Closeness to Chaos (Quark)

[Zorolo]

OoC: More or less, this battle is going to set up a few things that have to do with Monroe and my newest idea for his great upgrade. That's going to be a while, but I really need to build this a bit more. ^_^

BiC: A loud click as two buttons were pressed echoed. The rolling of the tape recorder started, recording something as it rolled. A long sigh drew out as the person recording thought back. This person, a man clad in dark clothing, had been thinking for some time as he sat on the bench of the chair in that city during the late hours of twilight. As what remained of the sun vanished into the night, the man uttered his first words:

"I leave this for if I lose myself. I'm too afraid now to speak of this to anyone in person that I'm creating a record of what I've learned and what I am off to do. I want to first leave some thoughts to a special person that may never know how I feel. I love you, is all I want you to know. Odds are, you won't know who you are, even if you hear this tape, but I felt the need to say that."

"I guess I should start at the beginning: I have powers that I can't fully explain that occur from time to time. You see, they first occurred in a cavern when I fought Heishuro and Harvy, two skilled warriors that nearly killed me. When I was cornered and seemed as if I could die, he appeared for the first time. he saved me from death. At that time, I wasn't sure who or what I was dealing with, and merely shrugged it off as my imagination; however, now I know the truth."

"The second time I saw this being's powers was when I was nearly killed while aiding a man named Mark's now deceased sister, Mina. In a moment of desperation and fear, I accepted aid from something I shouldn't have. Although it helped me to conquer this foe that had nearly killed me, it now desires to swallow me up."

"It is called Set."

"By Set, I don't mean any kind of scientific experiment or anything like that, but the actual God of Chaos, Set. Apparently, at some point in my life, he decided to take up residency in my body. After I made my deal with him, I've had times when I am either asleep or simply black out. When I awaken, the town I am in at that moment is destroyed, and everything I can see has been killed. The trauma is horrible, but I'm fighting it now."

"I'm fighting my bodies need the sleep with any number of things, not the least of which being caffeine pills. I'm tired or extremely wired, always feeling extremely awake or like I'm about to pass out. To make matters worse, my body is fighting back whatever I use now, so I'm nearing to agree with the fact that fighting it this way isn't helping. I need a new method, and I sought one out."

"I asked the aid of an old mystic who agreed to help me. He wasn't much more than an old man in strange white garments with long white hair. However, I felt something strong about him. He agreed to give me the secrets to removing my curse if I did something for him. I am off to do my mission now. My orders are to head to some town and locate either a man with no face or someone called the "Dark God" and defeat one. I have to bring something from whichever one I defeat as proof, but that shouldn't be too hard."

"Again, I'm leaving this tape to anyone who finds it if I disappear. Yet again, to that person I haven't said these words to, and don't foresee I ever shall if I'm not careful: I love you."

With those last words, Monroe clicked the stop button. The moonlight shined upon the dark clad man as he put his tape recorder in his jacket and black and orange lightning danced about him as the form of the god, a Jackal head and bright blue eyes, along with an extremely muscular build, formed. Destruction time!

o=)----------Hours Later----------(=o

When Monroe awoke, the deed was done. Another city had been destroyed. He had to get going. He was off to a city where the "Dark God" and "Faceless Man" were both said to have been spotted. If luck had it, the modern fencer would find one of the two. After all, he had to have some manner of luck.

[Quark]

Everyone, everywhere, working in the street or sleeping in their beds, they were all in danger. Benignly unaware that they could die today, they went about their business; nonchalant and doomed. They were free, yet imprisoned by fate. Their eyes were filled with unspent tears, saving them for a day when they actually needed to cry. This town was nice, far too nice to continue up its current path. Soon everything would turn upside-down as loved ones are taken, brutally murdered. A good deal of these people had experienced death before, but only on their gods’ watches. Today, a wraith would steal souls against the course of destiny. Their goals and aspirations were fruitless next to Her will, and even the Dark God’s desires came before theirs. It was a tragic death to their way of life, yet a fitting one.

