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4 years Years
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Post by Kelolon on Dec 17, 2018 11:30:49 GMT -4
Tokyo city. 2am. This quiet night as ever was littered with the alerting shrieks of engines and bustling business. So those who wish to avoid this hassle retreat to the alleyways. There the crinkle of humans was muted and the dark of night amplified. Cold. Very cold. Winter cold melded with the icy wind. It was raining, judging by the thin puddles filling pocks in the concrete. Now and then, a sign of life; a cat's mewl, a flutter of wings, the odd, ambiguous scream. Yes. This truly was the realm of demons. And yet, still, a man trudges through the dim dark. The glaze of joy over chilled features, the blush of alcohol. Coming home from a night out, assuredly. He is not the only one there. No, sir. Deep in the depths of a shadowy alleyway was a hulking mass of hate inverted into something twisted. A creature barely fitting the description of a man. Oh my. It seemed the strings of fate were tugging the men closer to one another. Indeed. As the softly intoxicated man turned a familiar corner into a familiar alley, he saw a figure eclipsing the light of the other side. They stood perhaps 10 meters away from each other, both at either end of an alley wide enough to park an American muscle car. Between them, from closest to Christopher to closest to Bucket, sat soaked cardboard boxes in a stack; a dumpster filled with greasy, foully-sweet smelling refuse; a Toyasaki Versys motorcycle in vibrant orange, kept in place with multiple expensive (C-rank durability) locks; a tall collection of F-rank plywood planks, the sort one would use as a makeshift floorboard at a construction site. The temperature is 6 degrees Celsius. The only source of light comes from street lamps at either end of the alley and from the full moon in the thinly-clouded sky. Neither men know each other, though Christopher will recognise Bucket's name if introduced. The stage of history is set.
Soon, blood will pump and flow. Something metallic shimmers in the moonlight. The rosy cheeks fade to resolute pallor. The wheel of fate begins to turn. |
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41 Posts
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50 Years
Male
civilian 1-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Christopher Clearwater on Dec 17, 2018 13:59:25 GMT -4
The dinner had been wonderful, if it had also run on longer then it really should have. To say he hadn’t been expecting to leave the Pub around 2 am would be a understatement. Having been friends with the former chief of police had its benefits, such as being invited to his retirement party. Even so, he walked down the street with a slight drunken hue to his cheeks. He hadn’t had too much, just enough to enjoy himself at the party. He soon made his way down the side streets, passing buy the street vendors as he walked.
Soon he grew tired of the noise and people and decided to take an off alley toward his home. He stopped as he got near the water soaked cardboard boxes. He saw the imposing figure at the other end of the alley way. Something in him told him there was going to be problems. “Evening there friend, mind if I pass through?” he said softly, not moving from that spot, hoping to draw the other into the light a little. He didn’t understand why, but something felt off. There was a presence he didn’t quite understand . What was going to happen now, he thought to himself as he tried to mentally prepare for a fight.
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63 Posts
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31 Years
Male
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Post by Bucket on Dec 17, 2018 15:17:43 GMT -4
It had been about two hours now that Bucket, the overwhelmingly massive man that he was to a point where he looked imposing even when crouching, had spent observing a small, abandoned baby kitty. It was cold, it was defenseless and barely knew how to hunt or defend itself, to the point where its instincts were seemingly inexistent, having cuddled up to his right hand the moment he barely even reached towards it. This wouldn't do. This kitty needed to learn how to properly hunt and kill if it wanted to live so, to this effect, he decided he'd teach it.
His eyes had looked around carefully, having caught a rat close by the garbage dump trying to reach for some left-overs. The moment it entered his sights, there would be no clear escape anymore, as Bucket's left hand moved viciously ahead, catching the thing by its tail. He pulled it over to the kitty, dropping it close by and blocking the rat's escape. Hunger and seeing something smaller than it seemed to do the trick, as the kitty slowly managed to kill the rat in front of it and start feasting.
