Propensity To SMASH (John S., Squee, Speed Thread)

[Van]

Thief of breath

[/i]

---

Glowing white tears spilled into Tuvlan’s face from the creature’s eyes as it was punched violently in the throat, initially clamping its jaws more tightly into Tuvlan’s skull for a moment before it realized that it couldn’t breathe. Then, like a reverse bear trap, its jaws snapped open—needlelike teeth tearing themselves from the boy’s scalp—and it sucked in a shuddering, gurgling breath. The air would barely pass through its throat. More luminescent tears streamed down its sallow face as it tried to breathe and screech at the same time, failing miserably.

But that only seemed to get it more riled up. The claws around Tuvlan’s throat would clench tighter like x-acto knives slicing into the flesh, only terribly lucky for the boy that none of the ten fingernails happened to dig straight into an artery. Meanwhile, Experiment #J00329B reared its head back and forth in a violent frenzy of panicked suffocating, gnashing its bloody fangs, gasping for air. In a surge of adrenaline, the creature let go of Tuvlan’s throat and began to slash wildly, raking its claws across the boy’s arms and torso as if it were trying to dig into him.
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["Tuvlan"]

Head Trauma

Something hot and wet began to pour on the boy's face. Aside from his own blood, that was. But the wrenching that tore into the boy's head made the boy left arm shudder involuntarily... in an incredibly unnatural way. His suppressed pain was like white-hot blades, worse than any migraine and he finally roared out an agonized moan. But he kept his fist jammed into the creature's throat and the blades retreated---along with several tufts of his own hair.

Adrenaline was one of the things keeping the boy on edge, as he felt the knife-nails dig into his throat, drawing blood from him. The clack-clack-clacking next to his head, resonating and twirling back and forth was maddening. His elbows shook as he clenched his teeth until finally the creature finally withdrew through some miracle. The net still caught on him, the boy abruptly stood up---

---And nearly fell over, finding himself nearly tripping and falling to the side, as he struggled to get the net off.

Head trauma. He saw two of the creatures and two of the armored man in the corner. In a rage, his clenched teeth bared, a throaty snarl erupted out of his throat and into a roar.

He had had his brain poked out by one of the twins.

And he had been bitten far deeper, and far more intimately, with such violation that made this numbing pain almost laughable. He was made to be thoroughly conscious while this thing went straight for the kill. There was a dreadful difference in this creature's killing intent.

And when the boy was done snarling, and bleeding over his bared chest through his throat, if he was given even a spare second's respite, he'd finally undo the net over him and threw it over and onto the creature.

...And hopefully not miss either of toothy monsters.

[Van]

My Pokémon!

---

As Tuvlan suddenly rose up, Experiment #J00329B reeled backward, at last so desperate for breath that it clutched violently at its own throat, claws sinking into its own sallow flesh. Its narrow chest heaved at twice the normal rate. The creature suffocated rapidly as its own blood began to strip down its already-collapsed throat. By some terrible unnatural instinct the creature’s fingers tore at its own flesh, boring a hole through which it could breathe, but the torn-out artery only served to flood the Experiment’s lungs as it emptied itself of its life force. Finally the heaving stopped, the gnashing stopped, and the backflow of dark fluid gurgled up into the creature’s wide, terrible mouth, spilling out at the corners of its torn-up lips. Its wide, glowing eyes still streamed white luminescence that gradually began to fade as the tears flowed into the widening pool of blood.

The net cast over its lifeless body looked like a slipshod death sheet, failing to hide the monstrosity away from the living.

Throughout the entire ordeal, the two soldiers in their opposite corners of the room remained silent. The one who had wielded the net gun had pressed himself as far as he could into the corner between the two walls, terror overtaking him as he listened to the terrible sounds in the dark with nothing but the ghostly white glowing eyes to pinpoint where the demon was. The other soldier, the leader of the group, remained vigilant with his arms crossed, and didn’t move until he saw Experiment #J00329B fall backward, defeated. Then he gritted his teeth, reached for his baton, and stomped forward toward the heavily bleeding redhead. He would extend the weapon out to his side for a moment, aiming to deliver a crushing blow to the kid’s ribs.

["Tuvlan"]

A Moment's Reprise---NOPE

A breath. Two. The boy would slide against the wall, still seething through his teeth as he stared in the darkness. Almost a year's worth of being underground fairly consistently registered the two figures a little more easily, the ever-so slight reflect of the man's infrared the boy's biggest tell. Only problem was... there were two of them.

Suddenly, two men whose hands were crossed over their chests charged at him, batons at the ready. The boy's arms rose up as he stood himself up---but his leg made him skid down an extra step too far---

---He could feel his rib cage shatter, snapping as though in slow motion. His throat clenched---but his arm snapped down, elbowing into his own gut.

