WHO: Ryan [
yayashton] and whoever else wants to kick some demon ass.
WHERE: Close to Broadway.
WHEN: 03/17/09; about noon
WARNINGS: If your character identifies with the word thug, you're prone to singing and possibly attempted harm on Ryan's part.
SUMMARY: In case of an emergency, BREAK DANCE!
FORMAT: You can choose, I mostly just felt like writing.
(
What the $%&* was that? She just ripped my pre-ripped Abercrombie! )
So he was making his way along the street with his new staff in hand. It wasn't as great as the Dado killers he had used in the past but it did the job. And that was when he heard singing. An eyebrow went up, thoroughly confused. "Why are people singing?" he asked to no one as he followed the sound.
What he found just confused him further.
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"At the edge of the night
There's not a Deadite
I can't handle!"
The uglies chimed in (these were a new wave mixed in with some of the originals, the others were in various states of alive but incapacitated across the street) and Ryan felt a vague sense of satisfaction at that. It meant he still knew what he was doing, which was clear when Ryan spun into a kick that landed straight into one of the uglies' stomachs. It was something Ryan had highly modified from an akibo class he took once.
"When danger calls,
You must have the balls
Of an ox or a bear or any large mammal!Vaguely, Ryan wondered if he should acknowledge the observer. Except, he wasn't sure how to do it in the middle ( ... )
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But he couldn't be distracted by singing this guy needed help. It was surprisingly easy to block out the singing once he had focused on knocking guys out. His staff swinging quickly through the air, aimed for knees, stomachs, chests, anything he could hit. He seemed to move through the gathering crowd like it was second nature to him, given how many times he had fought off large crowds of enemies it might as well have been.
Whatever this guy was doing to them was making it easy to knock his way through them.
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He just like the song. Truthfully, Ryan could have done without the having to beat up people, but. If it had to be done, it had to be done. He switched to another song.
"God has smiled upon you this day,
The fate of a nation in your hands . . .
And blessed be the children who fight with all our bravery -
'Til only the righteous stand."
The message remained the same: Hey, you thugs! Join me in this number. It occurred to Ryan that after another few songs he was going to have to recycle them, but he doubted the uglies cared.
"You ( ... )
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As he broke through a group he chanced a look over at the singer. He didn't seem like much of a fighter, not very well trained. Of course more people didn't seem that well trained at fighting to Bobby. Not after spending all those days at the empty training grounds with Loor and Adler.
Of course, he couldn't spend too much time lost in thought, watching this guy. There were more of these invaders to be taken down. It seemed he wasn't hitting some of them hard enough because they just got back up after a couple minuets.
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Ryan sighed and pretended the uglies were baseballs and this was the some kind of sick and twisted athletic tournament. Coping mechanisms were really very second nature to him, but they only went so far. If very many more uglies showed up, Ryan was in trouble. Sing. Smack. Sing. Scope for someplace to duck into. Realize that he's in completely over his head. Repeat. All in a day's work really.
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The thug's numbers were beginning to dwindle but it seemed being under whatever spell the singer was throwing didn't allow them to run away. He was beginning to wonder if he should suggest the guy stop singing.
"Hey, dude! Maybe you should stop singing?" he said after a moment before turning to knock out another thug.
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A stop sign clattered to the ground not so far away, which made several of the uglies break free from his suggestion. In the back of his mind, he knew singing attracted people but it hardly occurred to him on a regular basis until someone brought it up. To him, it was just something people did - like magic or glowing green to other people - and he easily forgot the exact consequences of what his powers could do. Especially when they didn't behave quite like they did in his world.
"What kind of magic spell to use? Slime and snails or puppy dogs tails?"
It was, perhaps, not the best song to use. The glitter didn't do much and the snails were pretty much useless too. The point was mostly the slime. It made the area immediately in front of Ryan slick and slippery, which caused the uglies to slip and slide. Ryan took the opportunity to hit one and cause a domino effect.
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"Certainly an interesting ability you have there." he said before spinning quickly to knock out another thug. "Let me take care of the rest of them and then we should probably get out of here before we get over run by these guys." he suggested.
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He stepped back and let the other person take care of the uglies. But not before singing something softly under his breath. He could handle slime because it was no different than the waxed floors of East High. He wasn't so sure the other person could.
"It's our hearts little grave and the salt in our wounds."
A thin dusting of salt covered the slime. It would, if nothing else, create traction. Ryan was hoping it soaked up some of the slime, but sometimes what you wanted was not what you got.
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The moment singer-boy was out of the way Bobby began knocking guys out left and right, and then he hit where the ground had been covered in slime. The salt didn't help much, in fact it seemed to make it worse. The salt dissolved in the slime making it even more slippery than it was before.
For a moment Bobby nearly lost his footing but managed to regain balance long enough to knock out a few more guys before falling on his rear. "Ugh, groooooss." he groaned, slipping a bit more before he managed to get up. He'd dealt with plenty of gross over the past few years but slime would always be one of the grossest things.
Once back on his feet he made quick work of the last of the mutants before making his way over to the guy he'd helped out. "Man I could uses a shower now." he grumbled, running a hand through his hair.
"So, you always sing to your enemies?"
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