Post by Terminally Chill on Nov 24, 2012 0:04:41 GMT -5
“Okay, let’s get into the warehouse ‘n then we’ll have to find Lockhart, wherever he is...”[/color]
“You idiot. He's in the 'off.' Whatever the hell that means...”
A chorus of slaps echoed through the courtyard as a second wave of face-palms overcame the wave of mercenaries. The group began to doubt what they really had to fear from the seemingly incompetent duo. The drunkard in the suit was only a name at this point and Oaklan had only displayed his strength against the cart driver, who could hardly be considered a formidable foe. Against an entire force of western bounty hunters, their chances appeared questionable. However, a unison of thuds soon swayed their notions. In the same moment, Beck and Oaklan had both dealt decisive blows against the army of goons. Oaklan's make-shift sword and Beck's steel shoe cleaved through the closest combatants, inciting the commencement of chaos.
Mercenaries threw themselves at the destructive duo with varying weapons, but many found themselves losing their senses as soon as they neared. The fighting instincts drilled into Beck for much of his life emerged through his intoxication, fending off the stream of attackers with vicious flurries of kicks, elbows, and headbutts that hurled them to the ground in groaning heaps. A trail of smoke followed behind the hammered hunter as he drunkenly swayed and weaved around attackers to deal them punishing blows. Beck's unorthodox evasion was hardly perfect, opponents landing solid strikes or a stray slash on him in the heat of the fight. The pain didn't seem to register in Beck's mind though as he continued to press on with a wild grin and bloodlust in his steely eyes. As the tide continued to be stemmed, Beck caught a flash of Oaklan's snowy hair behind him. While under different circumstances the savage swordsman would have been no different than Lockhart's lackeys, in this hunt the two were (reluctantly) comrades.
The bounty hunters found themselves back to back as they continued to carve through the ranks in their approach to the warehouse. Despite being weary partners, Beck and Oaklan managed to operate as a ferocious tandem machine. Bounty hunters and warehouse workers alike continued to careen across the courtyard, many discouraged by the monstrous whirlwind the pair of fighters had become. Beck and Oaklan were covering each others' backs with seamless precision. Regardless of which of the two they were targeting, any nearby mercenary was caught in the brutal barrage of blows. The pair of bounty hunters were two men who understood what a fight was; despite the mutual disdain, their fighting spirits expressed themselves in the same manner.
Beck and Oaklan neared their destination now, the commotion having moved in front of the warehouse's shutter. The method in which they would gain entrance into Lockhart's lair was unclear, but one thing was obvious: it wouldn't be quiet. As the drunk of the duo turned to face the steel shutter, an alarmingly large bounty hunter appeared in defense of the entrance. Beck broke away from Oaklan to engage the giant of a man, swaying to the side to narrowly avoid a gargantuan punch. The boozing bruiser acted with deadly speed, taking a forceful step from the knee of the brute to scale to his face in a flash. A skull-crushing knee lodged exploded into the colossus's cranium, suddenly being dragged into a second knee directly to the face from Beck's opposite leg. The bounty hunter let out an enraged cry of pain that was quickly eclipsed by Beck's barbaric battle cry as he unleashed a rocket-force kick squarely in the center of the man's broad chest.
“NUCLEAR MANTIS!”
Despite its ridiculous name, the combination was devastatingly effective. The mountainous mercenary reeled backward, airborne body slamming into the steel screen behind him. The metal sheet had no chance against the bounty hunter's weight and the kick's momentum, crumbling and ripping from its frame as soon as the man made contact. That was one way to open a door. Steel soles landed on the courtyard concrete once again, Beck stumbling for a second before gaining his swaying footing. A thick plume of smoke drifted above the man in the shabby suited before he turned to his accomplice and motioned toward the gaping maw of the warehouse.
“Shall we?” [/size][/blockquote]