Soon She would speak. When She did, he would make his next move. His journey had only just begun; so far he had merely three souls marked off as one of the thousand. By the end of the week, he’d be sure that number would rise into the hundreds.

He loomed motionless atop the clock tower, virtually unseen by the bustling civilians below. As an enigma, he would slice through this town like a knife; then vanish with only a trace of blood to follow. Such thoughts were morbid, dwelling on death, but those were his thoughts nonetheless. He briefly wondered what kind of lives he would be ending, whether they had families or loved ones. He wondered if they would miss them, or if they would even remember them in the afterlife. The three souls already haunting him were starting to grow wearisome, but soon they would be drowned out by the screams of hundreds.

He was happy today. Something about the air, the wind, the unsuspecting crowd below; it all made him remember his goal: Just one-thousand souls. When this was all over, he would finally have his life back.

Brusquely, catching him off guard, She spoke. With a start, he turned around on the clock tower top. Whenever she said something, it always made him remember that first day. If he had one, shivers probably would have crawled up his spine; they didn’t, though, because he was nothing but a hollow shell.

Someone was trying to find him? How could that be possible? He’d only just recently been released, the idea that someone was searching for him came as a shock. Who would have known he even existed? It very well could have been Vaskalen’s puppet; she had a loud mouth and could have spread word fast, if anyone was willing to believe her.

Whatever the cause was, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the task. He wouldn’t question his orders, but he would see them through.

Two fingers bit into the eyeholes of his bone mask, lifting it to his head. She would be his eyes and ears, directing him as always. He placed the demonic face on the front of his head, pressing it into place.

The guy trying to find him, whoever he was, would die today. He was eligible to be one of the thousand.

[Zorolo]

Monroe looked around the town as he entered under the rickety entrance arch to the city. The wooden entrance with the town's name on it was not only scratched up and worn, but also faded to the point that it seemed he town had lost its name. Aside from aesthetic being completely ignored, the town was completely simple with nothing outstanding about it. Aside from the bell tower in the center of town, there was nothing that seemed too important to the people. Then again, that tower was probably attached to the church, and if this town truly worshipped this "Dark God" person, then odds are the people were insane.

As the dark clad man walked through the town, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, but didn't see anything odd about the people. Then again, the best place to look at first would be the church. As the modern fencer walked through the nearly empty streets of the city, he noted that everyone went about their business in a totally focused fashion. Despite being dressed like they were trapped in the victorian era. For God's sake, how did places wind up like this? After all, those clothes went out of style a long time ago.

As the modern fencer looked at the gothic architecture of the church, he admired the sight for a few seconds before placing his hand on the door. With a light push, the door swung open and the dark clad man entered, resting his right hand on his revolver and looking around. It was a fairly simple church with pews, an altar, a red carpet, and an upper level with seats for the more well-to-do. It didn't matter for now.

The dark haired man shivered slightly, feeling a chill run up his spine. Something was here, watching him. The priest hadn't said anything about what lay in wait or what kind of stuff this faceless guy had, so that would make this fight more interesting. Even so, something in the dark clad man told him that he was being watched. "You can come out now. I haven't the time to waste on you spying on me. Let's get this over with," the bounty hunter muttered as he turned towards the door, not really expecting to see anything there.

[Quark]

In front of the exit stood the faceless wraith, crimson hair flowing in the air, a breeze wafting through the sanctuary from an unknown source. His mask stared into its target’s eyes, wondering what business it had here. Was he bent on killing him? It’s likely he wanted him dead, having searched for the man without a face. It wouldn’t matter what his motives were, though, for this man would be dead soon, given things went his way. However, one thing he’d learned through his years of training: Never underestimate anyone. He didn’t intend to let this man to leave alive, but that didn’t cloud his judgment. The mere fact this guy knew of his existence made him a threat.

The two strangers gazed into each other, gears in their minds turning. What would happen now? A man clad in black and a shell clad in smoke. Both were very different, yet both possibly quite similar. They were warriors from different times: One was mortal, the other not. They both had their motives, neither greater than the other.

