Somewhere in an unpopulated section of ElecTown Net, a small circle of floor panels spontaneously burst into flame. A man-sized fireball appeared hovering just above the ground, shimmering with heat before it dissipated. Where it had existed, ScorchMan dropped to the ground in a crouch, standing up with a grunt of effort as his bad leg twinged. "I need to find a way to jack in that doesn't jar my leg. How're we doing, Griffin?" he muttered, extending his senses out as he went. A wide semicircle of empty ground appeared to him, almost ghostlike in the vague heat of low-intensity processing; it would have appeared thoroughly unsafe to walk on for anyone with normal vision, but it was the only ground ScorchMan knew these days.
"You're all clear, Silver should be following you any minute now," came Griffin's reply. The man opened a window into the cyberworld from his PET, holographic image opening in front of him as he set the PET down in his lap. The window appeared as a flat, hovering screen, showing his face and hovering around ScorchMan; the Navi could roughly tell where it was, and that was all he needed.
And so ScorchMan sat, shoulders burning up and down with his steady breathing. He stood in the very spot he'd landed in, and waited for this new Navi that he'd just caught the slightest glimpse of earlier. Already, he wanted to see more of that dragon-Navi, and see just what might come of having a Navi capable of mental image-transfer around.
<(Waiting for Gwen)>
Virus Busting II: Electric Boogaloo
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A solitary bolt of lightning shot down from the sky, hitting the ground several feet from ScorchMan with a thunderous crash and the strong smell of ozone. Where the bolt had struck, Silver now stood, spreading his wings, and pawing at the ground in anticipation. He looked over at his new companion with some interest; needless to say, Silver didn't really know anyone other than Sir Nicholas, and the idea of working with a fellow Navi was really quite exciting. He slowly approached ScorchMan, fascinated at the differences between them, and yet they were still both Navi...instead of possessing claws, teeth and deadly breath as Silver did, ScorchMan used guns and power armor. These were both equally effective, and Silver briefly mused about what things would have been like if he had been in a human form instead...before firmly dismissing it as ridiculous, because dragons were by far superior. Yet ScorchMan agreed to work with him, wanted to work with him...
The silver dragon stopped just in front of where the other Navi sat, before gently crooning at him in a questioning tone. Silver had wanted to do his part, fight the good fight...but was at a loss as to what to do next.
The silver dragon stopped just in front of where the other Navi sat, before gently crooning at him in a questioning tone. Silver had wanted to do his part, fight the good fight...but was at a loss as to what to do next.
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ScorchMan jumped slightly at the sudden flash of heat, shining like a beacon in his heat-based vision. The jarring panic eased the moment the light faded, and the burning Navi got his first real face-to-face with the dragon called Silver. To ScorchMan, the drake shone with a bright, crackling light that belied his Elec-element; it was not quite the equal of the true appearance he'd gotten the slightest glimpse of earlier, but the heat-impression he picked up on was plenty regal enough.
The draconic Navi came to a halt of ScorchMan, and the burning Navi was somewhat taken-aback; he'd seen Silver in the prior vision, but hadn't quite cottoned on to the dragon's sheer size. "You're quite something to take in, I feel you should know," he remarked, keeping his tone wry to mask the shock he couldn't help but feel. There were moderately-customized Navis like him...and then there was Silver, who took any conceptions of standardization and...most likely ate them.
"Whoo-wee, ScorchMan, the two of you look pretty cool together!" Griffin catcalled, shattering the Navi's train of thought like a freight train through a window.
"Well, let's go searching for viruses, see if we still do after getting our hands dirty...or paws, I guess," ScorchMan muttered as an aside. He turned back to Silver. "Well, you're the one of us that can actually see. Pick a direction you think looks interesting and we'll set off; viruses never take long to show up out in deserted servers like this one," he suggested. To him, every direction looked precisely the same; aesthetics didn't exactly translate well into his heat-vision.
The draconic Navi came to a halt of ScorchMan, and the burning Navi was somewhat taken-aback; he'd seen Silver in the prior vision, but hadn't quite cottoned on to the dragon's sheer size. "You're quite something to take in, I feel you should know," he remarked, keeping his tone wry to mask the shock he couldn't help but feel. There were moderately-customized Navis like him...and then there was Silver, who took any conceptions of standardization and...most likely ate them.
"Whoo-wee, ScorchMan, the two of you look pretty cool together!" Griffin catcalled, shattering the Navi's train of thought like a freight train through a window.
"Well, let's go searching for viruses, see if we still do after getting our hands dirty...or paws, I guess," ScorchMan muttered as an aside. He turned back to Silver. "Well, you're the one of us that can actually see. Pick a direction you think looks interesting and we'll set off; viruses never take long to show up out in deserted servers like this one," he suggested. To him, every direction looked precisely the same; aesthetics didn't exactly translate well into his heat-vision.
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The dragon began surveying his surroundings, a bit at a loss. There appeared to be a collection of abandoned structures of some kind up ahead, which seemed a promising enough place to start looking. Silver looked to his companion, considering. He realized that if they were going to work together, they both would have to get used to the dragon's method of communication. Otherwise, trying to coordinate actions might get....difficult, to say the least.
Silver nudged ScorchMan's visor with his nose, and gruffed at him encouragingly. He then carefully projected his vision of their surroundings to the other Navi, trying to not overwhelm him as before, while showing the way ahead.... and flashing a short vision of the two of them striking badass poses to power metal chords.
Silver nudged ScorchMan's visor with his nose, and gruffed at him encouragingly. He then carefully projected his vision of their surroundings to the other Navi, trying to not overwhelm him as before, while showing the way ahead.... and flashing a short vision of the two of them striking badass poses to power metal chords.
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Operator and Navi alike watched Silver look around, scales glinting in the ambient sourceless light of the Net. The Operator looked at the way the powerful muscles in the dragon's long neck stretched and flexed, displaying a loving level of detail in his coding. The Navi, on the other hand, looked at the strength plainly evident in the muscles themselves; if push came to shove, even if he had a few fancy new chips to his name, this was a dragon he was not terribly enthused in going up against.
Then ScorchMan got that unintrusive little permission request in his head again, just like before, and he could almost feel Silver's presence right behind the mental window, pushing up and readied to reach into him. He took a deep breath and accepted the request, ready this time. The images he saw this time were still awe-inspiring to him in their own right, given the outright miracle of showing an image to a blind Navi, but he managed to keep his feet planted on the ground and focus on what he was being shown. There, a ways beyond his heat-sense's limit, was what looked to be an old abandoned district, architecture left to deteriorate from lack of upkeep. It was as good a direction as any, and ScorchMan nodded, satisfied with the usefulness this mental link was already showing off.
"Something up, ScorchMan? You got really quiet there for a sec," Griffin asked, brow furrowed just a titch.
"Ah, sorry, Silver was showing me the surroundings. I think we've got ourselves a bead, we'll be on our way now," ScorchMan replied, giving his Operator's video window a casual wave and starting in the direction Silver had pointed him in...and it was precisely this moment that the second part of the message came into his vision. Even as he tripped in surprise at the brassy guitar howling and the reminder of what he actually looked like these days (and good lord his scars looked horrific, he mused), he couldn't help but snort a bit in amusement. "What the hell, Silver, where'd that come from?" he asked, still snickering under his breath.
<(Searching for Battle #1)>
Then ScorchMan got that unintrusive little permission request in his head again, just like before, and he could almost feel Silver's presence right behind the mental window, pushing up and readied to reach into him. He took a deep breath and accepted the request, ready this time. The images he saw this time were still awe-inspiring to him in their own right, given the outright miracle of showing an image to a blind Navi, but he managed to keep his feet planted on the ground and focus on what he was being shown. There, a ways beyond his heat-sense's limit, was what looked to be an old abandoned district, architecture left to deteriorate from lack of upkeep. It was as good a direction as any, and ScorchMan nodded, satisfied with the usefulness this mental link was already showing off.
"Something up, ScorchMan? You got really quiet there for a sec," Griffin asked, brow furrowed just a titch.
"Ah, sorry, Silver was showing me the surroundings. I think we've got ourselves a bead, we'll be on our way now," ScorchMan replied, giving his Operator's video window a casual wave and starting in the direction Silver had pointed him in...and it was precisely this moment that the second part of the message came into his vision. Even as he tripped in surprise at the brassy guitar howling and the reminder of what he actually looked like these days (and good lord his scars looked horrific, he mused), he couldn't help but snort a bit in amusement. "What the hell, Silver, where'd that come from?" he asked, still snickering under his breath.
<(Searching for Battle #1)>
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((Softlocked - This one's mine until I'm done or the players ask for a switch.))
The way ahead, as it turned out, was full of holes. Literally. As the two navis made their way onto a solar panel-lined path, they would notice that much of the path had holes in it. Small holes, easy to go around, but holes nonetheless. They seemed to be recently dug out, if the fresh debris around each of them and occasionally recognizable remains of a smashed panel were any indication. Or the viruses just up ahead, digging more holes. Those might be a good indication too.
