Riverwalk Showdown

Jas

Jas

Exceptionally Common
Forum Moderator: Arena
The San Antonio Riverwalk is an iconic scene in the eponymous city. The river itself is only about ten to fifteen feet across and maybe six to eight feet deep. It is sunk into the streets of the city and surrounded on all sides by restaurants, shops, bars, and clubs. On this particular day, though, no signs of life could be detected, neither on the riverwalk nor on the streets above.

No one, that is, except for the wandering Jinn Abgal.

The mustachioed man sauntered beside the river, wearing cowboy boots which stood out under his white thawb, and in place of a traditional headdress, a large sombrero adorned his head. Carman had made a side wager for Abgal's pride, and Abgal had lost. So now, for at least the next thousand years, he had to wear this disgraceful attire.

A wizened female voice called out to him, and he saw a gold-adorned woman staring at him through a body-length mirror. "Lady Frigga," he said, and gently bowed his head, involuntarily reaching out to the brim of his sombrero to steady it.

"Carman has no shame, has she? Tell you what. If you win a battle against my champion, I'll take Carman's punishment off of you."

Abgal perked up, but then narrowed his eyes. "And if Miles should lose again?"

"Well, it's only right that we trade in kind."

The Jinn sighed. "Well, it cannot get worse, can it?" Abgal stepped through the mirror to join Odin's Queen.


As Abgal left through the mirror, Miles entered through it. Before him stood a blind man. Whispers from the mirror behind him said, "Fight!"

@Jas @TMITM
 
Blindfold's ears were not oblivious to the man in front of him, nor the tension that was in his steps. He also heard the whispered "Fight!" that came out of the mirror that had brought his adversary to him.
Blindfold reached out with his senses to try and hear anything that would give him an inkling of what the best path of action would be.
Blindfold felt the Man's mood sour as he realized what was going on. I am nobody's champion, he snarled, looking at Miles. Destroy him quickly, he said. Attack now.
Blindfold hesitated to follow the Man's advice, though he knew he probably should. However, Blindfold knew nothing about his opponent, so he decided, for now, to wait.
 
Miles' right hand reached down toward his gunbelt, but he did not draw. He maintained his hand there, at the ready, as he studied the mysterious figure in front of him. The gunslinger had no psychic ability to speak of, but he'd been in enough battles to recognize murderous intent, and this man had it in spades.

Yet he did not attack.

So, the gunslinger decided to honor this inexplicable armistice for a moment, but his hand was ever ready, in case his dark compadre decided to unleash all that bloodlust.

"Hail, traveler. I've been through one of these contests before. If neither of us takes action against the other, then they promise complete eradication of both of us.

"Hard to say if that's a bluff, but I'm not sure I'm willing to take that chance. The best I can tell, the people running this horror show have the juice to make that happen."
 
Blindfold nodded.
"I don't know, either. But I would guess we would have to fight."
Blindfold let his senses extend around him as he prepared to attack. The Ink in his eyes itched with the anticipation of blood. That, combined with the Man's giddyness for combat, resulted in the fact that, although he supressed it, Blindfold couldn't help a smirk. The Man chuckled.
Hey, Blindfold, do leopards have spots in their eyes, also?
Blindfold sprinted forward, ink stretching from the pools in his eyes, down the back of his neck, inside his jacket sleeve, and out of it, stretching behind him in preparation for the swing that he made towards his opponent's head, keeping wary of Miles' right-side gun in case he needed to dodge.
 
The gunslinger knew that the palaver wouldn't last forever, but he was honestly hoping for a bit longer.

His opponent was fast. So was Miles, but he knew that he'd want to hinder that speed before the fight progressed too far. Still, Miles had been on guard through the entire conversation, and stood ready for this attack. He still wasn't sure what sort of power this man possessed, but after fighting that demon prince before, Miles knew that he could not take anything for granted.