Cats were always little murderers and hunters by nature and Bucket loved them for that.
Bucket didn't love it when people came to bother him.
"Evening there friend, mind if I pass through?" Were the words he heard from someone who approached him wanting to pass by. Male's voice, gruff, which meant that he was not in his youngest of years. Slightly familiar, like he could have heard from the TV. He only remembered voices of heroes and other kinds that fought so, slowly getting up, easily towering over Christopher, he turned his bucket head and stared down at him, easily recognizing the man now. He knew of every sanctioned hero and anything he could see in the TV or sometimes within memes he saw on the internet. He had even memorized the ranks.
"Christopher Clearwater. Not in the top 10.
..Guh, scram. I am the Bucket and I do not have time for people who aren't strong." He dismissively said, going back to crouching and staring at the little kitty doing its thing, quite enjoying how bloody its little paws and teeth were from eating the rat. The most adorable little killer, he actually wanted to take him as his pet.
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41 Posts
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50 Years
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civilian 1-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Christopher Clearwater on Dec 17, 2018 21:26:25 GMT -4
When faced with something akin to a giant, most people would run, but Christopher knew that bucket head. He knew that voice from the interviews done when he was captured and when they were replayed when he escaped. He didn’t need the man to confirm what he now knew. The man before him was a Criminal unlike most others. A brutal berserker of a villain that had terrorized the populace for years. “Bucket… To think id be the one to find you.” He had been one of the first to intervein when he attempted his escape. He hadn’t managed to catch him that time, but now he can make up for that.
He threw off his coat and took up a boxing stance, to think hed be this close to him made his skin crawl. This man wasn’t one to be taken lightly. “You really should have stayed in your cage Bucket. You did society a favor when you gave your self up for arrest. Now turn and face the wall, place your hands against the wall while I call police to pick you up. Ill only ask once Bucket, so do the right thing and surrender without a fight.”
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63 Posts
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31 Years
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Post by Bucket on Dec 19, 2018 13:15:54 GMT -4
Bucket was being recognized now, apparently. He had some notoriety by now and that was quite alright by him, though he knew very well that it wouldn't be enough to just be known here and there by name. He had the tremendous desire of being known with just a glance, to send everyone in a horrified frenzy and nothing less. If he were to do it, beating up someone in the TV would quite help it, specially since he was starting to annoy him.
Someone that old trying to challenge him was just asking for severe trouble, injuries that someone in his state might not recover well from.
"They lied, you know? That I gave myself up because I was surrounded." Bucket began speaking, deciding to give someone the truth of what really happened seven years ago. He gave one last tickle under the chin to the kitty, only to place a carboard box on top of it, so that it wouldn't see what he was about to do. It was not the little animal's time to see what was about to happen.
Finally up, the pressure in the air seemed to rise, the very murderous presence that exuded from the villain almost palpable. A desire to kill, to maim and not much else. He never demanded much. "I went to jail because I wanted to.
I was bored. So I fought every last inmate. I hospitalized hundreds. I did not kill any, even if I desperately wanted to.
They were my best way of escape, since they were my decoys. Stepping stones for the next phase of my master plan. To come out and murder every last Top 10 Hero and Vigilante I can see. You are not top 10, so I tried to give you mercy, something that I never give.
..You chose death. Do not regret this." The metallic, massive menace spoke somberly, surprisingly serious for what was known to be a cocky, off the rails boisterous villain who constantly spouted one liners. This one was honest, one that didn't allow bullshit or work-arounds. This one, still calmly walking closer to Cristopher, guard lowered and arms crossed, looked down upon him, the pressure increasing almost ten-fold.
"You have the first punch. You'll suffer if you do not make it worth my time."
