Prygus vs swicked (Closed)

[Prygus]

(Theme)

The well dressed man placed his cane onto the durasteel floor of the room, making an audible impact. The sound echoed around the roughly circular room as a finely crafted dress-shoe followed the cane, also creating a clicking sound. The rest of the man followed, stepping out of the aperture in the blaster scored wall of the arena. Aaramis Voross lowered his unoccupied left hand into his coat and drew out a well-made pocket watch. Glancing over its face, he listened carefully to the sound of hissing behind him as the durasteel opening sealed itself. Glancing up at the many cameras scattered upon the ceiling and walls of the room, recessed so as to maintain a smooth surface, the gentleman leaned back onto the wall, relaxing his posture. His gaze shifted onto the opposite side of the arena, approximately fifteen meters away. Waiting for his opponent, the young man replaced his pocket watch and began preparing his pipe, his eyes never leaving the opposite entryway.

 

[Checkerboard]

The opposite door hissed open almost immediately in retort. Out of it stepped a much rougher-looking man, clean shaven but with thoroughly unkempt hair. Thick, grimy black body armor covering all but his head, he strode casually into the arena, his armor’s accompanying helmet hanging on a hinge against his back and clicking with every step. Glancing about with a smile he waved to the cameras with his left hand, his right weighed down carrying a massive heavy repeater by a thick strap running the weapon’s length. Gravel crunched under his feet as he continued forward, seemingly taking no notice of his opponent, wrapped up in his own little world as he took in the arena as a whole.

Without any further warning floodlights above the two men blazed to life, turning the dark, heavily scarred fighting arena into a ring of light, micro energy shields buzzing to life just over each of the recessed cameras. The grin draining from his face to be replaced with one of relaxed focus, the man yanked the gun into the air. In the span of half a breath he quickly repositioned himself so that, as the weapon began to fall again, it would come to a rest balanced between his two arms. With his left he grasped the side handhold, steadying its sights directly in line with the man across from him. With his right he grabbed the rear handle, squeezing the trigger down hard. As the weapon began to whine to life as he braced himself, left foot leading, right foot behind, awaiting the weapon’s rather vicious recoil.

 

[Prygus]

And so today's specimen entered. Aaramis's pale blue optics flicked across the new arrival's armor, attempting to discern its potential weaknesses. His left arm, stopped in mid motion fro its path to his jacket pocket, and eventually, his pipe, fell limp, and then rose up to his hat. He competently spun his cane around with his right, placing it into the crook of his elbow as he tipped his head covering. Even as his opponent to be surveyed the room, the Gentleman came to two conclusions, and acted upon one.

Drawing out his pocket watch, now with his right hand, he simultaneously dropped the top hat to the floor, carefully aligning so that it landed upside down, open to the arena. Twisting a small knob on the watch, he replaced it in his coat, and stared at his opponent, who now appeared to be readying his gun, adjusting its grip. Before the monstrosity made even a sound, Aaramis would be concealed by a plume of solid black smoke, that was rapidly expanding around the hat. The stylish headgear's high power dispersal fan made a loud humming sound, concealing the gentleman's steps as he trudged along with the advancing edge of smoke, allowing him to reposition in perfect stealth. As the almost louder sound of the repeater became audible, Aaramis was concealed safely in the smoke five feet to the right of his original position, and crouched. Now waiting, the man reached into his coat for his eye-piece.

 

[Checkerboard]

The repeater roared with the power and ferocity of a krayt dragon, spewing a spray of brilliant yellow and orange slugs directly into the cloud. Hardly a precision instrument the stream rocketed into the billowing black smoke in a wide enough spread to of covered the man inside entirely had he stayed in one spot. Almost immediately Jo began panning to the right, then left, and back again. Filling the breadth of the cloud with red hot globs of screaming high speed metal, the retorts rippling across his body as the repeater began to heat up in his arms, driving him slowly backwards.

 

[Prygus]

(OOC: Sorry for the delay. Shouldn't happen again.)