More specifically, a trio of metools were breaking up panels with their pickaxes, all under the supervision of a couple of floating viruses. No...three floating viruses. Two of them were pretty obvious, a pair of Volgears floating around the mets and keeping a lookout. Meanwhile the third, a head-shaped virus floating high above the field, didn't seem to be doing much of anything but staring off at the already dug out holes. Even the noise and the smoke let off by the Volgears as the two navis approached didn't seem to attract its attention.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP
Silver: 100 HP
---Viruses---
Metool A: 40 HP
Metool B: 40 HP
Metool C: 40 HP
Volgear A: 80 HP
Volgear B: 80 HP
Megalien-E: 130 HP (non-aggressive)
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Notes---
Non-aggressive: Virus will not attack unless attacked first
The way ahead, as it turned out, was full of holes. Literally. As the two navis made their way onto a solar panel-lined path, they would notice that much of the path had holes in it. Small holes, easy to go around, but holes nonetheless. They seemed to be recently dug out, if the fresh debris around each of them and occasionally recognizable remains of a smashed panel were any indication. Or the viruses just up ahead, digging more holes. Those might be a good indication too.
More specifically, a trio of metools were breaking up panels with their pickaxes, all under the supervision of a couple of floating viruses. No...three floating viruses. Two of them were pretty obvious, a pair of Volgears floating around the mets and keeping a lookout. Meanwhile the third, a head-shaped virus floating high above the field, didn't seem to be doing much of anything but staring off at the already dug out holes. Even the noise and the smoke let off by the Volgears as the two navis approached didn't seem to attract its attention.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP
Silver: 100 HP
---Viruses---
Metool A: 40 HP
Metool B: 40 HP
Metool C: 40 HP
Volgear A: 80 HP
Volgear B: 80 HP
Megalien-E: 130 HP (non-aggressive)
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Notes---
Non-aggressive: Virus will not attack unless attacked first
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The familiar smell of smoke reached ScorchMan's nose long before his vision caught up to the source. A shining pair of heat signatures glowed like embers to him; there were other Fire-types present. "Griffin, we've got company. Do we engage?" he asked, just making sure his Operator was on the same page as him.
"Make it so, ScorchMan! You and Silver should be able to handle these guys no problem," Griffin confirmed, flashing a thumbs-up to the camera regardless of whether his Navi could see it.
ScorchMan turned to the dragon in question, then to the various collection of viruses in front of him. There were three smaller ones that felt like Metools to him...but it never hurt to be careful. "Griffin, the three little ones...those are Metools, right?" he hazarded a guess. He heard his Operator hum in assent, and smirked. "Alright. Silver, you're new to this, aren't you? The three little ones there should make for an easy first bust. I'll tackle the Volgears, you take on the Metools; sound good?" He smirked, unsheathing his gun barrels with a metallic click. Thinking for a moment of any additional advice to the new Navi, he added, "Stick to the Solar panels where you have the advantage, and heckle them with ranged shots...oh and try not to hit me; I'm going in."
ScorchMan's vents came to life, gusting out hungry gouts of flame from every angle. The fire washed over his entire body, sheathing him in a protective, shimmering aura of his element. Like a dragon's opened maw, his buster-gauntlets came up, barrels alight with dancing embers. ScorchMan and his gauntlets roared, and along with the battle cry came a spiraling torrent of flame, screaming the length of the broken battleground towards the Volgear pair. There was only enough to the blaze to scorch one of them, but the burning Navi only needed to hit one.
"Griffin, it's time to try out our new chip!" ScorchMan called. His foot-vents lit up and he started to walk, leaving a trail of burning footprints in his wake.
"New chip, new chip...you mean the Quake?" Griffin asked, taking a look at the two newest chips and taking a wild guess as to which one his Navi meant.
"No...I meant the HammerToss," came the reply, accompanied with a smokey sigh. Thankfully, Griffin was quick on the draw, and the Battlechip was slotted in without any further fuss. Loading the chip, ScorchMan was presented with a very simple weapon: a round iron ball, connected to a handle with a short metal cord. He examined the hammer for a brief moment, giving it an experimental swing by the handle before nodded, satisfied. "I can work with this," the self-immolated Navi hummed to himself, turning his attention back to the Volgear pair.
A weapon like this needed to be used at close range, ScorchMan mused, and thus getting in closer was necessary. However, the holes the Metools had oh-so-helpfully poked in the landscape would make closing the distance difficult...unless he chose to try and avoid the issue entirely. His sole-vents flared up and the Navi dropped to a low crouch, building power in his legs for an explosive leap. He uncoiled like a wound spring, and his feet blasted flame behind him like a somewhat-improvised pair of rocket boots. It wasn't elegant, or even really any safer than crossing the field of pitfalls (there was always the danger of dropping straight into one like a basketball shot from downtown), but it was ScorchMan's way, and he was sticking with it.
Landing, for better or worse, he sized up the competition, as close as he could manage. His hammer started spinning, first above his head, then fully committing into a full spin when the momentum got too strong. Seeing anything with normal vision would have been a stretch; for the blind Navi, the wild blurring heat-signatures quickly became unreadable. Even so, he rationed that no plan survived contact with opposition, and followed through to completion. When there was nothing more to be done, he let go of the handle, and aimed as much for the opposite Volgear as he could. Faith willing, one had gotten a taste of his flame, both had been knocked about by his spinning, and the other was finished off by the released hammer.
The immolated Navi stood tall and proud...or would have, if the unfortunate side-effects of spinning around a whole bunch hadn't chosen that particular moment. "Pffhahaha...Scorch, bro, you alright?" Griffin snickered, unable to resist having a good yuk at his Navi's expense.
"I'll let you know when the Net stops spinning...whoooooo..." ScorchMan grimaced, trying not to stagger about like a drunk and...somewhat succeeding; there was just a bit too much obvious correction in his stance for him to look that convincing. "I need a better way to use that one," he groaned, puffing a bit of smoke out his nose and finally righting himself. "Alright, I think I'm good; hopefully Silver's managing alright."
-Turn Summary-
1. Signature: Conflagration: VolgearA [40 [color=red]Fire[/color] {A}, 20 HP Barrier]
2. Take Aim: VolgearA, B [Next chip's accuracy increased]
3. HammerToss1: VolgearA, B [40 [color=grey]Null[/color] {B+}, Break, Spin Attack], then to VolgearB [80 [color=grey]Null[/color] {C+}, Break] [Accuracy Up]
"Make it so, ScorchMan! You and Silver should be able to handle these guys no problem," Griffin confirmed, flashing a thumbs-up to the camera regardless of whether his Navi could see it.
ScorchMan turned to the dragon in question, then to the various collection of viruses in front of him. There were three smaller ones that felt like Metools to him...but it never hurt to be careful. "Griffin, the three little ones...those are Metools, right?" he hazarded a guess. He heard his Operator hum in assent, and smirked. "Alright. Silver, you're new to this, aren't you? The three little ones there should make for an easy first bust. I'll tackle the Volgears, you take on the Metools; sound good?" He smirked, unsheathing his gun barrels with a metallic click. Thinking for a moment of any additional advice to the new Navi, he added, "Stick to the Solar panels where you have the advantage, and heckle them with ranged shots...oh and try not to hit me; I'm going in."
ScorchMan's vents came to life, gusting out hungry gouts of flame from every angle. The fire washed over his entire body, sheathing him in a protective, shimmering aura of his element. Like a dragon's opened maw, his buster-gauntlets came up, barrels alight with dancing embers. ScorchMan and his gauntlets roared, and along with the battle cry came a spiraling torrent of flame, screaming the length of the broken battleground towards the Volgear pair. There was only enough to the blaze to scorch one of them, but the burning Navi only needed to hit one.
"Griffin, it's time to try out our new chip!" ScorchMan called. His foot-vents lit up and he started to walk, leaving a trail of burning footprints in his wake.
"New chip, new chip...you mean the Quake?" Griffin asked, taking a look at the two newest chips and taking a wild guess as to which one his Navi meant.
"No...I meant the HammerToss," came the reply, accompanied with a smokey sigh. Thankfully, Griffin was quick on the draw, and the Battlechip was slotted in without any further fuss. Loading the chip, ScorchMan was presented with a very simple weapon: a round iron ball, connected to a handle with a short metal cord. He examined the hammer for a brief moment, giving it an experimental swing by the handle before nodded, satisfied. "I can work with this," the self-immolated Navi hummed to himself, turning his attention back to the Volgear pair.
A weapon like this needed to be used at close range, ScorchMan mused, and thus getting in closer was necessary. However, the holes the Metools had oh-so-helpfully poked in the landscape would make closing the distance difficult...unless he chose to try and avoid the issue entirely. His sole-vents flared up and the Navi dropped to a low crouch, building power in his legs for an explosive leap. He uncoiled like a wound spring, and his feet blasted flame behind him like a somewhat-improvised pair of rocket boots. It wasn't elegant, or even really any safer than crossing the field of pitfalls (there was always the danger of dropping straight into one like a basketball shot from downtown), but it was ScorchMan's way, and he was sticking with it.
