The Jamaican Acquisition

Mon Apr 10, 2017 9:34 pm

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Artist: N/A - Song: N/A - Word Count: 976

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“Out of May, One People”

The words escaped the mouth of one sturdy and well built figure as he laid on the Sandy beaches of Jamaica. His eyes were shut and his feet were submerged in the warm, clear waters of the Kingston beach. The sun scorched the very earth that Sting laid on, but it didn’t phase him. He enjoyed a bit of pain from time to time, but unfortunately the tender rays of the Jamaican sun weren’t quite strong enough to cause any sort of damage.

No sun burn, nothing. He laid almost limp and lifeless for a brief period as the heat partially overwhelmed him. He had his guard down, his spiritual pressure toned down as much as he physically could. For a moment, the humid air broke through his defences, heating his blood within a matter of seconds. But it didn’t take long for his body to initiate the dilation process. The vasodilation began in his cheeks, the veins expended and his cheeks turned red as sudden breeze cooled his muscular body.

It had been a few days since Stings little venture in Brazil. He enjoyed the heat, there was something about it that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. To him, it appeared almost as if nothing in this world could hurt him but the insignificant rays of the bright yellow orb that lingered in the sky. He not only enjoyed the heat of the exotic countries but he also enjoyed their women.

The Jamaicans and the Brazilian women all had something in common. Their rear areas were considerably larger to those from Europe and Asian. It must have been something in the air that caused the exponential increase in size, but Sting didn’t really care about all the finer details. All he knew was that the women knew how to enjoy a good night and a good night was what Sting provided in his down time.

“Stiing-. This is the perfect location to utilise as your base of operations if you’re serious about what you’re thinking.”

That was Stings inner hollow spirit. He tended to share his thoughts with Sting in a rather unannounced manor. When comparing the two, Sting was more the brute and muscle, while Vito was the brains of the operation. The idea that Sting had was inspired by his Inner Hollow; what he had intended to do was to re-assume control of the Monsuta. Over the years that he served as the Black Ops commander, he always served under individuals and never led them. He didn’t agree with Toras methods but he respected the fact that Stings older brother, Hakai, put him in that position. Because of his method of appointment, he chose not to pursue his life. However, he didn’t give a single fuck about their current leader, Azuma; nor did he care of the mans heritage.

“Hmm-... Yeah! You’re right. Well, you know how this next part goes.”

Sting simply responded to his inner hollow by talking out the statement, before digging his heels into the sand and utilising the strength of his core and legs to push himself vertically off the ground. It was looked like something out of the Matrix movies, but sadly there was no one in the immediate proximity to witness it. Sting couldn’t control his spiritual presence and so it rather plainly oozed out of his body; this made it difficult for the individuals around him to breath. As a result, he often wore a suppression coat that he carried with him; he wore the coat on almost all occasions where he interacted with the locals, but now that it was off, those in the immediate proximity would come to choke up prior to fleeing the area.

It had it’s perks having such dense spiritual energy. The once filled beach was empty in a matter of seconds! Awesome! Sting didn’t have much to celebrate as he had to put his plan to action rather swiftly.

Naturally, he looked around the Jamaican sky line, singling out the tallest building of them all before casually crouching in the middle of the street, utilising the elastic potential in his legs to spring off toward the chosen building, leaving but a crater in his wake. As his body approached the building, he began to slow himself and eventually placed his feet against the side of the building, walking up the side for the remainder of his journey.

The locals eyed in shock as he walked up the side of the building but what was to come would be far more horrifying than what they had witnessed…

The instant the first of his boots touched the roof of the building, his spiritual pressure began rattling the glass on the building that he stood on. Before long, the skyscraper-esque building, along with others began shaking in response to the sudden burst of energy. Of course, the outburst would attract on lookers, strong ones at that so Sting intended to send a message.