So, instead of blocking the strike, the gunslinger sidestepped and drew, simultaneously squeezing the trigger. The standard .50 lead slug exited the barrel and rushed toward Blindfold's left knee, propelled by a high-grain powder load. He hoped this would cause his opponent to retreat temporarily, but on the off-chance that Blindfold didn't dodge, the knee blow would be a great boon for Miles.

Still, Miles knew he needed some distance between them, and so he jumped backward about 10 feet and drew his left firearm.

5 left, incendiary; 4 right, standard, Miles almost unconsciously took stock of his ammunition.
 
Blindfold was anticipating the shot, and so dropped and rolled as the gunslinger shot, increasing his momentum just enough to roll past the bullet before coming back up and continuing to run, curving his path towards Miles' left, letting the Ink flow to his legs, augmenting his speed just a little bit further. Blindfold knew that he needed to close the distance quickly, as he was at a disadvantage without a significant ranged weapon. He would have one, if not for the tendency of ones he wielded to misfire. A lot.
Blindfold planned to fient slashing at Miles' head before dropping down and sweeping his leg.
 
Somehow, Miles' foe had gotten even faster, though the gunman had not yet figured out the mechanism for it. But he did know one thing.
Gunslingers aren't really built for defense.

Of course, knowing this doesn't help when you need to defend. But it does help you stay out of situations where you need to.

So when the blindfolded psychopath closed the gap and went to strike, Miles didn't try to block the feint. He even think to anticipate the feint and block the sweep. No, he jumped backwards, landing on his ass, and took his body out of the equation. Knowing that at the speed Blindfold was moving, momentum would keep him going for at least a foot, Antioch let fly one shot from each barrel at where he anticipated center mass would be. Another .50 slug issued from the right barrel, and a .50 hollow point shell came from the left. This hollow point was filled with alchemical fire and sealed with wax; upon impact, the wax would burst and the tincture within would ignite, effecting an incendiary round.

Again, Miles sought to widen the gap between them, and after landing on his ass in his escape attempt, he carried the momentum to roll backwards onto his feet, and took another 10-foot jump backwards.

4 left, 3 right he counted.
 
Blindfold had anticipated the incendiary bullet, but not the other one, so he dodged one bullet, but got hit in his right shoulder, falling backwards, rolling for recovery, and coming up crouching.
Ow, Blindfold thought. Heal, please.
All over it, The Man commented, and Blindfold felt a tendril of Ink crawl across his chest and starting to heal the wound, removing the bullet. Blindfold took a deep breath and re-centered his mind. The Gunslinger probably though he was a psychopath, but he was not. He simply knew that the Man would not let him die, and going to that level would kill the Gunslinger. Blindfold preferred to finish the fight now.
Want me to take over? The Man offered, smiling in Blindfold's mind.
no.
 
Blindfold had ceased his onslaught for a moment, and Miles was not one to waste the reprieve. He used his index fingers to flick out both cylinders to his pistols and went about reloading.

Through necessity, Miles had learned how to reload his guns one-handed; it was sort of part-and-parcel to successfully dual-wielding revolvers in life-or-death scenarios. with any degree of success. The routine was simple in theory, but difficult to execute. Open the cylinder. Dump the spent casings, using his fingers to retain those which had not been expended. Hold the pistols with the last three fingers on each hand, using thumb and forefinger to pluck a round from his bandolier and/or gunbelt, then deftly maneuver it into the cylinder. Close the chambers with two sharp flicks of the wrist, and he was good to go. Less than four seconds, typically, for a full reload, and less than two for this one.

One incendiary in the left, drawn from his gunbelt. Two armor-piercing rounds in the right, drawn from his bandolier.