Landing, for better or worse, he sized up the competition, as close as he could manage. His hammer started spinning, first above his head, then fully committing into a full spin when the momentum got too strong. Seeing anything with normal vision would have been a stretch; for the blind Navi, the wild blurring heat-signatures quickly became unreadable. Even so, he rationed that no plan survived contact with opposition, and followed through to completion. When there was nothing more to be done, he let go of the handle, and aimed as much for the opposite Volgear as he could. Faith willing, one had gotten a taste of his flame, both had been knocked about by his spinning, and the other was finished off by the released hammer.
The immolated Navi stood tall and proud...or would have, if the unfortunate side-effects of spinning around a whole bunch hadn't chosen that particular moment. "Pffhahaha...Scorch, bro, you alright?" Griffin snickered, unable to resist having a good yuk at his Navi's expense.
"I'll let you know when the Net stops spinning...whoooooo..." ScorchMan grimaced, trying not to stagger about like a drunk and...somewhat succeeding; there was just a bit too much obvious correction in his stance for him to look that convincing. "I need a better way to use that one," he groaned, puffing a bit of smoke out his nose and finally righting himself. "Alright, I think I'm good; hopefully Silver's managing alright."
-Turn Summary-
1. Signature: Conflagration: VolgearA [40 [color=red]Fire[/color] {A}, 20 HP Barrier]
2. Take Aim: VolgearA, B [Next chip's accuracy increased]
3. HammerToss1: VolgearA, B [40 [color=grey]Null[/color] {B+}, Break, Spin Attack], then to VolgearB [80 [color=grey]Null[/color] {C+}, Break] [Accuracy Up]
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<(Due to IRL stuff, it can be safely assumed that Gwen won't be showing up anytime soon. I'd like to request Silver be ejected, and ScorchMan continue on solo.)>
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All of a sudden, like a bad connection, Silver disappeared from the net. Fortunately, he was returned safely to his PET, with no data lost. Awfully understanding bad connection, that.
Now if only the viruses were equally understanding.
But no. Two of the Metools were thoroughly confused by what happened and just stood there. But the third took the opportunity to attack ScorchMan, and would have done a small amount of damage were it not for the flame barrier that went up shortly before. As for the Volgears, they had only a few seconds to rev up their internal furnaces before a combination of a flameburst and a big metal ball deleted both of them.
Meanwhile, seeing that the group had come under attack, the Megalien floating overhead began to fly off.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP (Barrier: 10/20 HP)
Silver: Ejected
---Viruses---
Metool A: 40 HP
Metool B: 40 HP
Metool C: 40 HP
Volgear A: Deleted
Volgear B: Deleted
Megalien-E: 130 HP (non-aggressive) (Retreating)
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Notes---
Non-aggressive: Virus will not attack unless attacked first
Now if only the viruses were equally understanding.
But no. Two of the Metools were thoroughly confused by what happened and just stood there. But the third took the opportunity to attack ScorchMan, and would have done a small amount of damage were it not for the flame barrier that went up shortly before. As for the Volgears, they had only a few seconds to rev up their internal furnaces before a combination of a flameburst and a big metal ball deleted both of them.
Meanwhile, seeing that the group had come under attack, the Megalien floating overhead began to fly off.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP (Barrier: 10/20 HP)
Silver: Ejected
---Viruses---
Metool A: 40 HP
Metool B: 40 HP
Metool C: 40 HP
Volgear A: Deleted
Volgear B: Deleted
Megalien-E: 130 HP (non-aggressive) (Retreating)
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Notes---
Non-aggressive: Virus will not attack unless attacked first
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ScorchMan stood tall and proud, feeling the heat of the furnace-viruses gutter out and dissipate around him. His element roiled and flowed around him, cradling him in a protective haze of purest flame, Halloween-orange and chimney-red. The burning Navi cast his heat-sight out, certain that the battle was won. "Silver, how'd it go?" he called across the battlefield...only to receive no telepathic answer. "Silver? Where are you?" He wasn't certain whether this was one of the dragon's pranks, or a genuine disappearance.
And then a shockwave slammed into him from behind, not enough to make it through his barrier, but enough to send ScorchMan stumbling forward a few steps. He whirled around, searching for the source of the attack, and found the three Metool-signatures exactly where they'd last been. "Griffin...where did Silver go?" ScorchMan asked, throwing his arms into the air in his confusion.
"...You know, man, I really don't know," Griffin replied, sheepish; he'd taken his eyes off the fight for a brief moment to yawn and stretch, and seconds later, Silver and his Operator alike had vanished entirely. He couldn't shake the feeling that something supremely odd had just happened to the universe. "Nevermind him, though. You've taken down Mets before; take the Heatshot and the Cannon, peg 'em from a distance." Griffin did his best to shrug off the strange sensation, slotting in two chips and kicking back to watch, shivering slightly despite his thick firefighter's turnout. The bench felt distinctly empty to him, now that Nicholas had vanished.
ScorchMan, not for the first time in his virtual 'life', cursed his ruined vision. He could feel out the terrain to a passable degree, and the Metools were bright enough in his heat-sense that accuracy wasn't so much a problem, but there was very little way of knowing where he had a clear shot. He reasoned out that if a shockwave had reached him, at least one Metool had a clear path going towards him...which meant that the reverse was true as well. His arm raised up, Cannon loading into his right Scorch Buster; just as it had before, the gauntlet unfolded, metal shifting and reconfiguring into a boxy grey arm-cannon. Pulsing a wave of heat right down the lane the Metool had fired along, ScorchMan waited until he had a full image in his head of the little hardhat virus. Only then did he fire, Cannon reporting with a sharp whipcrack of displaced air; disproportionate retribution, perhaps, given the difference in strength between the initial assault and his retort, but...well, what with his busting partner having vanished, he had much less room to muck about than originally planned.
Griffin chose this moment to chime in, "Yo, ScorchMan, I've got an idea. See the hole in the ground, 'round about your...2-o-clock?"
ScorchMan cast his vision out; sure enough, there was a very obvious patch of nothingness in the middle of the floor. "Yeah, I see it. What about it?" he queried, shucking the empty Cannon graphic off as he cast his sightless gaze skyward.
"Why don't you try getting behind the hole?" Griffin suggested, "Their shockwaves travel along the ground, right? If there's no ground, you've effectively got cover...ironic as it is."
Not entirely sure but choosing to trust his Operator's judgement, ScorchMan took to moving. Thankfully, as long as he kept gusting heat along the ground, he could feel out the shape of the hole, and positioned himself just behind it. He felt very strange, trusting a hole in the ground over, say, a solid cover to protect himself with, but it made enough sense for him to continue on anyway. "Here goes nothing," the burning Navi set his stance, feeling out the Metool vanguard across from him. His buster-gauntlet, having reverted back to its standard configuration, unfurled its barrel in preparation for the Heatshot.
*FWOOSH*
The sound of the Heatshot lighting up was an entirely different beast to the earlier Cannon; where one was a short, sharp shock, the other was a rushing wave of noise. It was the sound of a gust of heat escaping ScorchMan's buster, taking the form of a crackling fireball that sailed the length of the demolished battlefield. The Fire-elemental grinned a little despite himself; with any luck, the volatile flames would be hungry enough to consume both remaining Metools, provided they cooperated and lined themselves up for him.
His gun-barrel retracted, and ScorchMan relaxed from his firing stance. His heat-sense unfolded, searching for any targets that managed to survive the onslaught. Between his negative-cover and his flaming aura, he was comfortable in his defence.
-Turn Summary-
1. Cannon: MetoolC [60 [color=grey]Null[/color], Knockback]
2. Movement: put a patch of Broken terrain between ScorchMan and Metool group
3. Heatshot: Metools A, B [45 [color=red]Fire[/color], Spread1]
And then a shockwave slammed into him from behind, not enough to make it through his barrier, but enough to send ScorchMan stumbling forward a few steps. He whirled around, searching for the source of the attack, and found the three Metool-signatures exactly where they'd last been. "Griffin...where did Silver go?" ScorchMan asked, throwing his arms into the air in his confusion.
"...You know, man, I really don't know," Griffin replied, sheepish; he'd taken his eyes off the fight for a brief moment to yawn and stretch, and seconds later, Silver and his Operator alike had vanished entirely. He couldn't shake the feeling that something supremely odd had just happened to the universe. "Nevermind him, though. You've taken down Mets before; take the Heatshot and the Cannon, peg 'em from a distance." Griffin did his best to shrug off the strange sensation, slotting in two chips and kicking back to watch, shivering slightly despite his thick firefighter's turnout. The bench felt distinctly empty to him, now that Nicholas had vanished.
ScorchMan, not for the first time in his virtual 'life', cursed his ruined vision. He could feel out the terrain to a passable degree, and the Metools were bright enough in his heat-sense that accuracy wasn't so much a problem, but there was very little way of knowing where he had a clear shot. He reasoned out that if a shockwave had reached him, at least one Metool had a clear path going towards him...which meant that the reverse was true as well. His arm raised up, Cannon loading into his right Scorch Buster; just as it had before, the gauntlet unfolded, metal shifting and reconfiguring into a boxy grey arm-cannon. Pulsing a wave of heat right down the lane the Metool had fired along, ScorchMan waited until he had a full image in his head of the little hardhat virus. Only then did he fire, Cannon reporting with a sharp whipcrack of displaced air; disproportionate retribution, perhaps, given the difference in strength between the initial assault and his retort, but...well, what with his busting partner having vanished, he had much less room to muck about than originally planned.