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41 Posts
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50 Years
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civilian 1-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Christopher Clearwater on Dec 19, 2018 19:27:35 GMT -4
The villain had the gall to pet a wild cat before covering it with a cardboard box. Bucket was one of the villains that Christopher had spent much of his time reading about before he became a hero. To think he would play at being a kind hearted soul, protecting that kitten as if it would make up for his sins. Christopher watched as the figure stood up, he felt the hatred… the murder coming off him like a wave of malicious intent. Christopher wouldn’t allow him to escape, not again.
“I was there the night you escaped the Prison.” He said as he rolled his shoulders and pulled his arms back. “I missed you by maybe a few moments, but now I will make up for that.” He rushed in and transformed into his Golem state as he jumped up into the air and with a mighty roar he slammed his solid stone arms down toward Buckets shoulders, hoping to drop him in one blow. If that didn’t work then from there he would transition into a boxing stance and throw a hard left jab at his face, his massive stone body making the wind whistle as it moved threw the air. He then moved back, getting ready to defend himself if need be.
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63 Posts
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31 Years
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Post by Bucket on Dec 20, 2018 13:45:58 GMT -4
Bucket kept himself cold and focused as he saw Cristopher transform into something much more menacing, something that could actually harm him unlike the crippled old fart that had been there until a few moments ago. This one was actually taller than him, still decently agile enough to jump into the air and come down on him! Bucket looked up and smiled, the anchor in place of his mouth widening up to show his excitement, as he tanked the entire blow to both his shoulders without budging much, though his feet did dig into the concrete below him. There was pain.
Just not nearly enough. Barely half of what Redhorn did to him. Hell, if he had fallen into him with his entire body, there could actually be some blood, but this would just give him a bad bruise he could press occasionally for a bit of pain. Better than nothing, but nowhere near enough.
Still, the first blow had been the jump and crash that barely had an effect on him, that was a free one given to him. The follow-up jab that went to his face was not within his endless charity of allowing others to have the first blow when he didn't expect much of them so, as it came to his bucket head, he raised his left hand, stopping his fist right in its tracks, barely going back.
Heavy, but not nearly strong enough. "Old Midget or tall statue, you still have no blow to that punch.
If anything, I'd compare you to an atrophied fatass who can only use his weight for damage." The murder presence seemed to only get stronger now that he was showing Cristopher the difference in power, a man who wasn't using his quirk had managed to not only stop his punch but, as he started to grip his fist with his considerably large hand, crack his stone skin as well, progressively digging further into his body should he choose to keep struggling and not back away, while he still can.
"You still have a chance. Turn back, fuck off and
STOP WASTING MY TIME." Bucket didn't hate a lot of things. But he did hate people he considered weak constantly stepping up and trying to waste his time by fighting him. He needed more Redhorns, that could dent his very head with just one smack.
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41 Posts
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50 Years
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civilian 1-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Christopher Clearwater on Dec 24, 2018 23:49:51 GMT -4
Wasting his time? Is that what he thought of this all, as some way to keep himself entertained between bouts of murder? Christopher felt the skin on his stone fist crack. The sound of the stone splintering and cracking as he felt the pain of the limb being broken by this mans grip. He did the only thing he could think of to get free, and shifted into his human form, his stone fist shrinking in size as he jumped away from Bucket. He felt the blood trickling down his split and open skin on his hand as he did so, leaving a trail going back to him made of crimson droplets.
His hand felt warm from the crimson flow that went down its cracked and split surface. He looked toward bucket as he gritted his teeth in frustration. But soon he found himself loosening his jaw as he relaxed his muscles. His fathered words entered his mind. ‘Do not show them anything, your actions will always be betrayed by your emotions.’ The air around his hand felt cold, as the wind blew over the slowly drying blood. He locked eyes with his enemy, the target of his emotions and his rage. If buckets aura could be seen as pure malice and hate, then Christophers could be a washing wave of only one thing, Determination.