“I am the new owner of this shit stain of a rock. If you have a fucking problem, say now or forever hold your peace. ”

His voice was propelled through the air, as it resonated across the entirety of Kingston. If there had been a government established in this specific city, they were about to lose their lives. If there was anyone within the city or neighbouring cities that dared challenge his rule, they would also face their untimely death. As with all situations such as this one, there would be those knights in shining armours that would attempt to stop him; the protectors of earth and such. It was only a matter of time before one of those pests came forth and Sting was fully ready for them…

Tue Apr 11, 2017 9:52 am

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The crowds parted like frightened mice, hundreds no they ran in thousands. The screaming of mothers and children, pandemonium at it’s finest. Yet atop a tall building golden eyes gazed down upon the sight below, full lips parting to let the breath she had been holding leave her mouth. Her lithe body fell from the multi-storied building hair like gold whipping out behind her as she fell, the ground rapidly approaching; the crowd rushing past as they fled from the epicenter of this disaster. She landed upon her feet lightly, static arcing from her sandals to the ground, the slight corona of blue white energy causing the people around her to part like water around a rock that jutted out of a river, they quickly rushed over either side as the girl walked forth, her steps unhurried as she exhaled.

”My my, the landscape may be different; the people are weak, yet those who would use their strength to lord over the weak seem to be universal. “ She thought as slowly as her figure would begin to emerge from the frantic and fleeing crowd. Her gleaming golden eye glinting with a sick bemusement, she of course never would shy away from a fight; and this was certainly going to be fun. Thus she didn’t delay much, instead if one was to pay attention within the crowd they’d find a girl lifting a massive blade from behind her where it was strapped horizontally next to a naginata on her back. It’s glinting silver edge catching the sun, causing a glare that would momentarily blind onlookers the blade was drawn in one clear clean movement.

As she drew it, her back foot naturally slid back, her center of gravity shifting to be ready to counter at a moment's notice. Her toned and well muscled arms bringing the long oodachi around until the tip of the blade would be barely against the ground, the silver edge dusted with the faintest blue of spiritual energy. The air around her was slightly distorted from the force, angle and power behind the swing, the air having been split from her position up until the position of the man who stood upon the building bellowing at the world for all to hear.

If one was to pay attention they would hear the dull boom that followed, a line most likely being hewn through the entire building, a blue glowing line preceding the building’s descent into ruin. It would split in two at a diagonal slant, following the direction she had swung, diagonally from the right shoulder down to her left foot; the cleanly hewn top of the building sliding across the slanted line of the cut, before finally it would smash into the pavement below, the deafening sound of breaking glass, twisted metal and othe odds and ends filling the air. Only then would the cloud of dust from the displacement and destruction of such a looming structure would billow out.

Thankfully the dust cloud would only spread out five or so blocks, the force of the boom also not harming the civilians who had managed to flee; and as for the woman who had swung her blade? She was certain it hadn’t done jack shit to the male who had been so rowdily asking for a fight before. She wasn’t naive enough to believe this battle would be won by a single sword swing, she simply wasn’t that lucky. Hence, she remained calm her own spiritual pressure lightly dusting her body for the time being, it’s trace and power contained with consideration for the structures that surrounded them. Yet, there was enough of it that sting would know where that simple sword swing came from.

That sword swing was the answer to stings rather provocative question. She wasn’t going to go overboard with superficial statements of grandeur, since that just wasn’t the kind of gal she was. She’d rather speak through her actions, and she felt the thrall of battle, and an indicator of violence was explanative in itself. Which was why slowly as she released another breath and centered her being she waited for the battle to get underway.

Wed Apr 12, 2017 9:00 am

CRUSH THE INVADERS

MASARU

Song: Kamen Rider Necrom Theme - Artist: Kamen Rider Ghost - Words: DUNNO

The people of the city had been running in such a panic that they were tripping over each other now. While the idiocy of other humans bothered Masaru to no end he was still just that, Human. He would be making his way to the disturbance that was Sting whilst picking people up and sending them on their way but once he was close enough the Uloader was placed on his wrist. Pulling out the black and green Eyecon as he usually did and pressing it -Stand by- was called out by the Uloader and Masaru would place the eyecon in and rotate it until it was standing -LOADING-. The Damashii flew out from the uloader and activating the dropper on the uloader started that usual transformation sequence.