The enigma behind his skull mask stood motionless, aside from his wild mane riding the breeze. He listened to his visitor’s mind, taking in every thought and assumption.

He spoke with a voice only his guest could hear. “Monroe Vossler,” He began. He was pleased to sense the man’s alarm at the sound of his name coming from a complete stranger, but he didn’t dwell on the thought for long. “I hear from a reliable source you were trying to find me.” He paused. Both of them seemed ready for a fight, but both didn’t know how to begin, nor were even sure if the other was willing to battle. “I found you instead. Does that mean you failed, or was your goal merely to kill me?” He took a gentle step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath his foot. “Get it over with, Vossler. Kill me like the priest told you to.”

[Zorolo]

Annoying. Of all of the thoughts that Monroe had at that moment, that was the first thing that the dark clad man used to define this creature that appeared before him. For one, the thing spoke to him without any sense of distinction from the enhanced human and probably any of the other beings it spoke to. At least, that was the bounty hunter's theory, anyway. Anyway, the target had been found, and now came the time to neutralize this foe.

Still, the modern fencer had a few questions for the man in the skull mask, but would save them for when they were more important. For now, this thing knew what the mercenary was thinking, which meant it had bypassed even his mental shielding. This thing was beyond otherworldly, simply being in its presence made a chill run down the normally fearless fighter's spine. More than anything, it was an annoying feeling, and not so much something that would hold the shaking right hand of the warrior from blowing a hole clean through the mask the man with no face wore.

The dark clad man slid his gun from its holster and spun it around his finger in a display of skill, finally stopping the weapon to aim it at the enigma, laser sight aimed at the center of the skull mask. "Doesn't matter what you've been told. Anyone that knows me knows better than to think that I'm simply someone else’s dog. The only reason I'm helping that priest is because I've got my own darkness that I want to drive out. You and that old man are simply a means to an end, that's all," Monroe said fearlessly as he spun his gun around his index finger nonchalantly.

"Anyway," the modern man said as he thought about it, "there are a few things I've picked up in the last few minutes I've been in here. For one, this isn't the village I was looking for. This is a normal church, not some kind of insane town that worships the "Dark God" that appears from time to time. If anything, the rumors I have would lead me to believe that this city is closer to where Zorlo and said "Dark God" fought. Thinking about it, it's a fitting place for me to defeat you. Although I hear say that Zorlo was defeated by that god thing, I'm going to beat you. I'm no weak Zorlo, and I won't falter to strike you down."

If Monroe had known just how inaccurate what he had just said was, he probably would have withdrawn at that moment. Even so, he hadn't heard much more then Sin and Zorlo had done battle and Zorlo had been defeated. Monroe only remembered how strong he had seen Zorlo be, which was still far more then the modern man's strength, but he had again been training. This was the time to see if that training would pay off. Before making the first move, the dark clad man laughed.

"Anyway, you and I both know I can't kill you. I've got the feeling that you're an immortal, so killing you won't happen. Even still, I'll subdue you and bring you back to that priest. When that's done... well... I'll be a free man," Vossler stated as he felt the clawing of Set to be free. Even the God of Chaos didn't seem to like this guy. Still, the first move had to be made.

Two clicks, one bang, one bullet whizzing towards the masked man. The fight had started.

[Quark]

The bullet passed through his face, or rather where it was mere nanoseconds earlier. A blanket of white mist filled the empty space where the faceless man stood, then suddenly was filled with his body again. It happened so fast that no ordinary eye would have been able to detect the moment of his disappearance. The wayward missile exploded into the church door behind him, leaving the first mark of battle in the sanctuary.

Why did this man bother? He already admitted he couldn’t kill him. There was no point for him to continue, yet there was a good reason for him to die. It was fate’s ironic personality, bringing the killer to death’s door, no matter how overconfident he was. Still, this man wouldn’t go underestimated.