Griffin chose this moment to chime in, "Yo, ScorchMan, I've got an idea. See the hole in the ground, 'round about your...2-o-clock?"
ScorchMan cast his vision out; sure enough, there was a very obvious patch of nothingness in the middle of the floor. "Yeah, I see it. What about it?" he queried, shucking the empty Cannon graphic off as he cast his sightless gaze skyward.
"Why don't you try getting behind the hole?" Griffin suggested, "Their shockwaves travel along the ground, right? If there's no ground, you've effectively got cover...ironic as it is."
Not entirely sure but choosing to trust his Operator's judgement, ScorchMan took to moving. Thankfully, as long as he kept gusting heat along the ground, he could feel out the shape of the hole, and positioned himself just behind it. He felt very strange, trusting a hole in the ground over, say, a solid cover to protect himself with, but it made enough sense for him to continue on anyway. "Here goes nothing," the burning Navi set his stance, feeling out the Metool vanguard across from him. His buster-gauntlet, having reverted back to its standard configuration, unfurled its barrel in preparation for the Heatshot.
*FWOOSH*
The sound of the Heatshot lighting up was an entirely different beast to the earlier Cannon; where one was a short, sharp shock, the other was a rushing wave of noise. It was the sound of a gust of heat escaping ScorchMan's buster, taking the form of a crackling fireball that sailed the length of the demolished battlefield. The Fire-elemental grinned a little despite himself; with any luck, the volatile flames would be hungry enough to consume both remaining Metools, provided they cooperated and lined themselves up for him.
His gun-barrel retracted, and ScorchMan relaxed from his firing stance. His heat-sense unfolded, searching for any targets that managed to survive the onslaught. Between his negative-cover and his flaming aura, he was comfortable in his defence.
-Turn Summary-
1. Cannon: MetoolC [60 [color=grey]Null[/color], Knockback]
2. Movement: put a patch of Broken terrain between ScorchMan and Metool group
3. Heatshot: Metools A, B [45 [color=red]Fire[/color], Spread1]
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Sure enough, ScorchMan was able to avoid any further attacks just by hiding behind a hole. As an added bonus, he managed to defeat all three metools.
The Megalien, meanwhile, seems to have flown the coop, leaving ScorchMan alone with some virus remains and spoils of battle.. Will it be back? Who knows. Although you should probably assume it will. It most likely went looking for reinforcements. But fortunately, you can leave before it gets back, no problem.
On the other hand, there seems to be something shiny and glowing in the hole at your feet. Should you take a look?
[Examine shiny thing? Y/N]
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP [GET: 560z, Flameline1]
---Viruses---
Metool A: Deleted
Metool B: Deleted
Metool C: Deleted
Volgear A: Deleted
Volgear B: Deleted
Megalien-E: Retreated.
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
The Megalien, meanwhile, seems to have flown the coop, leaving ScorchMan alone with some virus remains and spoils of battle.. Will it be back? Who knows. Although you should probably assume it will. It most likely went looking for reinforcements. But fortunately, you can leave before it gets back, no problem.
On the other hand, there seems to be something shiny and glowing in the hole at your feet. Should you take a look?
[Examine shiny thing? Y/N]
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP [GET: 560
---Viruses---
Metool A: Deleted
Metool B: Deleted
Metool C: Deleted
Volgear A: Deleted
Volgear B: Deleted
Megalien-E: Retreated.
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
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"Burned to the ground, woo!" Griffin gave a celebratory fist to the skies at the nigh-flawless victory. ScorchMan chose not to emote so enthusiastically, picking his way around the pockmarked terrain with careful steps.
"I still don't understand what happened to Silver and Nicholas...but I guess I won't question it. Everything went fine regardless," the burning Navi allowed. His aura faded, bright healthy flames receding back into his core, the Navi's inner fires left to rest a minute. "More importantly...we have another new weapon."
"Oh?" Griffin watched his Navi beam up a handful of data; his PET chimed an instant later with a Zenny count and a cheerful request to 'please insert a blank Battlechip'. The specs on the FlameLine came up, and he grinned wide and happy. "So this came from the Volgears, yeah? That's so cool, we've only been at this a little bit and we've already doubled our collection!" ScorchMan smirked and nodded through the PET window.
"I'm a bit worried about where that Megalian's gone. Think we should beat it out of here before it gets back?" The Fire-elemental scratched his chin, casting his heat-sense around and plotting a route out through the holes.
"Sounds good, let's get outta..." Griffin trailed off, caught by a textbook case of Attention Deficit Ooh Shiny: his vision caught a glowing...something emanating from a hole right behind ScorchMan. "Hold that thought, bro. There's something shiny in the hole behind you; go and check it out. Maybe those viruses from earlier were digging for buried treasure?"
ScorchMan raised a finger in the air and opened his mouth, ready to counter with any number of reasonable arguments: the Megalian could be back any minute, why would there be buried treasure in ElecTown Net, why would viruses even be digging for buried treasure in the first place...and very slowly, his mouth closed, and his hand dropped. "One look. We'll take one look, and then we get out of here," he allowed, struggling to keep from admitting that he wanted to see the buried treasure. And yet, somehow, even being blind, Griffin's victorious smirk painted itself into the inside of ScorchMan's mind, dimpled stubble-y cheeks, pearly whites and all.
ScorchMan puffed out a fireball-accentuated sigh, and whirled around. Confirming with this Operator that yes, this was the right hole, he approached the edge of the pit and extended his heat-senses down, reaching as far as he dared to try and feel out the buried, glowing...whatever-it-was.
[Examine shiny thing Y]
"I still don't understand what happened to Silver and Nicholas...but I guess I won't question it. Everything went fine regardless," the burning Navi allowed. His aura faded, bright healthy flames receding back into his core, the Navi's inner fires left to rest a minute. "More importantly...we have another new weapon."
"Oh?" Griffin watched his Navi beam up a handful of data; his PET chimed an instant later with a Zenny count and a cheerful request to 'please insert a blank Battlechip'. The specs on the FlameLine came up, and he grinned wide and happy. "So this came from the Volgears, yeah? That's so cool, we've only been at this a little bit and we've already doubled our collection!" ScorchMan smirked and nodded through the PET window.
"I'm a bit worried about where that Megalian's gone. Think we should beat it out of here before it gets back?" The Fire-elemental scratched his chin, casting his heat-sense around and plotting a route out through the holes.
"Sounds good, let's get outta..." Griffin trailed off, caught by a textbook case of Attention Deficit Ooh Shiny: his vision caught a glowing...something emanating from a hole right behind ScorchMan. "Hold that thought, bro. There's something shiny in the hole behind you; go and check it out. Maybe those viruses from earlier were digging for buried treasure?"
ScorchMan raised a finger in the air and opened his mouth, ready to counter with any number of reasonable arguments: the Megalian could be back any minute, why would there be buried treasure in ElecTown Net, why would viruses even be digging for buried treasure in the first place...and very slowly, his mouth closed, and his hand dropped. "One look. We'll take one look, and then we get out of here," he allowed, struggling to keep from admitting that he wanted to see the buried treasure. And yet, somehow, even being blind, Griffin's victorious smirk painted itself into the inside of ScorchMan's mind, dimpled stubble-y cheeks, pearly whites and all.
ScorchMan puffed out a fireball-accentuated sigh, and whirled around. Confirming with this Operator that yes, this was the right hole, he approached the edge of the pit and extended his heat-senses down, reaching as far as he dared to try and feel out the buried, glowing...whatever-it-was.
[Examine shiny thing Y]
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The shiny thing was...a green mystery data!
Unfortunately, in the short time it took for ScorchMan to examine it, the ground underneath him started rumbling, and the next thing he knew several viruses had popped out of it. All of them were geared for subterranean exploration, and it seemed like this was where they popped up. Or, that was the easiest and most logical explanation at least, but one of them, a Momogra, popped up on the other side of the hole and tried to cover the mystery data with its shovel.
It wasn't the most effective thing by any stretch, but their intentions were clear, at least. The viruses wanted the Mystery Data for themselves.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP
---Viruses---
Momogra: 60 HP
Drixol A: 90 HP
Drixol B: 90 HP
Armadill A: 100 HP
Armadill B: 100 HP
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Other---
Green Mystery Data: 25 HP (in Broken)
Unfortunately, in the short time it took for ScorchMan to examine it, the ground underneath him started rumbling, and the next thing he knew several viruses had popped out of it. All of them were geared for subterranean exploration, and it seemed like this was where they popped up. Or, that was the easiest and most logical explanation at least, but one of them, a Momogra, popped up on the other side of the hole and tried to cover the mystery data with its shovel.
