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Viewing Single Post From: Riddles Of Monsters
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The Fiorious One
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In hindsight, Maxwell probably should have expected Mizore to react by screaming right into his face.

He knew that she wasn't just going to stand there and accept the accusations he was throwing a her. However, he partly assumed that she was going to react by begging for her life, or maybe even trying to come up with some half-baked excuse for why she had the audacity to steal what was rightfully his. Hell, he had even anticipated the possibility of her going for her gun with her free hand, although he was quite confident that he'd easily be able to break her wrist first if she dared to try anything like that.

But when Mizore began to screech like a banshee right into his face, the young Brit was briefly taken off guard by the sheer suddenness of it. Jesus, I didn't even think it was humanely possibly to scream at such a high pitch!

However, it only took a couple of seconds for him to recover from the initial shock, after which he didn't waste any time in slapping her across the face as hard as he possibly could. "SHUT UP! Don't try that bullshit on me, its not going to work!".

That silenced her. There was now a big red mark on the left side of her cheek were his hand had made contact with his face, and her terrified eyes were now firmly focused on his.

"Now then, where was I... Ah yes, now if you don't mind, I'll be taking my gun back now......." he said menacingly, his hand reaching out for the inside of Mizore's coat. For a brief second, Maxwell considered the idea of taking his frustration out on Mizore in a manner similar to what he had planned with Sarah Atwell before he'd been so rudely interrupted. However, that thought never went beyond its initial stages, because the moment Maxwell began to reach his arm out he suddenly stopped as some unseen figure began to threaten him. What the?!? Well, I guess she was telling the truth about her dangerous friends after all...

He turned his head towards the newcomer, and irritated scowl on his face. Unsurprisingly, he didn't recognise the boy who stood before him. He seemed quite tall, and his ethnicity was up for debate, but apart from that there wasn't anything particularly special about him. That being said, the sword that he was pointing at Maxwell caused him to raise his eyebrow in curiosity.

If there was one thing Maxwell loved more in the world than good literature and classical music, it would have to be his keen interest in swords and fencing. He could recognise the make of this boy's sword just by looking at it. A Chinese jian, unless he was mistaken. A very impressive weapon by all accounts, and whilst Maxwell personally preferred something more along the lines of a rapier or an estoc, he couldn't deny the appeal of a weapon so masterfully crafted as the one in this other boy's hands.

So naturally, Maxwell had virtually no intention of running off like some kind of coward. No, that kind of action was beneath him, especially seeing as he could easily take this bastard out without him even realising what had happened to him. However, that didn't change the fact that he still stuck in a fairly sticky situation. He could try to grab his gun from Mizore's pocket, but something told him that doing so would leave him wide open to attack. Then again, if he was quick... No, it was far too risky. A much better idea would be to figure out some way of distracting him so he could make his attack whilst his guard was down.

It didn't take long for Maxwell to figure out a way to do so, a confident smirk on his lips. "Well, if you wanted her THAT badly, then here..." he said, grabbing by her shoulder and shoving her in the boy's direction. "...TAKE her!"

The boy obviously hadn't expected him to make such a move, judging from the way he clumsily opened his arms to grab Mizore as she stumbled over towards him. That was enough of a distraction for Maxwell to make his move, the ambitious young killer taking the opportunity to run up towards the two and deliver a kick to Mizore's back, pushing her and and his opponent over and landing on top of one another. As this this happened, the boy let go of his sword, allowing Maxwell to swoop down and make a grab for it.

However, before he could retrieve the magnificent blade, Maxwell was distracted by the sound of a second opponent running towards him, brandishing a wavy dagger his hand as his eyes locked onto Maxwell's. Great, another bloody oriental... Why is it that half the fucking island seems to be infested with the bastards?

Whilst this second opponent seemed quick, Maxwell's reactions were faster, and he easily managed to grab him by the wrist before he could bring his dagger down on Maxwell's neck. After taking the opportunity to note the vengeful look in his eyes, Maxwell quickly responded by delivering a brutal punch to his opponent's stomach, followed by a quick movement that allowed him to deftly kick his opponent in the back and send him flying face first into the ground.

However, Maxwell's victory was short lived, and before he could even begin to gloat Maxwell briefly spotted his first opponent out of the corner of his eye shortly before his fist made contact with the side of Maxwell's face.

The young Brit stumbled back, his hand feeling where he had been hit and he dodged the blows that his opponent attempted to rain upon him. Whilst he couldn't tell for sure, Maxwell was almost certain that the big lummox had managed to dislodge a tooth, Bastard! Oh well, nothing a little bit of surgery can't fix up within seconds...