This guy had a weapon unlike any other he’d seen before. It fired projectiles at tremendous speeds, about as fast as Sin himself, much faster than any arrow. It wouldn’t be too much trouble if well avoided and deflected, but it was most definitely an irritating device nonetheless.

Monroe had a knife sheathed at his chest. It wouldn’t be much trouble if used, but it was noted.

Listening to his mind, He heard Vossler briefly consider something about his sword tucked under his trench coat. Merely that brief thought gave him a vivid image of the weapon: an intricate hilt void of a blade. Just because it didn’t have any steel didn’t mean it was harmless, in fact it was probably something he’d have to keep a wary eye on, given Monroe was considering its use.

Beyond his weapons, the man was muscular, although his muscles exclusive to his physical state. Merely human.

The faceless enigma came to all these conclusions in a fraction of a second, not wasting a single moment, just long enough for him to formulate his first attack. The white mist from his teleportation hadn’t even begun to settle yet.

Without warning, he lunged forward, fist aiming toward Monroe’s head. Suddenly, his arm switched trajectories, crashing into the man’s hand. His gun clattered to the floor. A second fist flew toward Monroe’s stomach, but was quickly avoided. The exact moment he knew his attack failed, the faceless enigma vanished in a wave of smoke, reappearing behind his victim, planting his foot into his back.

The dark clad man rolled forward, grabbing his gun from the floor and cocking it for another shot. He slid to a stop, facing his opponent with gun extended all in one motion. He pulled the trigger, unleashing a bang.

The air sparked with energy, a black portal materializing in front of the masked ghost just as the projectile made contact. A second crack sounded as the bullet reflected off the field and back toward its owner.

[Zorolo]

To say Monroe was speechless would be stretching the truth more then slightly. The dark clad man couldn't even form rational thought for a few seconds after he had watched the first bullet hit merely air, and then the second bullet be bounced back. Time seemed to stand still as the projectile moved forwards. Little time to react, but the modern fencer already knew what to do. Luckily, speed like a bullet was becoming slower and slower. Keeping up with people like Zorlo and Cadenza's movements (thusly, consequently Sin's one would suggest as well) required a lot more of keen eye then watching a bullet move towards you.

Monroe moved quickly, narrowly moving out of the path of his own bullet. That was two used, and all the bounty hunter had struck was air. Luckily, he hadn't splattered himself in that one, but still, he'd need to be a lot more careful with how he used his revolver. This guy could dodge and redirect bullets, an unpleasant thing, but still, that didn't make them useless. For now, however, the dark clad man wasn't about to use his gun against this guy until he better understood this warrior's powers.

The mercenary spun his gun around his finger and holstered it, stepping slightly to the left and beginning to circle the enigma. The former assassin grasped the handle of his photon sword in his left hand, clutching it tightly and readying to make a move with it. Something about this creature's nonchalance made the weapon feel less useful then it normally was, although the dark warrior didn't quite know why.

Something about this guy is really worrying. It's almost like he can read my mind or something. It's entirely possible he can, so I shouldn't completely cancel that idea out as fiction. After all, I've seen some crazy ****, Monroe thought as he spun the handle of his sword around his finger, readying to make his first move with the weapon.

In a blur of movement, Monroe stopped moving the weapon and grasped it tightly, the blade activating and moving right towards the dark stranger. Time to see how well he handled the power of manmade energy.

[Quark]

Monroe’s blade was rather impressive. Just like his foreign gun, this sword was very unique. It didn’t seem to be made of metal, but instead was formed out of some kind of energy. What time and skill must have been put into crafting such a magnificent weapon! The design was clearly manmade. How long humanity must have had to evolve before their intelligence reached a level where they could even consider creating such a device. An energy beam that actually had the ability to stop and maintain its form was unheard of. It could be possible for the energy beam to continue on a straight path until it tore through the roof of the sky, but this was different. A beam of light that stopped, refusing to continue its path. How poetic. The light would definitely stop. Wait until he got a load of what he had sheathed at his side.