It wasn't the most effective thing by any stretch, but their intentions were clear, at least. The viruses wanted the Mystery Data for themselves.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP
---Viruses---
Momogra: 60 HP
Drixol A: 90 HP
Drixol B: 90 HP
Armadill A: 100 HP
Armadill B: 100 HP
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Other---
Green Mystery Data: 25 HP (in Broken)
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"Awesome, Mystery Data! Go and pop that sucker open, ScorchMan, let's see what we get this time!" Griffin was particularly enthused at the sight of real buried treasure. The sight of the shining gem in the hole brought his mind back to halcyon days of childhood, spent digging down the shoreline of Beach Street. As he sit and grinned to himself, he noted ScorchMan still in the window, shoulders flaring in alarm. "What's up, bro?" he asked.
"We've got company," was the burning Navi's only reply. His right Scorch Buster unfurled its barrel, orange-yellow flames already flickering from the cooling jacket. "Seems we're the raider pirates to their expedition team," he quipped, ready to flare up at any moment.
Griffin scratched his chin, eyes flicking from the virus readout on his PET to the actual battlefield. "I'd say those Drixols are the most immediate threat to you. Got any plans on how you'll deal with them?" he flipped through their chip folder, stopping at the FlameLine and letting out a little, "Ooooh..."
"The FlameLine, and..." ScorchMan went over their arsenal in his head, thinking over all the ways he could go about this, "the RageClaw. If I'm lucky, I can take both of them down before they get to be too much of a headache."
"Go for it, man," Griffin nodded, slotting the two requested chips in. "Happy hunting, ScorchMan!"
The RageClaw was loaded into one of ScorchMan's gauntlets, gunmetal plates shifting and reorienting as the Scorch Buster accepted the data. The cannon-tip disappeared, in favour of a triad of spade-like claws. He ran his other hand over the new digits for a brief moment, noting the large scoop in their curve. "This'll take some luck...so let's see how lucky I am today!" he shouted, finally going into full ignition and beginning his assault.
A triumphant fireball from his chest-vents announced better than any words the full scope of ScorchMan's battle readiness. "Griffin, which virus is the nearest Drixol?" he shouted, already leaning down into a mild crouch. His Operator provided the necessary information, and all of ScorchMan's senses immediately honed in on the indicated heat-source. The burning Navi's legs lit up in bursts of flame, traveling down his various vents until finally his boots ignited, propelling him rapidly towards his target. It was less any manner of true flight, and more along the lines of a jet-propelled collision course...and ScorchMan was well on his way to meeting his target claws-first. For better or worse, he landed with minimal jarring to his bad leg, adjusting as best as he could to keep too much pressure off it, and bringing his RageClaw up.
In the split-second between bringing the claw up and swiping it, ScorchMan's heat-sense washed over the battlefield, reading the many sources: he was in front of one Drixol, the bright subterranean gleam could only be the Mystery Data, and right...there was a source identical in shape and feel to his current target. It was the barest flicker of a moment, equivalent to darting your eyes around your peripheral vision, and it was all ScorchMan needed. All in one harsh, martial movement, he took a step forward and brought his claws around in a vicious swipe. The attack in itself wouldn't be overly painful, if perhaps a little disorienting; the true purpose was in getting both viruses in one place, and weakening them for a larger, more powerful kill-stroke.
Plans in place, flame-vents ignited yet again in bursts of incandescent heat. His shoulders blasted great swathes of flame like wings, and his boots kicked off the ground, and for a brief moment the Fire-elemental almost seemed to soar like a burning angel. Of course, Griffin and all present opponents would only too easily be able to spot the obvious arc, and subsequent descent to the Navi's would-be flight. That aside, the jump was nothing if not bombastic, and this was exactly aligned with ScorchMan's plan: baiting the Drixols to come after him, rushing forward with full intent of payback.
Like clockwork, for all that the flight was eye-catching, he fumbled the landing on account of a hobbled leg. Griffin chimed in as he stood back up to full height, "Have you ever considered finding a new way to cover ground, man? That looks painful.
"We can discuss that later, viruses to burn now," came ScorchMan's terse reply, circulating fire through his left leg to dull the ache. Now that he'd gotten what he figured was enough distance, it was time for the finishing move: he loaded up the brand-new FlameLine, reveling in the powerful heat radiating from the contained data. "Yes," he thought to himself, "this will do nicely." Despite having never touched the chip besides the initial obtaining, ScorchMan felt he knew exactly how to use it. His feet came down upon the ground, stomping one at a time like a burning sumo fighter. He visibly took one deep breath, raised his arms above his head...and flexed and exhaled with an impressive fireball, vents from the thighs down saturating the ground around him with bright flames.
Several feet in front of him, with any luck right where the Drixols would be passing through to attack him, the ground glowed and shimmered before expelling a wide, blazing wall of fire. The wall was so bright as to overwhelm ScorchMan's heat-sense, overshadowing everything before him; his will to destroy all the while blazing and burning, fierce and bright. "Come on and get some, then! I dare you!" Scorchman's hot blood spoke for him, waiting for the feeling of his flames consuming the unwitting be-taunted.
"Uhh...bro, you know that if the Drixols don't get deleted by this, they can just teleport and get you through another angle? Griffin pointed out, doing his best to be helpful. Unfortunately for the firefighter, his Navi's blood was running too hot to listen to things like reason. "Jeez..." he grinned despite himself, "Do all guys that operate Fire-elements have this issue?"
-Turn Summary-
1. RageClaw1 (Throw): DrixolA to DrixolB [20 [color=grey]Null[/color] {B}, Impact] (5/6 uses remaining)
2. Movement: Jump back, bait Drixols
3. FlameLine1: DrixolA, B [70 [color=red]Fire[/color] {B}, Ground Attack, Wide Attack]
"We've got company," was the burning Navi's only reply. His right Scorch Buster unfurled its barrel, orange-yellow flames already flickering from the cooling jacket. "Seems we're the raider pirates to their expedition team," he quipped, ready to flare up at any moment.
Griffin scratched his chin, eyes flicking from the virus readout on his PET to the actual battlefield. "I'd say those Drixols are the most immediate threat to you. Got any plans on how you'll deal with them?" he flipped through their chip folder, stopping at the FlameLine and letting out a little, "Ooooh..."
"The FlameLine, and..." ScorchMan went over their arsenal in his head, thinking over all the ways he could go about this, "the RageClaw. If I'm lucky, I can take both of them down before they get to be too much of a headache."
"Go for it, man," Griffin nodded, slotting the two requested chips in. "Happy hunting, ScorchMan!"
The RageClaw was loaded into one of ScorchMan's gauntlets, gunmetal plates shifting and reorienting as the Scorch Buster accepted the data. The cannon-tip disappeared, in favour of a triad of spade-like claws. He ran his other hand over the new digits for a brief moment, noting the large scoop in their curve. "This'll take some luck...so let's see how lucky I am today!" he shouted, finally going into full ignition and beginning his assault.
A triumphant fireball from his chest-vents announced better than any words the full scope of ScorchMan's battle readiness. "Griffin, which virus is the nearest Drixol?" he shouted, already leaning down into a mild crouch. His Operator provided the necessary information, and all of ScorchMan's senses immediately honed in on the indicated heat-source. The burning Navi's legs lit up in bursts of flame, traveling down his various vents until finally his boots ignited, propelling him rapidly towards his target. It was less any manner of true flight, and more along the lines of a jet-propelled collision course...and ScorchMan was well on his way to meeting his target claws-first. For better or worse, he landed with minimal jarring to his bad leg, adjusting as best as he could to keep too much pressure off it, and bringing his RageClaw up.
In the split-second between bringing the claw up and swiping it, ScorchMan's heat-sense washed over the battlefield, reading the many sources: he was in front of one Drixol, the bright subterranean gleam could only be the Mystery Data, and right...there was a source identical in shape and feel to his current target. It was the barest flicker of a moment, equivalent to darting your eyes around your peripheral vision, and it was all ScorchMan needed. All in one harsh, martial movement, he took a step forward and brought his claws around in a vicious swipe. The attack in itself wouldn't be overly painful, if perhaps a little disorienting; the true purpose was in getting both viruses in one place, and weakening them for a larger, more powerful kill-stroke.
Plans in place, flame-vents ignited yet again in bursts of incandescent heat. His shoulders blasted great swathes of flame like wings, and his boots kicked off the ground, and for a brief moment the Fire-elemental almost seemed to soar like a burning angel. Of course, Griffin and all present opponents would only too easily be able to spot the obvious arc, and subsequent descent to the Navi's would-be flight. That aside, the jump was nothing if not bombastic, and this was exactly aligned with ScorchMan's plan: baiting the Drixols to come after him, rushing forward with full intent of payback.
Like clockwork, for all that the flight was eye-catching, he fumbled the landing on account of a hobbled leg. Griffin chimed in as he stood back up to full height, "Have you ever considered finding a new way to cover ground, man? That looks painful.
"We can discuss that later, viruses to burn now," came ScorchMan's terse reply, circulating fire through his left leg to dull the ache. Now that he'd gotten what he figured was enough distance, it was time for the finishing move: he loaded up the brand-new FlameLine, reveling in the powerful heat radiating from the contained data. "Yes," he thought to himself, "this will do nicely." Despite having never touched the chip besides the initial obtaining, ScorchMan felt he knew exactly how to use it. His feet came down upon the ground, stomping one at a time like a burning sumo fighter. He visibly took one deep breath, raised his arms above his head...and flexed and exhaled with an impressive fireball, vents from the thighs down saturating the ground around him with bright flames.
