building, across the empty street, and through one of the (non-holographic) windows on the other side of the street, before tumbling to a halt inside that building.
I stood back up, knocking the dust off my hands, before casually respringing my barrier jacket clean. "...and another one bites the dust. Who's next?"
The miners, it turned out, were rather in a hurry to sit down and have their drinks at that point. Couldn't blame them, really- that was a bit more painful of a fate than I'd wanted to inflict. Man, I wish I'd known that was a real window. Would've aimed lower.
From outside the saloon, I heard a heavily-accented voice say "You are."
...no, I'm not. Who said that? Looking up, I saw a pair of figures standing in the street.
[SEARCH COMPLETE. TARGET SIGNATURES ARE NOT]-
[-not downtown. I know. Cancel the search.]
I blinked, doing a slightly-exaggerated double-take, and reached up to clean my ear out with a pinky finger. "...I'm sorry? What did you say?" Nobody got in my way as I walked out of the saloon, into the street, and out to a reasonable distance from my targets. "You said I was next? Are you aware of whom you are addressing?"
Without waiting for either of them to respond, I leaned forward, cupped one hand by my mouth, and stage-whispered "...that means 'Who the hell do you think I am?'"
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
I'm having a hard enough time holding that together as it is.
I trust my solution meets with your approval, CD?
(I mean, come on! If I was going to crib from RWBY, I had to do it right.)
As funny as that would be, Rob, Animus don't work that way. Besides, this fight *is* relevant.
**********
"Ohh...", I said back, drawing the word out, making it sound like I'd just figured out what they were doing... and then set up Malleus in double Shooting Form. Quick as I could, I slid one barrel past the goons blocking my path, aimed the other at the miner that'd been bothering me, and fired off two blasts of mana.
The first one to hit splashed across the miner's pants. Judging by his facial expressions, he had just enough time to notice it, fear for his life, fear for his manhood, and then wonder why he was still alive... before the other burst of mana hit.
At this point, if an outside observer were to look into the saloon, they would've seen a kid in white and yellow dive over to the bar... shortly before seeing two big men knocked over like tenpins by a screaming miner. Said miner then proceeded to fall, crotch-first, out of one of the holographic windows at the front of the building, across the empty street, and through one of the (non-holographic) windows on the other side of the street, before tumbling to a halt inside that building.
I stood back up, knocking the dust off my hands, before casually respringing my barrier jacket clean. "...and another one bites the dust. Who's next?"
The miners, it turned out, were rather in a hurry to sit down and have their drinks at that point. Couldn't blame them, really- that was a bit more painful of a fate than I'd wanted to inflict. Man, I wish I'd known that was a real window. Would've aimed lower.
From outside the saloon, I heard a heavily-accented voice say "You are."
...no, I'm not. Who said that? Looking up, I saw a pair of figures standing in the street.
[SEARCH COMPLETE. TARGET SIGNATURES ARE NOT]-
[-not downtown. I know. Cancel the search.]
I blinked, doing a slightly-exaggerated double-take, and reached up to clean my ear out with a pinky finger. "...I'm sorry? What did you say?" Nobody got in my way as I walked out of the saloon, into the street, and out to a reasonable distance from my targets. "You said I was next? Are you aware of whom you are addressing?"
Without waiting for either of them to respond, I leaned forward, cupped one hand by my mouth, and stage-whispered "...that means 'Who the hell do you think I am?'"
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.