Five in the left, incendiary, the gunslinger counted. Five in the left, first two AP
 
@Jas
I told you so, The Man remarked, a bit pretentiously. you missed the opportunity to set the pace of the battle.
The clicks and sounds that suggested that Miles was reloading did not escape Blindfold's ears, and also did not escape him the fact that he was at even more of a major disadvantage - as Miles' running out of ammunition was set back to the beginning. Blindfold didn't use guns, they never seemed to work for him, but he wished they would have, because he was at a major disadvantage here.
Then take them, The Man said. He's just a man. He relies on his equipment more than he should.
Blindfold tried to measure the distance between them, but found it hard because of his hearing -
About ten feet.
...thanks?
It might be a stretch, but we can make it.
...we?... nevermind.
Blindfold steeled himself, as it seemed Miles wasn't moving, against the sharp pain that he felt when the Ink pulled out the bullet that had been inside his shoulder. He jerked a little bit.
Hold still.
The Ink then stretched out of his jacket with the bullet and dropped it at Blindfold's feet before snaking back in.
Got it, The Man said as the Ink started to fill in the hole the bullet left, and started to change itself into Blindfold's skin cells to start to repair the damage, giving Blindfold a horrible itching sensation with the occasional sharp pang of pain.
...Couldn't you do it gentler?
No.
Blindfold wiped some of the ink that had dripped out from under his Blindfold with his sleeve, and then reached behind him and tightened it, smiling, hoping the intimidation factor was starting to set in.
 
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What. The. Fuck.

Miles could scarcely contain his shock as the tendril of dark fluid expelled the .50 caliber slug from the blind man's shoulder.

This... will be a tougher fight than I'd assumed, the gunslinger reasoned. I need tactical advantage. I need to find higher ground.

The San Antonio River carved a track through the downtown sector of the city, with the walking path upon which the fighters both stood about twenty feet below street level. Every city block, there was a staircase which led from the Riverwalk to the streets, and there was one such staircase about 100 feet behind the gunman.

He's fast, but I think I can make it, Antioch reasoned. But let's tilt the odds further into my favor. Using his thumb, Miles clicked the cylinder of his right pistol forward two shots in one smooth motion, putting a standard slug in front of the hammer.

Simultaneously, he fired two shots from his left in such rapid succession that most humans would not be able to differentiate two separate reports. Instead of aiming at center mass, though, Miles aimed at the ground about a foot in front of Blindfold, then directly under where the dark figure was standing.

As soon as the shells hit the pavement, the alchemist's fire within burst free, generating a column of flame. If Blindfold didn't retreat a few steps, the gunsmith couldn't fathom how he'd get out of this unscathed. Just for good measure, he targeted the man's heart with another .50 caliber slug from his right barrel.

He wasn't hopeful that this would be the shot that did him in, but he did hope that the pressure of the attack would push his adversary back and buy him a few extra seconds to reach the stairs.

Wasting no time, Miles made a break for it. Mentally, he tallied his shots. Two standard, two AP in the right. Three incendiary in the left.
 
@Jas
The fire exploded in front of Blindfold, startling him, instinctively throwing his hands up in an x, backing up a few steps while the Man berated him for his stupidity.
I've told you, He said, You have GOT to be aware of your surroundings.
Blindfold shook his head, shaking off his sudden surge of fear.
Fear is nothing but a distraction - a lie, The Man said. It is of no use to us.
Blindfold heard Miles let off a shot, and Blindfold whipped his body to the side, feeling the gust of air rushing past him.
As Miles ran, Blindfold felt a strange feeling from the Man, like a primal hunting instinct. Like something dogs have. The strange feeling of both excitement and satisfaction bled through their mental link, the back side of Blindfold's mind itself liquefying with the thrill of the hunt.
He's running, The Man said. Kill him.
Blindfold hesitated, then belted after Miles, despite taking somewhat of a cleverer approach, dashing up to the wall so that above him there was the streets where Miles was attempting to run to.
There was suddenly, in the great expanse of the void, a table, and Blindfold could see the Man offering his hand across it to him.
Let me take control, he won't resist me for long.
No, Blindfold said to the Man, but they both knew his will was waning. The longer he was in combat, the more likely it was that the Man would take control.
Blindfold scaled the wall quickly with the aid of the Ink, vaulting over the top, trying to cut Miles off.
 
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