Several feet in front of him, with any luck right where the Drixols would be passing through to attack him, the ground glowed and shimmered before expelling a wide, blazing wall of fire. The wall was so bright as to overwhelm ScorchMan's heat-sense, overshadowing everything before him; his will to destroy all the while blazing and burning, fierce and bright. "Come on and get some, then! I dare you!" Scorchman's hot blood spoke for him, waiting for the feeling of his flames consuming the unwitting be-taunted.
"Uhh...bro, you know that if the Drixols don't get deleted by this, they can just teleport and get you through another angle? Griffin pointed out, doing his best to be helpful. Unfortunately for the firefighter, his Navi's blood was running too hot to listen to things like reason. "Jeez..." he grinned despite himself, "Do all guys that operate Fire-elements have this issue?"
-Turn Summary-
1. RageClaw1 (Throw): DrixolA to DrixolB [20 [color=grey]Null[/color] {B}, Impact] (5/6 uses remaining)
2. Movement: Jump back, bait Drixols
3. FlameLine1: DrixolA, B [70 [color=red]Fire[/color] {B}, Ground Attack, Wide Attack]
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True to intentions, ScorchMan succeeded in grabbing the nearest Drixol, and slinging it into the other one. Disoriented and slightly damaged by the attack, they then proceeded to take ScorchMan's bait and drill straight across the field towards him.
Naturally, this didn't end well for them, and they went down in flames.
Meanwhile, the Armadills strafed along the field to line up with ScorchMan, but didn't attack just yet. Any second now, however, and they would start rollin'. The Momogra, meanwhile, disappeared back into the ground and started tunneling between the holes in the field.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP
---Viruses---
Momogra: 60 HP (Burrowed)
Drixol A: Deleted
Drixol B: Deleted
Armadill A: 100 HP (Preparing to attack)
Armadill B: 100 HP (Preparing to attack)
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Other---
Green Mystery Data: 25 HP (in Broken)
Naturally, this didn't end well for them, and they went down in flames.
Meanwhile, the Armadills strafed along the field to line up with ScorchMan, but didn't attack just yet. Any second now, however, and they would start rollin'. The Momogra, meanwhile, disappeared back into the ground and started tunneling between the holes in the field.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 100 HP
---Viruses---
Momogra: 60 HP (Burrowed)
Drixol A: Deleted
Drixol B: Deleted
Armadill A: 100 HP (Preparing to attack)
Armadill B: 100 HP (Preparing to attack)
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Other---
Green Mystery Data: 25 HP (in Broken)
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ScorchMan's heat sense washed over him like a particularly burning embrace. For want of long-destroyed eyes, he'd adopted the ability to see through heat, perceiving and feeling through it as other Navis might feel with standard scans and physical touch. If pushing heat against a virus to 'see' it was like learning its shape with gently tracing hands, he decided...the feeling of his FlameLine burning the two Drixols to nothing could be likened to those same hands tearing them apart, one layer of code at a time until he was ripping their core into shreds and feeling it all as intimately as though his own two hands were doing the work.
It was the most intense physical sensation he'd felt in a long time. And so it was that, despite the inherent grisliness in being able to feel the fire that burned the Drixols to ash, ScorchMan reveled in it, just a little. It took Griffin's somewhat-frantic shouts to break the trance: "ScorchMan? ScorchMan! Snap out of it, bro!"
With a shake of his head, the FlameLine disappeared, and ScorchMan relaxed his stance, looking a little sheepish. "Sorry, I had a bit of...I guess it was like tunnel vision, but with my heat-sense?" he mumbled, his vents chuffing out cool red firebursts every few seconds.
"Reign it in a little, man, still plenty to go. And those Armadills are gonna start peeling out any moment...you could do your trick with getting the hole between you and them? Any ideas, man?" Griffin wasn't even looking at their chip folder at this point, engrossed as he was in the imminent danger of the two riled-up Armadills, and the Momogra that had utterly disappeared from view.
"...HammerToss."
The terse reply nearly made Griffin fall off his bench. "You mean, like...the chip, HammerToss, as in you intend to use it, as in these two Armadills are about to bum-rush you and not even your Conflagration fire-shield could really handle getting run over?" he clarified; had the fireman possessed a fringe, or indeed hair in general, his eyebrows would have straight-up disappeared into his hairline.
The burning Navi snorted, expelling a spurt of flame from his shoulder vents; the cool red fire of his prior embarrassment was gone, in favour of a bright, hot yellow blaze. "I wouldn't have gotten rid of those Drixols so quickly if I hadn't been good and gutsy about it. Same rules apply here: high risk, high reward!" ScorchMan was in fine, hot-blooded form, possibly to the point of overconfident...but in the end, Griffin just grinned and shook his head ruefully.
The chip was slotted in without any further fight, and Griffin let him at it with a final, "Just don't get tire-tread, O Tom the Toad," His Navi's annoyed huff at the old nursery rhyme made for quite an impressive fireball, Griffin mused, as he kicked back on his bench and settled in to watch the show.
ScorchMan stood stalwart, chest-vents glowing with heat. He slowly lowered his stance down, getting his hands in front of him as though he meant to catch the iron-clad viruses. In reality, he was getting ready to try faking them out, set them off on the wrong course while he strafed them. It would be a very near thing, but with any luck they'd both pass near enough for his HammerToss to give them a good thrashing. And so he stood, burning matador to his iron bulls, waiting for them to pick their courses...until he decided that waiting wasn't his style.
The walking torch took a deep breath, another for good measure, and then ignited his vents from the waist down, boots propelling him a few feet in the suddenness of the action. He didn't really know how viruses worked on a behavioural level, but he knew that sudden moves tended to startle certain real-world animals, such as bears, most big cats, and even bulls, into a chase reflex. ScorchMan figured he could use the mostly-linear nature of an Armadill's charge against it, and bait it into charging down the wrong line. He cut off his ignition before he could fly too far; with the abrupt lack of thrust, he fell right back down to solid ground...for just long enough for him to re-align himself, and let his boot-vents blast him the opposite direction instead.
Even after he'd gone to his liking, ScorchMan still wasn't done. His heat-sense cast out, feeling out the Armadills: their positioning, their alignments, all of it done to try and gauge a safe place to land and continue his evasions. His boots hit panels once more, and subsequently dropped as ScorchMan's bum leg gave out for a brief, terrifying moment. Griffin, watching from above, bit back a curse, but sighed the very next second. Somehow, against all odds, rather than land in a burning heap of limbs, he managed to level it out into a sideways combat roll. In that moment, giant steel shoulder-guards clanging on contact with the ground, ScorchMan forced his body to relax; a tense body couldn't move spontaneously as well as a limber one, and he needed to be on the ball in case he'd fumbled his manoeuvre. When he was satisfied...finally, he loaded up the HammerToss.
The ball-and-chain materialized in ScorchMan's hand just as he got to his feet. He brought his arm above his head, moving to grab the cord with his other hand (after making sure his RageClaw-transformed Buster didn't catch on it), and started swinging. Around and around the iron ball went, building enough momentum that were an Armadill to collide with it, the heavy weapon would have little trouble knocking it for a loop. In the back of his head, ScorchMan remembered the final remaining virus: a Momogra, tunneling somewhere beneath his feet. It would be all the more satisfying, he thought, if the little digger tried surfacing behind him, only to receive his HammerToss straight to the noggin.
When the little ball was whipping around ScorchMan so quickly that the centrifugal force was almost tearing it out of hands...ScorchMan let it fly. He kept his heat-sense locked on the Armadills, following them as best as he could, and from there it was as simple as lining up his swing and finally letting go of the handle. The iron ball sailed through the air, enough force behind it to put a sizable dent in whatever it happened to land on. As ScorchMan wound down, wincing a little as his leg announced its protests, he only just recalled the Mystery Data in the hole, which...honestly could have been anywhere, as lost in the battlefield as he was. He just settled down, and prayed that the next sound he heard would not be a glass-like smash.
=Turn Summary=
1. Feint: Bait Armadills down an attack path and sidestep
2. Dodge
3. HammerToss1: ArmadillsA & B, Momogra if it attempts to attack [40 [color=grey]Null[/color] (x2 against Armadills' MetalBody) {B}, Break, Spin Attack], then to ArmadillB [80 [color=grey]Null[/color] (x2 if against MetalBody) {C}, Break]
It was the most intense physical sensation he'd felt in a long time. And so it was that, despite the inherent grisliness in being able to feel the fire that burned the Drixols to ash, ScorchMan reveled in it, just a little. It took Griffin's somewhat-frantic shouts to break the trance: "ScorchMan? ScorchMan! Snap out of it, bro!"
With a shake of his head, the FlameLine disappeared, and ScorchMan relaxed his stance, looking a little sheepish. "Sorry, I had a bit of...I guess it was like tunnel vision, but with my heat-sense?" he mumbled, his vents chuffing out cool red firebursts every few seconds.
"Reign it in a little, man, still plenty to go. And those Armadills are gonna start peeling out any moment...you could do your trick with getting the hole between you and them? Any ideas, man?" Griffin wasn't even looking at their chip folder at this point, engrossed as he was in the imminent danger of the two riled-up Armadills, and the Momogra that had utterly disappeared from view.