Not wishing to be on the defensive any longer, Maxwell quickly began his counter-attack, delivering a harsh shin kick to his opponent's ribs followed by another to his leg. He jumped back immediately afterwards before his opponent could retaliate, a sadistic smile on his face as he circled his target. Of course, he hadn't forgotten about the other boy who seemed dead set on killing him, and anticipated the blow that he attempted to give him before delivering a painful counter-attack that sent his oriental opponent flying backwards once again.

It was at this point that Maxwell realised that it wouldn't be wise to try and take on two opponents at once, so ideally he should take one of them out quickly before they finally gain the upper hand and overpower him. After all, its only a matter of time before he'll begin to tire out and drop his guard, and the last thing Maxwell wanted was to give his newfound friends a chance to dogpile him.

After several minutes of fighting off two people at once, Maxwell eventually found his chance to take one of them out when he noticed that his first opponent had left himself wide open, giving him the perfect opportunity to rain his own series of blows on the smug bastard who had honestly tried to threaten him. To his credit though, the son of a bitch managed to block the first couple of strikes, but it wasn't long until one of Maxwell's punches made its way past his defence and struck him right across the face, followed by another swift blow, and another, and another...

Then, after landing a series of hard blows, Maxwell decided to finish it off with a vicious roundhouse kick to the face, knocking his opponent off his feet and landing him face down in the dirt. A victorious smile crossed Maxwell's lips as he admired his handiwork, taking the opportunity to spit down onto the body of his fallen foe.

"Well, one down, two to g-" WHAM!

The moment Maxwell turned to face his remaining opponent, he found himself on the receiving end of a particularly painful hook that actually managed to knock him off his feet, the young Brit looking up from where he fell to find the Japanese boy hold something metal in his right hand. Sneaky son of a bitch...

He clutched his recently stitched wound as a wave of pain suddenly flowed throughout his body, forcing himself onto his feet to face the enraged boy who stood before him. In all the excitement, Maxwell had almost completely forgotten about the fact that he still needed to recover from his injury, the pain of which only occurred to him after he actually took note of it. Goddamnit, I should be resting this arm, not getting into more fist fights... Damn, I'll deal with this guy quickly, kill Mizore, then head out. Sounds like a perfect plan.

There was something about the boy standing before him that intrigued him. It wasn't just the hateful look in his eyes, or even the fact that he was probably the fourth asian person he'd bumped into on the island, but judging from all the bruises and injuries on his body the man had obviously seen just as much action as he had. Was it possibly that the son of a bitch standing before him was one of the many fellow players he'd heard about during that announcements?

Either way, the fact still remained that he tried to kill him earlier, and as far as Maxwell was concerned that was a good enough excuse to show him what had happened to damn near everyone else on the island who had ever dared to lay a finger on him.

And so, the two began to fight one another once more, only this time Maxwell managed to toy with his opponent a little seeing as he didn't have to worry about his friend interfering for at least a while. He dodged a punch, attempted his own counter-attack, missed said counter-attack, blocked another punch, recoiled from a well aimed kick, delivered his own kick in response, and so on and so forth until the two of them were practically sweating.

Maxwell's eyes once again caught the metal cylindrical object that his opponent was using as a poor man's knuckleduster. Getting hit in the face once with that thing was bad enough, but getting hit with it twice was something he'd much rather avoid. So naturally, the next thing Maxwell did was make a grab for it and attempt to pry the blasted thing from his opponent's grasp.

But struggled briefly, but after one swift kick the chest his opponent had been knocked onto his back, and Maxwell held the cylinder in his own hands. Maxwell couldn't help but smile smugly as he noticed how his opponent began to grovel before him, blocking his eyes with his arm. HA! At least this idiot can tell when he's been beaten. Now I just have to...

...Wait, is that a pin in his hand?

He looked down at the cylinder, his confident expression turning into pure fear within seconds

It was a grenade.

And his opponent had the pin.


Whilst Maxwell had been quick enough to throw it away before it could go off in his hand, it had only flown a few feet away from him before a deafening bang killed his hearing, and a bright white light blinded him to his surroundings. For a moment he just stood there, his hands covering his eyes as he screamed in agony. FUCKING HELL!!! Son of a bitch, where is he?!? I'll ripping his fucking heart ou-

He was suddenly and violently interrupted mid-thought as an unseen fist made contact with his face, sending his dislodged tooth flying out of his mouth. This was soon followed by another punch, and another, and a whole host of others as Maxwell found himself on the receiving end of a vicious beatdown.

He couldn't move. He couldn't see. He couldn't even properly hear what was happening around him. All he could tell was that someone (possibly even more that one person) was currently beating him to within an inch of his life.

And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
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