And it began. Nearly physically knocked back by the entering roar of the beastly repeater, Aaramis dropped to the ground, feeling the heat of the maelstrom of liquid metal passing by to his left. He felt rather than heard the torrent moving back and forth, for by this point his hearing was very much gone. His groping hand finally found his eye-piece, and he raised it to his left eye. Slipping the monocle into place, the world became dark, but then bright. The eye-piece's thermal vision kicked in, giving the Gentleman a clear view of his opponent, even as the river of metal passed over, only a few stray rounds dropping low enough to threaten him, and none connecting. The armored warrior's unaimed rounds continued off to the side, making their sweep across.

Now prepared, Aaramis drew his bolt-action pistol from is holster on his hip and began to screw his cane onto the end, lengthening the barrel significantly. Still prone in the rapidly expanding smoke, which now covered about one third of the room, Aaramis drew a bead on the man's neck, carefully lining up the shot. He had earlier concluded

the Gentleman came to two conclusions

that the man's armor was weak at the neck, and by aiming below the helmet, a successful shot was almost guaranteed to be a kill. The Gentleman took the shot.

 

[Checkerboard]

The heavy repeater was already starting to glow slightly, waves of heat radiating out from it, its internal cooling systems unable to sustain the weapon for much longer than a single ammo cartage, half of which had already been poured into the cloud. Jo was already considering alternative strategies to get his target out of cover. Panning left for the third time he barely caught it out of the corner of his eye; the slug blazing directly at him. A combination of the weapon’s excessive discharge of heat skewing his thermal profile, the weapon’s absurd kickback slowly driving him back, and that slight forewarning came together when the slug, aimed with the precision of a veteran sniper, smashed against the right side of his neck. Armor gave way just enough to lodge a sharp shard into the edge of his neck.

His trachea, spinal cord, major arteries and veins luckily remained undamaged. Despite, it hurt and immediately began bleeding heavily around the entry point. The shock caused both Jo and the gun to drop slightly, Jo quickly shifting his footing so that the barrel would come to rest hard on his left knee. Immediately he zeroed in on the approximate location of the sniper, blasting away and being sure to cover the ground area as well. As almost an afterthought his left hand, now free, came down to his belt to grasp a thermal detonator, dial it up to maximum payload and hurl it at his enemy. Before it even hit ground it would inevitably be hit by the spray of molten metal and, if not fry Jo’s adversary, at least blow away a majority of the smoke. Thermal detonators were, after all, clean-burning explosives.

 

[Prygus]

The Gentleman pulled back the bolt, ejecting the spent cartridge, and sliding a new one automatically into the chamber, the gun's mechanics working like clockwork. As if the man using the gun followed the same principal, the gun's barrel shifted, almost imperceptibly, as the failed kill shot became evident. The weapon's sights fell onto the brightest heat signature visible, as Aaramis Voross turned to stop his opponent's likely retaliation. Even as the weapon came to rest on the armored man's knee, a second loud retort would fill the room. The monster repeater would only have time to fire two rounds before it would be struck.

Normally, the repeater's metal substance would deflect any incoming round, but now, this was not the case. If the sniper round struck the firing chamber of the gun, where it was aimed, being the greatest source of heat, it would be catastrophic to the heat weakened, high temperature metals. The integrity of the firing chamber would thus be broken, and the high pressures associated with combustion would rip it apart, rendering the gun useless.

(OOC: I assumed that you would want to respond, so I ended my post before the thermal detonator would be thrown. If you still want to throw it, put it in your next post.)

 

[Checkerboard]

(OOC: I'm not sure I buy that. The gun, although at a slight angle, is facing your character nearly head on. If that shot was far enough to one side that it could made a solid impact that might work, but to hit the firing chamber at the rear of the barrel through the hail of slugs? The shot is probably impacting at an angle of only three or four degrees. I can't imagine the impact could be little more than glancing)

Jo didn’t even register the shot, the slug flying at the firing chamber at a terrible angle. The gun itself was surrounded by a shell of solid permasteel in which the cooling system performed its duties. Even the gentleman’s shot, aimed again with the precision of a veteran sniper, did little but dent the side of the massive firearm, ricocheting back to clip the edge of the heavy armor that adorned Jo’s right arm. Entirely unfazed Jo continued his movements, swiveling the gun in on the gentleman, the heavy weapon blazing and a thermal detonator soaring.