Monroe moved forward, blade moving quick for the kill. The faceless’ ashy metal fist locked around his hilt. A wave of his arm, he yanked the weapon free from its scabbard.

The room was suddenly cold. Every candle that illuminated the sanctuary was no longer lit. The church was near pitch black, the only light was peering through the stain glass windows. There was no sound for what felt like an eternity, all attention pulled toward the object in the masked man’s hands. The blade was released.

An ear piercing screech filled the air as a fancy energy blade struck against an evil weapon of great power. The blades pulled back from each other, their wielders doing the same. The battle had officially begun.

He stared at the figure through the twin holes in his mask. His demonic covering bore the perfect expression for how he felt: Satisfied and disappointed, merely emotionless by default. He feasted on the paradox and it made him hungry. He didn’t just want to kill the man; he wanted to show him why failed before it happened. He thought he had things covered with his fancy glowing sword, but he was wrong. Such childish thoughts weren’t beneath him, and he knew it. She hated it when that happened, and that wasn’t a good thing. Still, one couldn’t blame him. He returned to his original composure, knowing that he was border lining overconfidence. She would always make sure he wouldn’t cross that line again.

He bent his knees, lurching forward at an angle. His sword swept horizontally, blade meeting blade. He turned to the side and lunged toward Monroe’s gut with a stab. The soldier spun to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow, but returning it with a slash toward the nameless enigma’s head. His blade merely passed through air and through a white fog, a fog barely visible in the dark.

Simultaneously, he reappeared behind his victim, sword coming down hard in a vertical strike toward Vossler’s head.

[Zorolo]

Monroe's eye glanced backwards. This wasn't going to end well if that blade struck down properly. All in all, that actually seemed to be the antithesis of why the bounty hunter had come here to begin with. Well, the mercenary wasn't about to die standing still, mostly since he could slightly see the blade coming. This was, in fact, the very tricky part.

The former assassin bent forwards slightly, flipping the handle of his photon sword into a backhand grip and turing his body enough that the blades could clash. Monroe found himself slightly kneeling, his right hand on the ground and the blade of his sword creating a loud hissing noise as the blades clashed. If not for some very good reflexes, beyond human speed, and some really, really good luck, that attack would have killed Monroe.

The enhanced human pushed with his right hand upwards and tried to push his blade to the right, just managing to force the masked figure to leap back slightly. Monroe spun the handle back into a normal hold and pointed his sword at the dark figure. The dark clad man was breathing rather hard and taking notice of how dark the chapel had become. Aside from the light produced from the photon sword and the little bits of light from the stained glass, the room had become pitch black.

The blade still made an almost buzzing noise, but what else could Monroe expect from his weapon. After all, the blade was created by producing a huge amount of energy and releasing it into a physical form. This blade, despite being produced of condensed light particles, had no elemental distinction at all, being completely manmade in product and thus elemental lacking. However, despite that, the photon blade had no weakness to any kind of magic therefore, which seemed rather lucky in this case.

However, the dark soldier moved his mind from his sword to the enigma's. The sword held was probably made of some kind of magical metal that made it immune to being damaged in any way. Another thing that seemed kind of annoying, but still, the dark clad man wasn't about to let the faceless one win this fight.

The bounty hunter turned his right foot and dashed forwards, thrusting his sword forwards. He had to find some edge against this masked creature. After all, this being was one step closer to fighting Zorlo and defeating the fencer. Completing the ultimate goal, as it seemed.

[Quark]

His enemy approached rapidly, his feet carrying himself toward his target. He stood and let him come, his blade not even raised to defend. He didn’t act until it was too late for Monroe to turn back, merely moments before his energy blade would have sliced through him. A black vortex swallowed the attacker whole, forcing him out another just behind his intended target.

The faceless stepped backward, the pommel of his blade slamming into Vossler’s back before he had a chance to comprehend what just happened. The assassin stumbled forward. A sharp pain, a cold shiver, both pierced his spine, following every nerve and stabbing into his mind. The brief moment the blade’s hilt had contact with his body gave him a small taste of what it felt like to wield this weapon. Although it was powerful, it wasn’t anything pleasant.