"...HammerToss."
The terse reply nearly made Griffin fall off his bench. "You mean, like...the chip, HammerToss, as in you intend to use it, as in these two Armadills are about to bum-rush you and not even your Conflagration fire-shield could really handle getting run over?" he clarified; had the fireman possessed a fringe, or indeed hair in general, his eyebrows would have straight-up disappeared into his hairline.
The burning Navi snorted, expelling a spurt of flame from his shoulder vents; the cool red fire of his prior embarrassment was gone, in favour of a bright, hot yellow blaze. "I wouldn't have gotten rid of those Drixols so quickly if I hadn't been good and gutsy about it. Same rules apply here: high risk, high reward!" ScorchMan was in fine, hot-blooded form, possibly to the point of overconfident...but in the end, Griffin just grinned and shook his head ruefully.
The chip was slotted in without any further fight, and Griffin let him at it with a final, "Just don't get tire-tread, O Tom the Toad," His Navi's annoyed huff at the old nursery rhyme made for quite an impressive fireball, Griffin mused, as he kicked back on his bench and settled in to watch the show.
ScorchMan stood stalwart, chest-vents glowing with heat. He slowly lowered his stance down, getting his hands in front of him as though he meant to catch the iron-clad viruses. In reality, he was getting ready to try faking them out, set them off on the wrong course while he strafed them. It would be a very near thing, but with any luck they'd both pass near enough for his HammerToss to give them a good thrashing. And so he stood, burning matador to his iron bulls, waiting for them to pick their courses...until he decided that waiting wasn't his style.
The walking torch took a deep breath, another for good measure, and then ignited his vents from the waist down, boots propelling him a few feet in the suddenness of the action. He didn't really know how viruses worked on a behavioural level, but he knew that sudden moves tended to startle certain real-world animals, such as bears, most big cats, and even bulls, into a chase reflex. ScorchMan figured he could use the mostly-linear nature of an Armadill's charge against it, and bait it into charging down the wrong line. He cut off his ignition before he could fly too far; with the abrupt lack of thrust, he fell right back down to solid ground...for just long enough for him to re-align himself, and let his boot-vents blast him the opposite direction instead.
Even after he'd gone to his liking, ScorchMan still wasn't done. His heat-sense cast out, feeling out the Armadills: their positioning, their alignments, all of it done to try and gauge a safe place to land and continue his evasions. His boots hit panels once more, and subsequently dropped as ScorchMan's bum leg gave out for a brief, terrifying moment. Griffin, watching from above, bit back a curse, but sighed the very next second. Somehow, against all odds, rather than land in a burning heap of limbs, he managed to level it out into a sideways combat roll. In that moment, giant steel shoulder-guards clanging on contact with the ground, ScorchMan forced his body to relax; a tense body couldn't move spontaneously as well as a limber one, and he needed to be on the ball in case he'd fumbled his manoeuvre. When he was satisfied...finally, he loaded up the HammerToss.
The ball-and-chain materialized in ScorchMan's hand just as he got to his feet. He brought his arm above his head, moving to grab the cord with his other hand (after making sure his RageClaw-transformed Buster didn't catch on it), and started swinging. Around and around the iron ball went, building enough momentum that were an Armadill to collide with it, the heavy weapon would have little trouble knocking it for a loop. In the back of his head, ScorchMan remembered the final remaining virus: a Momogra, tunneling somewhere beneath his feet. It would be all the more satisfying, he thought, if the little digger tried surfacing behind him, only to receive his HammerToss straight to the noggin.
When the little ball was whipping around ScorchMan so quickly that the centrifugal force was almost tearing it out of hands...ScorchMan let it fly. He kept his heat-sense locked on the Armadills, following them as best as he could, and from there it was as simple as lining up his swing and finally letting go of the handle. The iron ball sailed through the air, enough force behind it to put a sizable dent in whatever it happened to land on. As ScorchMan wound down, wincing a little as his leg announced its protests, he only just recalled the Mystery Data in the hole, which...honestly could have been anywhere, as lost in the battlefield as he was. He just settled down, and prayed that the next sound he heard would not be a glass-like smash.
=Turn Summary=
1. Feint: Bait Armadills down an attack path and sidestep
2. Dodge
3. HammerToss1: ArmadillsA & B, Momogra if it attempts to attack [40 [color=grey]Null[/color] (x2 against Armadills' MetalBody) {B}, Break, Spin Attack], then to ArmadillB [80 [color=grey]Null[/color] (x2 if against MetalBody) {C}, Break]
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Sure enough, the Armadills started rollin'. They rolled right up to where ScorchMan stood, barreling right through...oh, no, wait, he dodged both of them. Well, that was anti-climactic. What would ScorchMan do next, jump over them? Or maybe he'd just step on the Momogra as it came up. How boring would that be?
Well, whatever boring evasion tactic ScorchMan would have in store next, it wouldn't be for the Armadills. Not when he smacked both of them around with a giant iron ball, then finished off one of them by throwing it. The other looked to be in pretty bad shape too.
As for the Momogra, it probably took offense at the ball and chain going whizzing over its patch of dirt, because seconds later it popped out of the ground behind ScorchMan and smacked him with a shovel.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 85 HP
---Viruses---
Momogra: 60 HP (Behind ScorchMan)
Drixol A: Deleted
Drixol B: Deleted
Armadill A: 20 HP
Armadill B: Deleted
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Other---
Green Mystery Data: 25 HP (in Broken)
Well, whatever boring evasion tactic ScorchMan would have in store next, it wouldn't be for the Armadills. Not when he smacked both of them around with a giant iron ball, then finished off one of them by throwing it. The other looked to be in pretty bad shape too.
As for the Momogra, it probably took offense at the ball and chain going whizzing over its patch of dirt, because seconds later it popped out of the ground behind ScorchMan and smacked him with a shovel.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 85 HP
---Viruses---
Momogra: 60 HP (Behind ScorchMan)
Drixol A: Deleted
Drixol B: Deleted
Armadill A: 20 HP
Armadill B: Deleted
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Other---
Green Mystery Data: 25 HP (in Broken)
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"HRRMPH!!"
ScorchMan's sense of balance, already precarious at best thanks to the dizzying effort of heaving the HammerToss, was most unprepared for a sudden impact in the small of his back. Any attempt at shouting an oath of surprise was very quickly censored by the ground as he ate virtual dirt, courtesy of the Momogra's shovel. Griffin, watching from the PET screen, couldn't help but chuckle a bit; he might have felt a little bad for laughing at a blind Navi, but if his status readout was right, the actual damage done hadn't been much. Still, he called down, "You alright there, bro?"
"Yeah, 's not that bad," ScorchMan admitted, climbing to his feet and casting his heat-sense behind him. He sighed in disgust, seeing the virus just barely protruding from its hidey-hole. "Trying to just cap the little bastard isn't gonna work. Griffin, what do we have that I could sink down his hole?"
Griffin rifled through their small collection of chips, giving each chip its due consideration. "Cannon, no...RageClaw, no...here we go, Quake! We got this one back in ACDC, give it a go!" The chip was slotted in and downloaded into ScorchMan's register; even with the concealing helmet, Griffin knew without even thinking that ScorchMan's brow was furrowed in concentration, studying the new data.
"Alright, loading up, and...HNNG!" One Scorch Buster reconfigured to accept the Quake chip, barrel unfolding into a solid gunmetal cigar-tube...and from the looks of ScorchMan's struggling, multiplying extensively in weight. "Heavy," he confirmed with a slight groan, supporting the arm-mounted howitzer with his opposite hand. The cannon was brought up higher and higher until he was holding it more or less right to get a cannonball sunk into the Momogra's hole. With the rough position set, ScorchMan cast his heat-sense out, feeling out the omnipresent signatures given off by every running process in the area. Chief among them was the Momogra, standing out from the ambient heat of the virtual turf as vivid as night and day. It wasn't a perfect system, and definitely not enough to completely compensate for his blindness, but it would work well enough for ScorchMan's purposes.
When the flame-Navi was convinced he had the angle right for what he was sensing, he let the mortar fire. A black ball burst from the converted buster, sailing in a textbook trajectory; meanwhile, ScorchMan massaged his arm as the gauntlet returned to its usual state, already turning to 'face' the other survivor. Behind his back, the Quake began transforming as it flew, the dense metal ball unfurling like origami-folded iron. Just as it came to rest above the Momogra's head, it finished its transformation into a solid black Powie, somehow orienting itself with the ground as it did so. Flat bottom perfectly level with the ground, it collided with a crunch of abused, splintering panels, burying itself somewhat into the already-unstable battlefield. It disappeared shortly after, the destruction it was meant to cause complete.
ScorchMan felt the impact of the Quake rumble through his boots, and smirked; years ago, he might have turned back to observe the effect the heavy press had on the terrain. It had taken a fair few reminders after he'd been blindness for him to realize that, lo and behold, cracked terrain doesn't really look that different from normal terrain when one's just looking at the heat-sigs. As it stood, he turned his attentions to the remaining Armadill. "Griffin, readout on this one?" he asked, wondering what would be enough to put the virus down for good.