He stood up straight and to the other side, trying to alleviate the pain as he breathed harder, leaning, bearing down on the man as he'd try to grab at the man's elbow and keep the baton in place---And suddenly make a snapping motion inward, to break the arm.

Against his broken rib cage.

More howls. Spittle and screaming in the man's face, sputtering over the man's infrared as the boy gnashed his own teeth, growling angrily.

He'd just gone out to prove something to himself. To learn. He had to return. He had to return. He had to return...

[Van]

Patience running thin

---

The soldier grunted as his arm was twerked inward, a somewhat painful jolt running from his joint into his muscles, but no serious damage was done as he leaned closer to the boy, stiffening defensively. His free left hand balled into a fist and surged toward Tuvlan’s face. Whether or not it was a hit, he’d wrench himself away from the boy’s grasp on his arm and take a step back, slipping the baton into its holster, glaring infrared, reaching down for the end of the rope on the ground without turning his body or attention away for an instant. With a violent yank, he tore the rope free from the dead experiment’s ravaged neck and clenched it in his left fist as he charged forward, ramming into Tuvlan with his left shoulder—the one that wasn’t sore. Aiming either to knock Tuvlan onto the ground or ram him against the wall if he backpedaled into it, the soldier would grab roughly at the boy’s wrists, trying to force his arms, simultaneously dragging/pushing Tuvlan toward the door leading into the hallway.

["Tuvlan"]

Hand Jive Scuffle

The boy's hands over the man's elbow, he didn't feel the satisfying snap as his opponent moved in closer with the experiance of a veteran fighter. He saw the fist coming... or rather the fists, but the boy's hand rose up a little too sluggishly as the soldier exploded his fist against the boy's nose, bringing the boy hunched down as the soldier gave himself a moment's reprieve. And with that, the boy's race against time began.

Unable to breath out of his nose, intense pain upside his head, and bleeding out of ten holes in his neck. He breathed out audibly, glaring... staring red against the infrared.

The only upside was that the pain on his nose allowed him to focus more of his attention forward as opposed to the side of his head all th time. So he saw the man coming. Both of him.

The boy would lean back ever so slightly...

---And as the man charged at him would suddenly whip his head forward to crash into this man's head, roaring in his fight against pain.

"SMASH!"---

But that didn't mean that the shoulder didn't punch into his gut. It would wind the boy, but with his hands below both of their tosos, he would try to push inward and knock the man away.

In their hand scuffle, the Barker soldier would grab the boy's wrists. To make it easier on himself, the boy leaned towards the soldier... and would attempt to knee the man's groin... or the inner thigh and throw the man off balance.

Unbeknowest to the boy, by leaning forward, to where the man was pulling, he would put too much weight towards and behind the guard, which would lead to an off-balance situation anyways, a commonly practiced thing in styles such as Aikido.

...Of course, stumbling where they would, they would undoubtedly careen towards the door that led to the hall.

Probably because the boy was slowly losing his grip on gravity.

[Van]

Which way's down

---

Gritting his teeth to brace against sudden cracking pain of their impacting skulls, the soldier pressed forward with his eyes tightly shut, leaning into the boy, grappling blindly for his hands… feeling the wind thrust out of him as the boy’s knee collided with his groin. The two blows in quick succession stunned him for a moment, and he could do nothing but hold on tightly to the kid’s wrists as they both stumbled toward the ground in the dark. For a moment the soldier’s vision was only a mess of dim green hues, and as he struggled to overpower the boy and make sense of the goddamned monochromatic infrared vision, he found his grip slightly loosened—but only for a moment. He attempted to wrestle the boy’s arms into his control, fumbling with the rope, trying to slip it between and around the kid’s wrists. It was more difficult than he thought.

["Tuvlan"]

COME ON AND SLAM
AND WELCOME TO THE JAM

Crashing into the ground. A roar would confirm that the boy had in fact landed on his broken ribs. Pressing his hands into the man's stomach, he felt the soldier's hands quickly go over his, trying to tie them down. Meanwhile, the boy, realizing the situation would try to kick to get himself into a straddling position above the soldier... and then welcome the tying of his hands. He continue to "struggle" against the soldier, raising his hands high---and then begin slamming down hard.

Into the ground.

And then towards the soldier. And then his right side. And again. And again. And again. Shouting into the darkness as the ground continued to move like an ocean underneath him.