-TENGAN, NECROM, OMEGA ULOAD- some rock music started to play as the damashii merged with his transformed state and the Uloader simply had one last thing to say and it was rather fitting -CRUSH THE INVADERS- pulling his hood down and setting his weapon to gunmode he started to walk towards sting, a couple of eyecones forming on either side of him and forming two ganma that would rise and follow him. If anything...Masaru's goal was to pretty much make a perimeter with the Ganma, make a no go zone around this sky scraper and if he can make enough he could start an endless barrage of gunfire at Sting. However his main goal was to ensure the safety of others and buildings if possible. As he continued to walk to the site he helped up who he could and when he finally arrived he would notice Magnoila, this was perfect. He now had someone to distract Sting while he more or less started to form an army. Him and the Ganma taking refuge in another building he'd enter a meditation state as he tried to form more ganma to assist with the evacuation and preservation of human lives.

The thoughts running through his head were to not die, don't get spotted before he can do what he has to do and...don't die. With that he focused his power into creating more ganma as quickly as he could, if Magnolia cloud distract him long enough he'd be able to be of some use.

Wed Apr 12, 2017 1:27 pm

Yaksha, The Anthropophagus

Yaksha

It was inevitable after such a declarative statement that there would be any number of unpredictable responses; the vast majority of people simply began to scream and run, seeking the closest form of shelter, while a fair number fell to their knees on the spot, gibbering any number of supplications and promising eternal fealty to this unexpected devil. There were even those who stood stock still amidst the chaos, having coiled into a ball, or frozen like statues. Mankind was an infinitely variable race, and that meant there were infinite variations on the same theme, when this man showed up. Fear, loathing, anxiety, and deep, dark, mind-wrenching depression.

By far the oddest reaction was from one especially pale man, very nearly an albino, who was watching the entire affair from a nearby cafe. Before him there was a cup of chai tea, spiced quite impressively, and a three-quarters eaten spice cake. He was dressed to the nines, wearing a two-piece suit in dark red that looked like it could've cost well into the five figures, and his hair was raked back negligently down the middle, creating a swoop that nearly brought to mind a peacock's feathers. His expression could almost be called one of polite interest, like a man listening to a particularly uncharismatic politician and giving him the chance to finish speaking before he did anything.

He finally rose from the seat, tossing down a handful of coins, and beginning to approach the source of the carnage. His movements were slow, almost mechanical; he'd raise one leg, extending it far further than any normal person would, and placed all his weight on it before springing off his back leg. This continued for about a block, before it became clear to those few onlookers; this odd man was stretching. Or perhaps he was simply keeping himself entertained. In either case, the smile on his face had broken out fully, as he spoke with a depth of confidence and certainty that was almost staggering to hear. His voice boomed and projected through the area, as if from the lungs of a creature twice his size.

"You heard him, ladies and gentlemen! That fine specimen of facism has lain claim to this rock and nothing else! Now I know this place is your home, and I understand that it must be quite unsettling to simply be uprooted like this, but frankly I couldn't care less right now. Bear with us during this transition period, and I promise you within the week you'll all be back here and going about your lives as if nothing happened!"

He pointed one finger in a random direction, crooking his finger as he did; a thin yellow beam of energy shot out from it, splashing against one of the countless onlookers, and enveloping them in a cocoon of reishi that would've been completely obvious to any well-informed onlookers; this was a hollow's Negacion, the least insidious of their countless laser options. With his free hand the man raked one finger lazily down the air, causing air and space to furl backwards slowly, peeling away as if it were a curtain. Behind it, there could be seen lights, and blueish-grey smoke curling up into the sky, and the sounds of raucous laughter, and the smell of sweat and smoke and desperation.

