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And what was a workout it was.
They were supposed to steal something, some
mechanical whizmo-gizmo codes to some dumb
ray. Honestly Quaxo stopped listening to their
informant's babbling a long time ago, but then
the sounds of firefights appear the minute they
step into the warehouse and his expression changes
to a sinister one. He knows those sounds better
than anyone and with a roar his men attack.
It was a small group, about 100 men. Probably
night shift grunts but that didn't matter. They
were terrible opponents against his men anyway
without their little toys. But boy was it fun to
beat them. All of his rage from the Kill match
returned and he saw red as he imagined that
boy's dumbfounded expression.
As though he didn't know how a kill went.
The first one to stand in his way was accidentally
thrown there but he pounced before the kid could
move. It would be a knock out run today he could
tell. He gave him a rapid succession of punches,
quick as lightning before whirling on his next victims.
His boys know to get out of the way when he starts
hurling people, the muscles rippling under his neon
fur as he hefts two grunts up and knocks their heads
together with a resounding CRACK. They drop like flies.
He leaps into the fray. "COME ON! FIGHT ME!"
In the end none of them stood a chance. As his group
went off to get the damned codes he relaxed looking
over the field of knocked out, bloodied grunts. "Takin
it in sir?" Ah Grinner, a cheeky lil grunt of his own. He
nods with a hum of satisfaction. "It's always a good fight
when your muscles burn."
"Take it ya don't get many good fights then?"
"Maybe once...but those days are long gone."
Grinner hums appreciating the view. "Well choppers up
right now, sir." Quaxo nods and takes the rare moment
to think. Dumb Bear...
[font © fontmeme.com
"Feel it Still" © Portugal. The Man
images belong to rightful owners]
They were supposed to steal something, some
mechanical whizmo-gizmo codes to some dumb
ray. Honestly Quaxo stopped listening to their
informant's babbling a long time ago, but then
the sounds of firefights appear the minute they
step into the warehouse and his expression changes
to a sinister one. He knows those sounds better
than anyone and with a roar his men attack.
It was a small group, about 100 men. Probably
night shift grunts but that didn't matter. They
were terrible opponents against his men anyway
without their little toys. But boy was it fun to
beat them. All of his rage from the Kill match
returned and he saw red as he imagined that
boy's dumbfounded expression.
As though he didn't know how a kill went.
The first one to stand in his way was accidentally
thrown there but he pounced before the kid could
move. It would be a knock out run today he could
tell. He gave him a rapid succession of punches,
quick as lightning before whirling on his next victims.
His boys know to get out of the way when he starts
hurling people, the muscles rippling under his neon
fur as he hefts two grunts up and knocks their heads
together with a resounding CRACK. They drop like flies.
He leaps into the fray. "COME ON! FIGHT ME!"
In the end none of them stood a chance. As his group
went off to get the damned codes he relaxed looking
over the field of knocked out, bloodied grunts. "Takin
it in sir?" Ah Grinner, a cheeky lil grunt of his own. He
nods with a hum of satisfaction. "It's always a good fight
when your muscles burn."
"Take it ya don't get many good fights then?"
"Maybe once...but those days are long gone."
Grinner hums appreciating the view. "Well choppers up
right now, sir." Quaxo nods and takes the rare moment
to think. Dumb Bear...
[font © fontmeme.com
"Feel it Still" © Portugal. The Man
images belong to rightful owners]
┏xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx┓♠ Wileyfangs ♠ Quaxo ♠ Male ♠ Writing
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- It was ridiculous! RIDICULOUS!
How could such a burly,
strong creature be afraid of the kill?!
That kind of mercy would never have
been given by one of his boys, but when
you're in Star Nova, anything can happen.
That doesn't mean it SHOULD though! The
very thought grants him a headache and
the Robotic next to him pours him another
drink in his flute glass.
He's staring at footage of the THAT match,
willing the man to finish his opponent. But
inevitably he doesn't. The sheer remembrance
that he doesn't -no that he WOULDN'T-
nearly has Quaox seeing red all over again!
It's a KILL match! You don't go to a KILL match
and not KILL anything! The crowd had been
just as appalled by the fact as he was. Such
loyal fans not getting their kill! How disgraceful!
The glass threatens to shatter in his hand
as he seethes but then quietly takes a breath.
His Alloys have a job to do today.
He can work out his problems then.
