One's right around the right turn, as a matter of fact. And is dumb enough to try to knock Voodoo's M60 out of his hands.
Voodoo's response is so simple and quick even the Elite's stunned - he drops the '60, letting it hang by his side from the sling, then bumrushes the Elite, slamming him into a nearby wall. The AR2 goes flying, and so does the Elite once Voodoo sweeps his feet out from under him.
They say Overwatch soldiers can't feel pain. They say the augmentations took care of that nagging little problem years ago. They say a lot of things.
But goddamn does it feel good to beat the everloving shit out of one.
Voodoo's straddling the Elite right now, delivering a rapidfire combination of hooks and jabs that are keeping the Elite's head spinning and disorienting him enough that he doesn't have a hope of fighting back.
It doesn't last long (one wishes it would) - when Voodoo brings his fist back for one particularly crushing blow, it comes back out with the tomahawk instead.
In the split-second before the tomahawk hits home, there's a glint of something in the Elite's optic opening.
The uninitiated might call it fear.
THWACK.
Voodoo gets up, sheathes the tomahawk, and brings the machine gun back up. "Where next?"
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-04-01 05:58 am (UTC)One's right around the right turn, as a matter of fact. And is dumb enough to try to knock Voodoo's M60 out of his hands.
Voodoo's response is so simple and quick even the Elite's stunned - he drops the '60, letting it hang by his side from the sling, then bumrushes the Elite, slamming him into a nearby wall. The AR2 goes flying, and so does the Elite once Voodoo sweeps his feet out from under him.
They say Overwatch soldiers can't feel pain. They say the augmentations took care of that nagging little problem years ago. They say a lot of things.
But goddamn does it feel good to beat the everloving shit out of one.
Voodoo's straddling the Elite right now, delivering a rapidfire combination of hooks and jabs that are keeping the Elite's head spinning and disorienting him enough that he doesn't have a hope of fighting back.
It doesn't last long (one wishes it would) - when Voodoo brings his fist back for one particularly crushing blow, it comes back out with the tomahawk instead.
In the split-second before the tomahawk hits home, there's a glint of something in the Elite's optic opening.
The uninitiated might call it fear.
THWACK.
Voodoo gets up, sheathes the tomahawk, and brings the machine gun back up. "Where next?"