"And during this transition period, you will all be hosted in the Americas, under my personal aegis. Drink and eat to your hearts' content, see the sights! Have a -wonderful- time of it, ladies and gents. And tell your friends that you are all living in veeeeeeeery interesting times!"

As soon as the selected civilian was within arms' reach, the man snapped his fingers, causing the energy to dissipate with the faint snapping sound of air filling a vacuum, and he reached out with a hand to catch them by the hip, as the turned to flee. He spun them about, in a way that almost brought to mind the tango, and gently but firmly, with the insistent slowness of an iceberg, shoved him through the garganta.

"This next part is pay-per-view, ladies and gentlemen. I'd suggest you line up and get started on your evacuation, before we start extracting payment."

He waggled his fingers as he said this, giving a smile that was positively wicked in its delight, and allowing his eyes to fully open, revealing lemon-yellow slits, that almost seemed to be rotating in their slits. As he saw a great number of them beginning to sidle away, as if preparing to run, he even began to hum, deep in his throat. It was a pleasing, melodic tune, something far more jaunty and delighted than one would normally expect in the middle of a warzone.

"Nowhere to run run run~! You've got clowns to the left of you, and jokers to the right. If you run from me, you're running to him. And I guarantee you that's a bad end."

He snapped his finger once more, walking in a slow, methodic circle, raking his fingers down the air six more times; each time, a slightly different continent could be seen behind it. There were snowy flurries, arid savannas, and slow, misty, muggy streets. This act seemed almost like it had taken something out of him, as the man hunched forward, suddenly seeming to lose five or six inches, as he strolled down the streets, right past all the civilians.

"Or throw your lives away on a needless symbolic gesture. I don't care. Just don't blame us when things on this little rock get crazy."

Coding Altered From: [The Frost]

Fri Apr 14, 2017 9:35 am

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Her golden eyes narrowed, a soft centered breath escaped her lips. As orbs of an orange hue blasted towards two other people magnolia could care less in all honesty. That was their burden to bear, and it was not her place to coddle them. Instead her focus reached it’s apex, and in this moment stings oncoming attack, albiet to many fast, was taken in with crystal clarity. In this moment it was as if the world had slowed to a crawl for the matriarch of the everfrost bloodline. The familiar feeling of pins and needles born from the electricity that thrummed through her veins raced within her. The faintest caress of lightning arced from her unblemished cream-colored skin, and she inhaled once more, letting the air quickly fill her lungs, then as she exhaled sting’s fist would seem to come in contact with her head, only to go through it as the image vanished. Sting would seem to rapidly accelerate to five times his previous speed to slam into the ground like a meteorite in those moments as magnolia was standing just slightly offcenter from her previous position. Just far enough that even if sting tried overcompensating it’d have been very . . very unlikely for him to manage to land a second or adjusted hit on her in such circumstances.

Now why did sting accelerate? That was simple, in the briefest amount of time possible, to the point it was hard to discern even to the naked eye, Magnolia’s back and front foot had pivoted allowing the afterimage sting had hit to form. From there she had been to the right of him, her hand which through iron fist was capable of taking shikai and even to an extent bankai level blows from those of her peers without shattering had for a period of time that bordered upon instantaneous movement; came into contact with stings wrist and shoulder. Then she had applied her secondary hakuda concept in it’s mildest form .It was known as known as demon shattering blows. This allowed her to in this nigh negligible amount of time, exert a level of force which if it came into contact with the ground would have decimated everything within at bare minimum a mile radius from the surface area of her tiny little fist itself.

So when the concept was applied to a rapidly accelerating body such as stings? The outcome would be nothing short of catastrophic, the centrifugal force of magnolia’s body as it moved with sting’s which was rapidly accelerating towards the ground was to the point that it’d become very . . unlikely for sting to escape this sudden movement without injury. Since at this point between sting and the ground there was less than five feet since this took place the instant stings body would have hit the after image, then the force applied to him would further unbalance the body in the air at rates that even an enhanced state of mind would find nearly impossible to deal with.