Monroe didn’t let the odd sensation slow him down. He turned back to where the masked ghost was just a moment earlier, but now he was gone. His keen instincts suddenly screamed at him. He turned around again and raised his blade, blocking another strike that would have otherwise cleaved him in two.

Realizing his counter-attack failed, the faceless retreated back into the shadows of the church, leaving behind his signature white mist, which barely showed at all in the dark.

This man was a little sharper than he first expected. He moved quickly, his instincts terrific. He kept his mind well guarded, thus it was hard to predict his every movement. He was but a mortal human, yet still had some favorable attributes. It would be better he die tonight rather than be taken by the dark one another day. Any added power to that devil would make matters worse for him.

He materialized above the swordfighter, directly in mid-air. His dark blade locked back for a downward stab into the top of his head.

[Zorolo]

Monroe looked up as the masked figure reappeared an rolled to the side, narrowly evading the strange shaped blade as it pierced into the wood just past the tip, stopping there. The faceless one was more then a match for the dark clad man then the mercenary ever thought possible. Then again, no man ever enters a battle thinking he could lose. All this battle needed was a bit of evening out.

The dark figure stood up, his breathing returning to normal. The bounty hunter couldn't, however, stop himself from shaking. That strike... it had a could, straining feeling, something akin to the cold, dark feeling that a person had when death was near (or so I've heard). The mercenary shook his hand until he had forced the shaking to stop and readied to make his next move. The enigma hadn't moved an inch since the dark man's last move, which meant that, perhaps, it was time to form the next counterattack.

The modern fencer pushed his body up onto his toes and started to shuffling his feet quickly. The movement effectively began to create minor distortions. The dark clad man had learned that, by moving at a quick enough speed with his feet, he could produce minor and brief images of himself. Quickly, the bounty hunter began to move in a circle around the masked figure.

Monroe didn't doubt, not for a moment, that this creature knew when and where he was going to attack from. Still, that didn't stop the enhanced human from attacking. Suddenly, and like a bullet, Monroe burst forwards, slashing his sword downwards, intent on cutting the faceless one down. In this fight, hope was all that existed for a man with no past.

[Quark]

He stood motionless, not bothering to follow the fencer with his eyes. He watched and listened, regardless of where he was going to come from. Finally, Monroe made his decision. He lunged out of his circle, aiming his blade to cleave right through him.

The enigma jumped to the side just before a sword carved through the wood flooring of the chapel. He lowered his weight to that of a bird, flying out of harm’s way with a quick thrust of his legs. He lingered in the air for a second, his feather-like weight keeping him silhouetted in a stain glass window for a full second before disappearing.

He reappeared behind the pulpit, his hat in his right hand. He grabbed the small handle that usually dangled off the brim. He began to wiggle it in his hand. His target hadn’t yet located him, but he would find him soon enough. He began to spin the hat over his head, starting slow, but soon picking up speed. In a matter of seconds a loud whirring noise filled the sanctuary. Monroe saw him now, prepared for anything.

The hat was moving so fast in his hand that it only appeared as a blur. His hand suddenly snapped forward. The hat roared to life, its blades cutting through the very air. It shot toward the assassin almost as fast as one of his bullets. The faceless enigma vanished the moment his projectile left his hand. He had a backup plan in case this one missed. He reappeared beside the fencer, heaving his blade to strike the exact moment his disc would make contact.

[Zorolo]

OoC: Holy crap, sorry dude. I didn't notice you responded until just now. Please forgive me. *Begs forgiveness*

BiC: Well, you didn't need to be completely stupid to see the blade on the hat, but you did to not think it would be used as a weapon. In this fact, which suddenly it Monroe at just that moment, this thought hadn't occurred to him. Aside from in video games, he'd never seen a hat used for anything but looking cool or looking pompous. This, literally, redefined usefulness for a hat to the bounty hunter.