He'd vomit on his assailant in his nausea, wipe his mouth on his right shoulder. All he could see was---

"SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH
SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH
SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH
SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH
SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH
SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH SMASH"

Until his knuckles bled, if he could manage it. The ground beside the man would crater under the impact, the inaccuracy increasing, hopefully bearing down on the man's chest... or head... or...[/i]

[Van]

Broken shield

---

Vomit. All over the goggles. The gruff-voiced soldier barked at Tuvlan in vehement aggravation, seething, gritting his teeth and trying to breathe past all the goddamned vomit. He wouldn’t see the boy’s fists of fury smashing dangerously close to his head, but he heard them. The pounding was all around him. As he groped up into the air, tugging at the boy’s collar, he suddenly realized what all the pounding was. The kid’s fists cracked down onto his face, crushing the goggles against the bridge of his nose.

The man roared, blinded—as if he could see in the first place—by the pain flashing right between his eyes. Blood from his smashed nasal cavity spewed as he exhaled. His hands groped furiously at the boy’s neck… but several missed pounding noises later, Tuvlan’s fists hit their mark again and cracked the soldier’s right brow bone.

The pain had become unbearable. It was in right up in his face, it was in his brain, blinding him from his own thoughts. In instinctive self-defense—no longer a soldier, but a man—he stopped trying to strangle Tuvlan and tried to shield his face with his hands.

["Tuvlan"]

Mercy Kill
Theme Song: Slammin Jammin Power Dunkers by Quad City DJs vs Ron Wasserman

The boy couldn't even hear the man over how many "Smash"s he was screaming. The skin of his knuckles were scrapped nearly to the bone as fragments of the ground itself were sticking into it. But a change came over the atmosphere...

Furrowing his brow, he stared, trying to look for the man that was cowering beneath him, shielding his face. Taking a moment... the boy snapped off his restraints... and in a punch drunk state grabbed the man's throat with a surprising grip in his fingers. And then punch at the man's head...

Over and over again. But the boy would miss still. A lot. And his punches were getting slower, as he dribbled blood over the man's face and hands.

Just keep punching... just keep punching... and choking. At some point, he stopped even calling out "SMASH" anymore and settled for grunts.

He could feel himself on the verge of passing out. But there was one more... He knew had to finish this one off...

[Van]

Yeah no, fuck that

---

Perhaps Tuvlan would notice, between his punches, that the man beneath him had stopped moving. Completely.

But there was movement behind him in the dark. Faint whimpers and scuffling along the ground could be heard as the other soldier scrambled blindly toward the other door, slipping in the experiment’s blood along the way, falling on his ass, but making it at last. He tore the door open and slipped out of the room, leaving the dead experiment and his dead commander behind in a self-preserving panic.

["Tuvlan"]

"COME BACK HERE YOU BAST---"
"Oh. Hello, Ground"

Abruptly, the boy began to realize how little resistance the man below him was providing. Then he realize he couldn't even feel a heartbeat. He stared up, just in time to see the spare figure beginning to flee, tearing the door open.

In a sudden burst of strength, the boy sprang up like a frog, perhaps managing to catch the man either on his back... or by his legs. It was hard to tell as the world wasn't exactly being cooperative. So long as he caught the man on his stomach, he would slip his legs tightly underneath his... and then claw ferenzically at the man's face. Trying to slip his mans against the bulbous orbs... and puncture them. And then he'd continue to pull, until he cracked it fully open.

If he managed to get in on it at all. If he could survive, though, he would really like his position to not be given away.

Only then, after closing the door with a long slide of his arm, would the boy roll (slowly) onto his back and lay on his back... breathing... A moment's respite.

And letting the cold embrace him.

[Van]

Yeah nice try though

---

So close. The man was so close to getting through that door. He caught a glimpse if his other two compatriots and cried out with a terrified pleading look in his eyes, but they couldn’t help him. The man fell on his knee first as his leg was yanked out from under him, and not an instant after that he felt the boy on top of him. Screaming uncontrollably, he could hardly fathom what was even going on through all the pain, and up until the last moment of consciousness he had no idea what had even just happened.

["Tuvlan"]

Propensity To Sleep

...Not quite.

The boy couldn't quite fall asleep yet.

Struggling, he reached over the most recent body... and began tearing the clothes off.

His arms were deadened, heavy with all the adrenaline beginning to fade... but he was bleeding too much. Forcing his head up, he gushed out a little more blood before he began wrap his neck. He repeated this until he effectively had a collar over his collar.

In the darkness, he fingered his collar carefully... trying to sleep without fading into something heavier...

Sleep would take him, on the floor, next to the bodies.

Yes, sleep.

[John]

John reached for his hammer just as he saw the smash boy grab his pipe, the door in front of him bursting open, John would swing the hammer over his head aimed for the floor.

"Erupting Schism!"

He'd yell out to activate the ability to redirect the soldiers in front of him and cause the fire to erupt all around him. He was hoping the fire erupting from the point of contact of the hammer to splash out and hit the soldiers.

Cha: 35/39