Now for the force of this attack? It was on a level that was meteoric, that is to say the second sting hit the ground the ground would whip out like a wave, it would cave in from itself as ozone ignited and the air screamed with the thunderous sound akin to at bare minimum three or four atomic bombs going off. Due to the pressure exerted on every inch of stings being it would leave him even if he landed on his feet skidding for miles, if not shattering his leg bones simply from impact alone. The split second after impact the force exerted against him would cause if not the entire city, than a huge chunk of it to simply cease to be under the mere aftershocks of such an impact. If that was not enough? There was vibrational forces in that moment of impact that could harm even an arrancar with a master level hierro on the internal level, so just by accumulating all the different aspects of this blow it literally became near impossible for him to escape without having gained a very . . Very substantial amount of damage.

Then there was the fact it’d be very hard to hit magnolia moments after this attack. Why? Well after executing it in that split second her body used the very force exerted on sting to rapidly move away, so the split second after impact she’d already have been well out of reach from any kind of counter-attack sting might be capable of thinking up. Sure it wasn’t heroic, but magnolia never had been known for her chivalry when it came to combat at least. Instead she craved efficacy and results, which was why as sting more than likely was buried hundreds if not thousands of feet within the earth, Magnolia would have a very focused and knife-like expression, all the force of her will exuded from her very being. Because this was an attack that used the opponents brash and reckless behavior against them, with counterforce that was strong enough that even those with master level strength or speed would have an extremely hard time dealing with it.

Yet she was not cocky, rather as her feet planted on the ground the lightning that surrounded her, known as lightning flashstep was ready to go at a moment's notice, even the slightest split-second of something amiss would be more than ample time for her to avoid, move away and quickly evade any unsavory “sneak attacks” that came her way. Since again she valued efficacy, but she did not have absolute faith in her powers. As such she took a very jaded and worldly view against an opponent, only after they had been thoroughly crushed would it be plausible that they were no longer a threat. So even this attack which more than likely shattered a majority of the bones in stings body transpired she was still very much so on guard, waiting for the aftershocks and tremors from the moment of impact to cease, to see what the damage was.

Sat Apr 15, 2017 8:04 am

CRUSH THE INVADERS

MASARU

Song: Kamen Rider Necrom Theme - Artist: Kamen Rider Ghost - Words: DUNNO

So far his plan was working, just make an army from nothing, as the Ganma kept watch and started to spread throughout the building Masaru has started to push himself. This could ultimately end up breaking him as he started to form ganma eyecons rapidly, the troops standing and guarding their master. It was then when Masaru eventually had manifested roughly 12 other ganma that he grabbed ahold of one, empowering it. The resulting ganma was different, a commander of sorts. This was how Masaru was going to help, this was how he was going to go through this entire fight without a scratch. He was going to play the coward, but this coward was building himself an army not for himself but for Jamaica. The troops spread still, trying to sneak to other nearby buildings, vantage points and potential blind spots.

This blue ganma watched over Masaru, making a silent oath to protect him as more ganma eyecons were being created. This was causing Masaru's grip on reality to fade, he could see tears into what he could only describe as other dimensions. While all hallucinations they seemed real to him and as more eyecons were created the more and more these hallucinations took over. He grunted and just stopped, feeling the toll hit him all at once. Panting a bit he would push himself up and stumble only to end up on the ground again. He would just take this time to breath, if anyone approached the Ganma would stand their ground like statues almost. As he waited for the moments to pass he just felt a sharp pain in his head. He tried to soldier on but eventually he dropped like a rock.