He was back near where he had started, his jacket still on the ground, soaking up a puddle of something. “Wasting your time?” he spoke in a soft voice, how better to hide his emotion then by speaking calmly? He would use this to his advantage, to make his enemy angry. “Why would I bother wasting the time of some insect? Someone beneath the recognition of the other heroes. No, Im not wasting your time Bucket, im simply letting you enjoy your last few minutes as a free man. Because once this is done,” he said as he undid his tie and wrapped it around his bleeding fist. “Il going to make sure they lock you in nothing less then solid concrete, with nothing to keep yourself occupied with besides the darkness. No fights, no blood, no nothing. So enjoy it, you filthy mongrel.” He put his hands back up, his quirk was strong, but slow. For a fight like this he would need to be agile.
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63 Posts
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31 Years
Male
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Post by Bucket on Dec 27, 2018 15:19:58 GMT -4
Bucket could not stand this fucker anymore. The fact that he still had the tongue to continue on with his useless speeches of what he'd do to him, trying to get under his skin with retarded insults he didn't care for. The thing that really got to him was this old fuck even thinking for a second that he was going to win this. Even telling him that he'd be locked up in a pure concrete cell, where he'd never escape from. Now, he was not only over-estimating himself, he was under-estimating him.
"You complain about my recognition? Fine. I'll make sure everyone knows of your early retirement, Cristopher. You'll suffer for being the first hero to actually be so drole in his attitude and power that I lost all excitement for this fight." With that said, Bucket slowly turned to the concrete wall next to him, seeing that it was relatively thick, just from how it sounded when he banged his fist once or twice against it. Cristopher thought a concrete cell would stop him so, to disprove this, he smashed his right foot right into the wall, letting it go halfway. He pulled his body up with sheer power, then smashed his left.
A beautiful sight.
Bucket started walking up the wall, his entire body in a complete 180º angle relative to the floor, holding himself up by sheer power and the fact that his feet could smash through concrete itself to walk up it, in a sort of horrifying show of power based upon scaling a wall with his feet alone. Either way, he reached the top relatively easy, easing up on the stomping as to not smash the roof in. Instead, he walked to the edge and screamed for everyone. "LISTEN, CIVILIANS! I am Bucket and I am about to murder the professional hero CRISTOPHER CLEARWATER! Run for your lives now or come see the greatest beating an old man has ever gotten, I don't care which!"
With that said, Bucket now turned his attention back to Cristopher, quietly walking towards the edge of the roof again, this time, turned to the alleyway, looking at him from above. He wasn't smiling, he wasn't excited for the pain he'd feel. He was just bored at this point, that a pest that already hadn't been promising just turned out to be what he hated the most.
A weakling with empty threats.
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41 Posts
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50 Years
Male
civilian 1-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Christopher Clearwater on Dec 30, 2018 19:28:32 GMT -4
To call the smile on christophers face mocking would be accurate. The clouds above began to threaten with a windy gale, the storm had returned. The winds swept through the alley way sending newspapers and leaves skittering through. The old man stood below the Young, and watched as he climbed the side of the building in the unique way that he did. To think, he has the strength to use the concrete itself as a way to hold him self as he climbed. He decided to let the world know that he was about to kill someone. The fool was now even broadcasting to the world at large that he was going to kill a pro hero. But all of this had been perfect for Christopher.
Now he knew for sure that he was going to be dealing with someone who out punches him. he figured as much before, but to have it confirmed to an example that he would be able to work with made him feel a little at ease. He was brash, and easily provoked to a show of power. But to underestimate his ability in battle due to his gullibility is insane. This man was a natural born killer. Christopher forced every ounce of self doubt down and out of his mind. He couldn’t afford to let his anger get the better of him, not with a man like bucket. “As wonderful a circus act that that was, it wont matter. Once I capture you, the police will handle the rest. There’s no reason for me to even worry. Although…. I do have a question.”