Decision time, he thought silently, readying to move. If he didn't, he'd be cleaved in half, at very least, at his chest level. Well, there was one other choice, and that was get the hell out of the line of fire. Stealth Step wouldn't help, and something, probably the fact that masked guy had vanished, didn't sit right with using Moon Step. One choice, really, the mercenary stated as he pushed himself to his limit and used Flash Step to barely evade the spinning blade.

Still, something wasn't quite right. The only thing that occurred still was that the masked guy was still nowhere to be seen or heard. Well, that meant only one thing. Logic dictated he had probably used that thing to become mist and was planning an attack. Common sense dictated that there was one logical position to attack from. Pride dictated it was time to shoot this **** in the face.

The dark clad man slid to a stop and turned with just enough time to block the sword of the masked man. "Time to break that damn mask of yours!" Monroe yelled as he pulled out his gun and clicked the hammer back, placing it against the masked man's face. Again, reason dictated that no one should be able to avoid this, but experience dictated otherwise. Even if the bullet missed, Monroe would still feel better shooting something, even if it wasn't the target.

Well, logic and common sense and experience got backhanded to desire, and the trigger was pulled. "I'm Rick James, *****!"

[Quark]

Ooc: All's good. Happens to the best (and worst) of us.

Bic:

If this assassin really intended to hit him, he wouldn’t have left such a large gap of time open. Sure he had great skill, seeing how he actually managed to parry his strike while simultaneously avoiding a spinning disc of deadly proportions, but his mindset was still not set right for this particular fight.

The moment Monroe parried his sword, the enigma almost felt sorry for the guy. "Time to break that damn mask of yours!" He whipped out his gun, which was more than enough time in itself to escape. However, the faceless figure didn’t flee; he felt it was about time to give this man a little message. The barrel of the gun made contact with his mask, but he didn’t flinch. "I'm Rick James, *****!" The weapon exploded into the mask, ripping through the metal surface and the head beneath it.

He stood motionless for a moment, just enough for the gun smoke to settle. It’s true a determined cadaver may take a moment or two to fall to the ground after a killing stroke, but this corpse did no such thing. The victory in Monroe’s eyes faded, or maybe it was just the smoke. His target was still standing.

Yes, the bullet hurt excruciatingly, but he’d felt far worse before. Without the disadvantage of vocal cords, he couldn’t express his pain for his enemy’s enjoyment. Instead, he stood back to his full height. The tunnel punched clear through his head began to rematerialize, regenerating lost flesh, while the fresh window in his mask also began to seal itself off. Fully healed in a matter of seconds, it was his turn. “I can’t die, sweet cheeks.”

His arm cleaved the air, his blade tunneling a gash into the church floor. The shockwave flung planks of wood and rocks in all directions, the epicenter of the explosion directly beneath Monroe’s feet.

Without waiting for a physical or mental reaction from Mr. Vossler, he appeared in the air, directly above his victim, blade ready for a second strike before his first one was even finished.

[Zorolo]

"I am getting really, really sick of that," the bounty hunter stated as he spun around quickly, knocking the enigma's blade away and thrust his own photon weapon towards the masked creature, which quickly blocked the modern fencer's sword with the flat of its own sword. A light push forwards from the masked beast pushed the fencer, blade and all, back a foot. The mercenary quickly grounded his feet and blocked the nameless creature's sword with his blade.

The whirring of the photon blade against the enigma's sword was a bit unsettling, but at least Monroe hadn't been cut in half yet. The dark clad man slid his blade up and moved in quickly, kicking the masked warrior in the chest. The masked creature didn't move in the least after the kick, but instead grabbed the bounty hunter's leg and tossed his way, sending the fighter crashing into some pews.

The mercenary's body had succeeded in crushing through countless pews and slowly lifted himself up. Monroe didn't have his sword, losing it when he hit the first pew, and the blade glowed from a few feet away. The bounty hunter felt the blood dripping down his forehead and reached his hand behind himself and grabbed a pew, tossing the wooden structure towards the enigma and made a mad dash for his sword. He couldn't leave himself unarmed!