The ganma stood like a defensive barrier, the commander Masaru had created picked up the near unconscious Masaru and carried him deeper into the building that was housing this small force of rather weak troops. When Masaru was laid down he ejected the eyecon from the uloader, conserving his strength and allowing himself to rest. The troops retreated into the building, their master had been foolish but they wouldn't let him die, they'd give him time to recover and eventually rejoin the fight.

Sun Apr 16, 2017 2:22 pm

Yaksha, The Anthropophagus

Yaksha

Their opponent for today was remarkably fast, and incredibly talented. And this time there was no room for debate, or conversation, or stretching out the inevitable; he'd thrown his hat in the ring at the exact time when there would no longer be any possibility of reconciliation. That meant he had to fight for his life; something he hadn't done in centuries, if he was being completely honest with himself. It had been centuries of work, dancing and weaving and avoiding dangers, without ever truly engaging with them. Rewarding in its own way to be sure...but it would have little part to play here.

He folded his hands over his chest, watching each of the man's movements with an impassive, distant expression; he looked like a guy watching a television show, or some kind of pay-per-view event, and having a hell of a time. It wasn't until a finger was jabbed in his direction that he sighed, touching a hand to his brow. There was no way around it, no flowery words or tricks that could stop a speeding locomotive. He had to move, or dodge this thing, or die.

He twirled on one foot, raking a hand down the air once more, this time a bit lower. Whatever run Mirja had thrown up, it seemed that it had left the curtain between worlds harder to part; now it felt like sliding a hand through water, rather than air. It fought against him, leaving a cold sweat poking through his brow. Already, his mind had partitioned off a chunk merely to counting the seconds until that cero arrived, and atomized him. He continued to push, closing his eyes. This was the first time he'd had a time limit, and that meant that this was a fresh challenge. Why not, then, add another on top? In his experience, doubling down always made things far more interesting. If you failed to do the impossible...well it was impossible, after all. No one could fault a man for succumbing to rationality.

He finished raking his hand through the air, this time creating a garganta twice the size of himself; easily large enough to encompass the cero that had approached. But time was scarce, and the ability to avoid it was effectively zero at this point. The cero was pounding its way forward with the slow inevitability of an iceberg, and Yaksha couldn't even claim the dubious pleasure of calling himself the Titantic; he was a mere dinghy, something that couldn't even hope to flake off a few pounds of ice with his passing.

He turned his head, allowing the force that he'd been portioning off there for just this purpose to expand, to thrust its way outward. He hadn't fired many ceros in his life, but he knew the way to, and he knew that his cero would hardly even buy him a split second; it would be consumed and absorbed in the same way a hybrid car's momentum would be absorbed by an eighteen-wheeler; subsumed and dispersed, with no notable change in the forces involved.

Well, no notable change to the laymen. For Yaksha, the calculations were all precise, crystalline. Ceros could be volatile creations, and even being -near- one could be fatal. The garganta could hardly be expected to contain all of this catastrophic energy, and the spillover alone could be fatal. So Yaksha needed time to get away from the sight of impact. Perhaps it was his masterful planning and his precision, or perhaps it was just that even his greatest attempt was barely adequate, but the force was just enough to slow the cero for a split second, and not enough to trigger an immediate explosion. That left him just enough time to push off of the balls of his feet...

His foot, now, as one of them was singed into nothingness by the rampaging cero. His left foot, to be precise; the sinister one. Fitting, no? Or perhaps that too was just a byproduct of his forethought, because his left leg had been dragging behind him since the moment he'd turned his head to fire his own cero; having reabsorbed the cells and reaitsu from it, it was now no more his limb than his hair or his nails were. There were no nerve endings there, nothing but dried, congealed flesh and blood to be blown apart like old cloth. He limped away, looking down at himself; the forces had still been enough to leave him feeling like he'd been pummeled everywhere simultaneously by an enormous sledgehammer. But he was alive, and only missing a single leg. Against a foe like this, that was probably the best victory he could hope for.

Now he just needed to lay low for a bit, and get his leg back.

Coding Altered From: [The Frost]

The Jamaican Acquisition

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