He looked up and smiled at bucket, his legs crouched down a bit, ready to move at any moment. “What color feeding tube do you prefer? They come in blue, white, and my personal favorite, Neon pink. Tell me now before I break your jaw, the doctors wont be able to understand your words.” He cheekily said in his german accent as he smiled his biggest smile at bucket. He felt a feeling in his body he hadn’t faced in a long time. A fire in his muscles, it wasn’t an ache. It was something he couldn’t quite put his words to, it was a long forgotten flame.
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63 Posts
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31 Years
Male
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Post by Bucket on Dec 31, 2018 19:47:00 GMT -4
Somehow, Cristopher was really getting through to Bucket. Getting through his psyche, making him angrier by the minute. Not for making Bucket think that Cristopher is being cocky and under-estimating him. The veteran villain was more than a little aware that this fool knew very well of his power and how dangerous it was to taunt him. It wasn't that he saw him to be too cocky for his situation, that he thought too highly of himself. Bucket honestly thought him to be too old to have that much bravado. What truly angered him was that Cristopher was giving him threats, telling him about all the good times he'd put him through when better than any others, they knew:
none of it is true.
Bucket hated teases so damn much so, the more he teased him about all the amazing things he'd put him through, even though both knew that it wouldn't ever happen with his Gargoyle powers being like that, it simply made Bucket angry beyond words, to the point where he stopped talking and simply crossed his arms, his side turned to Cristopher. From his left hand, one single index finger raised itself.
An invisible change inside his body and.. It shot out. The index finger's nail separated from the rest of the body at great speeds, tremendously greater than the fastest baseball pitches, directly to Cristopher's chest, easily puncturing through a lung and coming out of the back. At which point, hit or miss, it returned back to Bucket.
No words were said, but it was clear that someone was losing his patience.
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41 Posts
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50 Years
Male
civilian 1-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Christopher Clearwater on Dec 31, 2018 23:31:35 GMT -4
The shot came fast, Christopher had been briefed about his quirk during his initial escape. But now he got to see it in action. It was fast, faster then anything Christopher would ever hope to have to dodge. But given his position beforehand, ready to dodge out of the way if need be, he was prepared. Even then, he didn’t come out unharmed. As he rolled toward the wooden boards, he felt the nail rip down his shoulder going in and out of the large muscle like a bullet. Christopher, for all his strengths wasn’t one to complain about a little pain, but he didn’t have time to shout out like his body wanted him to, he forced himself to finish the roll and kick one the boards up into the air.
He moved in a serpentine fashion, his boxing stance helping him slide on the wet asphalt as he repositioned himself behind the board. He took aim, and, as the board fell, he felt his good shoulder lock Into position like the hammer on a revolver. He b lew out a mighty puff of air from his nose as he punshced the bottom of the board, sending it flying upwards at bucket. Following that attack, Christopher would grab another and repeat the process. He felt the warm blood flowing down his shoulder blade and he knew he couldn’t afford to go another round of dodging those nails.
His fathers words returned to him once more. Once again he was in the family gym, sweat streaming down his forehead as his father was relentlessly pounding his knowledge and beliefs into christophers head. “Power comes in response to a need, not a desire. You have to create that need.” Christopher looked up at his father, seeing bucket standing at the edge of the building. “Your Quirks impressive bucket, But I don’t think you should waste it on me. Id save it for the concrete box im doing to seal you in.” he smiled a cocksure smile at bucket, knowing it was going to annoy him even futher. “Maybe once I capture you ill get a chance to see you executed for your crimes.”
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63 Posts
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31 Years
Male
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Post by Bucket on Jan 6, 2019 13:15:04 GMT -4
Bucket was not particularly pleased with the fact that Cristopher still found it in himself to be able to dodge, even with the pain he had already put his hand through. Now, even with a shredded shoulder, he insisted on continuing, grabbing simple planks and kicking them towards Bucket, who simply stood there, getting wood smashed upon his face, barely even flinching. He didn't like how he could take the planks of wood and go on easily, he remembered the day when someone tried to stab him in jail and the tip barely made it in, his skin and flesh hard as wood.
