The world of comic books and strips has a number of well established paradigms for when the hero is about to whip out of serious can of whoop-ass. For Popeye,
the whoop ass comes with a can of spinach; and perhaps a bit of lubrication with Olive Oyl. The Thing cries out that it is clobbering time; one can only hope
that this is never heard coming from the water closet at the Baxter building. Wolverine growls something about being the best he is at what he does; before
going out of his tiny little mind in a berserk rage. Mighty Mouse calls out that he is indeed coming to save the day; with or without accompaniment by Andy
Kaufman. Andy Kaufman doesn't say much of anything these days, unless he is shuffling off somewhere doing his zombie best, muttering brains and wrestling
luchadors.
I didn't do any of these things.
Part of it was purely practical. I was in no position to put forth a sensational battle cry; shorts and a now torn, blood and bowel stained t-shirt were too
much to try and overcome. I could have called forth the best battle phrase since Alexander the Great uttered his, in an instant becoming Great, rather than
Alexander, Phil's kid; and it still could not overcome the fact that I looked like an utter berk.
Part of it was extremely practical. I wasn't there to amuse comic book readers or Saturday morning cartoon enthusiasts. I was there to survive. To win. To
render my opponent utterly incapable of continuing hostilities.
Exacalibastard on Virtue is built as a willpower scrapper; in City of Heroes parlance, all my toggles had just switched on. The reality was very different. My
muscles had changed. I knew that my strength had increased by several orders of magnitude. My lungs were drawing in air, oxygen extracted and burned with
greater efficiency. My perception of time skewed slightly. It still moved on as it always did, but I was reacting to my perception of it faster.
The angel came in again, intent on finishing me off. A fast horizontal strike targeted to take my head cleanly off at the shoulders. Cleanly? No. I suspect it
would spray. A lot. I staggered, letting him think I was still reeling in pain, then moved. I let my swords vanish and stepped inside his swing. My right hand
slapped into the angel's chest and slid up. As soon as my fingertips touched the glottal, they pushed in and down. My left hand closed on the pommel of his
sword. I twisted the pommel towards his thumb and my fingers drove him down to the ground.
The glottal is a very important control point. Press on it and the target will go to great lengths to get away from you; you can use that natural reaction and
guide it. In this case, towards the floor. He fell backwards, and I heard a loose, ugly crack as the long bones in one of his wings broke. His sword came free
from his hand as he fell. I jerked it so the grip slip neatly into my palm. Then I drove the sword through the angel and into the floor. The polished concrete
underneath broke as the steel crashed through it, cracks spreading outwards. I left him there. It was a nature museum. Someone would get around to labeling
him.
Then I entered the dinosaur exhibit.
And started laughing.
the whoop ass comes with a can of spinach; and perhaps a bit of lubrication with Olive Oyl. The Thing cries out that it is clobbering time; one can only hope
that this is never heard coming from the water closet at the Baxter building. Wolverine growls something about being the best he is at what he does; before
going out of his tiny little mind in a berserk rage. Mighty Mouse calls out that he is indeed coming to save the day; with or without accompaniment by Andy
Kaufman. Andy Kaufman doesn't say much of anything these days, unless he is shuffling off somewhere doing his zombie best, muttering brains and wrestling
luchadors.
I didn't do any of these things.
Part of it was purely practical. I was in no position to put forth a sensational battle cry; shorts and a now torn, blood and bowel stained t-shirt were too
much to try and overcome. I could have called forth the best battle phrase since Alexander the Great uttered his, in an instant becoming Great, rather than
Alexander, Phil's kid; and it still could not overcome the fact that I looked like an utter berk.
Part of it was extremely practical. I wasn't there to amuse comic book readers or Saturday morning cartoon enthusiasts. I was there to survive. To win. To
render my opponent utterly incapable of continuing hostilities.
Exacalibastard on Virtue is built as a willpower scrapper; in City of Heroes parlance, all my toggles had just switched on. The reality was very different. My
muscles had changed. I knew that my strength had increased by several orders of magnitude. My lungs were drawing in air, oxygen extracted and burned with
greater efficiency. My perception of time skewed slightly. It still moved on as it always did, but I was reacting to my perception of it faster.
The angel came in again, intent on finishing me off. A fast horizontal strike targeted to take my head cleanly off at the shoulders. Cleanly? No. I suspect it
would spray. A lot. I staggered, letting him think I was still reeling in pain, then moved. I let my swords vanish and stepped inside his swing. My right hand
slapped into the angel's chest and slid up. As soon as my fingertips touched the glottal, they pushed in and down. My left hand closed on the pommel of his
sword. I twisted the pommel towards his thumb and my fingers drove him down to the ground.
The glottal is a very important control point. Press on it and the target will go to great lengths to get away from you; you can use that natural reaction and
guide it. In this case, towards the floor. He fell backwards, and I heard a loose, ugly crack as the long bones in one of his wings broke. His sword came free
from his hand as he fell. I jerked it so the grip slip neatly into my palm. Then I drove the sword through the angel and into the floor. The polished concrete
underneath broke as the steel crashed through it, cracks spreading outwards. I left him there. It was a nature museum. Someone would get around to labeling
him.
Then I entered the dinosaur exhibit.
And started laughing.