One of his saddest days when he bled only a trickle and healed right away, as if he had only stung himself with a needle.
Still, some of the heavier planks did make his face forcefully turn to the side with the power which he kicked them with which, honestly, was because Bucket barely offered any resistance. He did launch his arm, right up to his shoulder towards Cristopher though, luckily and thanks to the planks, the villain hadn't aimed properly and the arm whizzed right past him. Except he hadn't missed. He wanted this.
When the arm passed right by Cristopher, the arm flexed, the elbow bending completely to have his fist face the old man's back. Yes, Bucket had complete control over his limbs, even after being separated by chains. Launching his balled up hand with as much speed as he could, at point blank range, he fully intended on slamming the man's back, missing his spine since it was kinda hard to aim from where he couldn't see, as well as the fact that he wasn't a trained assassin to be able to target such spots in a flash. Still, it slammed just right of his spine, directly on his upper back, easily slamming the old man into (And through) the concrete wall in front of him, surely crushing several ribs should it hit.
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41 Posts
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50 Years
Male
civilian 1-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Christopher Clearwater on Jan 8, 2019 17:33:15 GMT -4
The world went spinning, as suddenly he was flung forward with enough strength to shatter stone. Christopher could feel the bones break under the pressure. As he slammed into the stone wall, the world went black for a moment. He groaned as the world returned to his senses, the rubble having fallen on him. Christopher slowly began to get up as he felt the bones in his ribs and back ache, the broken ones had been thankfully numbed by the sheer force of the impact causing immediate swelling to the area. He stood up in pain and groaned as he wiped the blood from his cute forehead and out of his right eye.
To say his body was damaged was an understatement. He hadn’t been expecting the attack at all, not that or the way Bucket had just casual brushed off his attacks. He had a moment finally and grabbed his phone, sending his location to the Heroes within the city. He set the phone down to record… just in case. A moment to make sure they would know who did it to him, should he be killed here. “Come on bucket! Is that… Is that the best you could do!” he felt his body aching more then it had ever before. Was this really going to be how it ended for him? he panted and help his fists up ready to fight, but he didn’t know if he could take much more. He fell back, his leg giving out as he landed on his backside, making his whole body scream in pain. He gritted his teeth and panted softly as he lay down. His old body wasn’t holding out well. “damn you bucket….Why did I need to run into you tonight? Of all people….Too bad, looks like I might not…keep my promise after all.” He felt himself black out, the pain finally taking over.
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63 Posts
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31 Years
Male
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Post by Bucket on Jan 11, 2019 8:15:55 GMT -4
It was over before it even began, as some clichéd guys would say. Though it still rang true, as Bucket had been doing nothing more than playing with the old man before he used his quirk, his patience having run dry after being promised so many great things, so many good, painful times that he knew would never come. He promised the old man that he'd die and, right now, he fully intended on it.
His limbs came back to him, the sound of grinding metal coming to a halt once his body was whole again. People cried, frantically called the police or just ran away, desperate upon seeing their hero about to die, just like the cruel villain had promised.
"Persistence is only going to get you killed, old fart. Maybe in death you'll learn not to give me false promises." That was all the villain said once it was all said and done, simply hopping down from the roof he stood on, to casually land on the destroyed alleyway below, back turned to Cristopher. His experience taught him to expect the old persistant man to have called for reinforcements in the seconds he didn't look at him, so it was clear he couldn't dally there for too long. The murder would have to come right away, with a sharp stone from the rubble, good enough to stab into his meaty neck.
...
Then he left. Inexplicably, Bucket saw fit not to kill Cristopher, choosing to instead throw the rock away, grab the kitty he put under a box and simply walked away, slinking his huge frame into the shadows of the suburb's several alleyways. Soon enough, with reinforcements did medical help arrive for Cristopher, taking him away to the hospital to be treated. A "miracle" they called it, most explaining it to be the villain's fear of being caught for staying around too long. Other simply said nothing.
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