"Just 20 left on it, man. Want a chip for the job?" Griffin replied, already glancing through for chips he thought the Navi might want. He wasn't altogether surprised to see ScorchMan shake his head.
"I've got this one," he brought both Scorch Busters up, taking a deep breath and reveling in the stoking of his internal flames. His shoulders and chest blazed yellow-orange in a brilliant surge, the fire spreading from his vents and licking at his armour, enshrouding him in its burning protection. The Navi-turned-Burning Man's gauntlets shone cherry-red, cooling jackets spewing flame out their riveting, and ScorchMan fired his Conflagration. The two streams of flame curled around one another, mixing into a unified torrent of flame that seared the length of the battlefield, ready to burn anything it crossed down to ashen data.
ScorchMan's inner fire flared once more, then died down to rest up. His gauntlets came down, barrels still extended, but ScorchMan's barrier remained shining bright. "Is it over?" he wondered aloud, guard relaxed behind his fiery aura.
=Turn Summary=
1. Take Aim: Momogra [Accuracy Up]
2. Quake1: Momogra [100 [color=grey]Null[/color] {C+ [Acc Up!]}, Impact, Medium Cracked Terrain]
3. Signature: Conflagration: ArmadillA [40 [color=red]Fire[/color] {A}, 20-HP Barrier]; 2TCD
ScorchMan's sense of balance, already precarious at best thanks to the dizzying effort of heaving the HammerToss, was most unprepared for a sudden impact in the small of his back. Any attempt at shouting an oath of surprise was very quickly censored by the ground as he ate virtual dirt, courtesy of the Momogra's shovel. Griffin, watching from the PET screen, couldn't help but chuckle a bit; he might have felt a little bad for laughing at a blind Navi, but if his status readout was right, the actual damage done hadn't been much. Still, he called down, "You alright there, bro?"
"Yeah, 's not that bad," ScorchMan admitted, climbing to his feet and casting his heat-sense behind him. He sighed in disgust, seeing the virus just barely protruding from its hidey-hole. "Trying to just cap the little bastard isn't gonna work. Griffin, what do we have that I could sink down his hole?"
Griffin rifled through their small collection of chips, giving each chip its due consideration. "Cannon, no...RageClaw, no...here we go, Quake! We got this one back in ACDC, give it a go!" The chip was slotted in and downloaded into ScorchMan's register; even with the concealing helmet, Griffin knew without even thinking that ScorchMan's brow was furrowed in concentration, studying the new data.
"Alright, loading up, and...HNNG!" One Scorch Buster reconfigured to accept the Quake chip, barrel unfolding into a solid gunmetal cigar-tube...and from the looks of ScorchMan's struggling, multiplying extensively in weight. "Heavy," he confirmed with a slight groan, supporting the arm-mounted howitzer with his opposite hand. The cannon was brought up higher and higher until he was holding it more or less right to get a cannonball sunk into the Momogra's hole. With the rough position set, ScorchMan cast his heat-sense out, feeling out the omnipresent signatures given off by every running process in the area. Chief among them was the Momogra, standing out from the ambient heat of the virtual turf as vivid as night and day. It wasn't a perfect system, and definitely not enough to completely compensate for his blindness, but it would work well enough for ScorchMan's purposes.
When the flame-Navi was convinced he had the angle right for what he was sensing, he let the mortar fire. A black ball burst from the converted buster, sailing in a textbook trajectory; meanwhile, ScorchMan massaged his arm as the gauntlet returned to its usual state, already turning to 'face' the other survivor. Behind his back, the Quake began transforming as it flew, the dense metal ball unfurling like origami-folded iron. Just as it came to rest above the Momogra's head, it finished its transformation into a solid black Powie, somehow orienting itself with the ground as it did so. Flat bottom perfectly level with the ground, it collided with a crunch of abused, splintering panels, burying itself somewhat into the already-unstable battlefield. It disappeared shortly after, the destruction it was meant to cause complete.
ScorchMan felt the impact of the Quake rumble through his boots, and smirked; years ago, he might have turned back to observe the effect the heavy press had on the terrain. It had taken a fair few reminders after he'd been blindness for him to realize that, lo and behold, cracked terrain doesn't really look that different from normal terrain when one's just looking at the heat-sigs. As it stood, he turned his attentions to the remaining Armadill. "Griffin, readout on this one?" he asked, wondering what would be enough to put the virus down for good.
"Just 20 left on it, man. Want a chip for the job?" Griffin replied, already glancing through for chips he thought the Navi might want. He wasn't altogether surprised to see ScorchMan shake his head.
"I've got this one," he brought both Scorch Busters up, taking a deep breath and reveling in the stoking of his internal flames. His shoulders and chest blazed yellow-orange in a brilliant surge, the fire spreading from his vents and licking at his armour, enshrouding him in its burning protection. The Navi-turned-Burning Man's gauntlets shone cherry-red, cooling jackets spewing flame out their riveting, and ScorchMan fired his Conflagration. The two streams of flame curled around one another, mixing into a unified torrent of flame that seared the length of the battlefield, ready to burn anything it crossed down to ashen data.
ScorchMan's inner fire flared once more, then died down to rest up. His gauntlets came down, barrels still extended, but ScorchMan's barrier remained shining bright. "Is it over?" he wondered aloud, guard relaxed behind his fiery aura.
=Turn Summary=
1. Take Aim: Momogra [Accuracy Up]
2. Quake1: Momogra [100 [color=grey]Null[/color] {C+ [Acc Up!]}, Impact, Medium Cracked Terrain]
3. Signature: Conflagration: ArmadillA [40 [color=red]Fire[/color] {A}, 20-HP Barrier]; 2TCD
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Well look at that, all that heavy lifting paid off. Scorchman did kind of drop the ball in keeping his dignity in the Momogra's eyes. All his grunting made it sink back into its hole, but it still suffered a crushing defeat as the Quake chip landed.
As for the Armadill, it was seeing red by this point, but unfortunately for it, it couldn't take the heat that followed. It fell into a burning ring of fire (or a line, at least), and turned to ash right before ScorchMan's nonexistent eyes.
Well, you won, at least.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 85 HP [GET: 800z, IronShell1]
---Viruses---
Momogra: Deleted
Drixol A: Deleted
Drixol B: Deleted
Armadill A: Deleted
Armadill B: Deleted
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Other---
Green Mystery Data: 25 HP (OPEN? Y/N)
As for the Armadill, it was seeing red by this point, but unfortunately for it, it couldn't take the heat that followed. It fell into a burning ring of fire (or a line, at least), and turned to ash right before ScorchMan's nonexistent eyes.
Well, you won, at least.
---Navis---
ScorchMan: 85 HP [GET: 800
---Viruses---
Momogra: Deleted
Drixol A: Deleted
Drixol B: Deleted
Armadill A: Deleted
Armadill B: Deleted
---Terrain---
Normal: 50%
Broken: 30% (Lots of scattered holes)
Solar: 20% (Lining the field)
---Other---
Green Mystery Data: 25 HP (OPEN? Y/N)
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<(Requesting to drop out of softlock)>
"Alright! You're looking pretty cool there, man!" Griffin grinned, proud of his badass burning Navi. "Whatcha got there?"
"Chip data and zenny, sending it up now," ScorchMan finished his scavenging, relaxing his stance. "Things are going pretty well for us; that makes, what, nine chips? Would be nice to get something a little more accurate, though..." He grimaced at the C-rank as the readout for the chip data flashed through his head, but ported it up nonetheless.
"Ehehehehe...actually, make that ten." ScorchMan could immediately sense the sheepishness in his Operator's voice, and Griffin hurried to explain, "I found a really awesome chip on the Trade BBS and I had to get it for you! It's called PileDriver; don't you want to suplex viruses all 'raaagh' and 'oooooh yeeah'?"
ScorchMan was quiet for a moment, a smile threatening to break free of his composure. "...It wouldn't be suplexing, it'd be pile-driving, you doofus. Well, fine, I can't say it doesn't sound like fun. How much did it set us back?"
Griffin laughed nervously, "Ehh...all of it?"
The smile vanished. "Wait..." ScorchMan tried to process the statement. "So, what you're saying is, you plowed through all the zenny we've gathered on one chip?"
Griffin was adamant in defending his choice, sticking his chin out and not caring that ScorchMan couldn't see it, "Pile-driving viruses, ScorchMan! Heck, pile-driving other Navis! Don't tell me that isn't worth the money spent...and besides, we just made back most of the money I spent in that battle, shouldn't take long for the chip to pay for itself." He was distracted from his ramblings by, stereotypical as it may be, something shiny glinting on the holographic screen. "Say...we've still got that buried treasure to look forward to. You took the shovel to the back for it, let's enjoy our reward!"
The prospect of buried treasure in addition to virus-wrassling proved enough to get ScorchMan smiling again. "Alright, alright," he conceded, holding his hands in mock surrender, "let's see what we've got." His heat-sense flashed out, locking onto the bright subterranean shine that had gotten him into that battle in the first place. Careful to avoid the pitfalls, the casually burning Navi made his way over to the hole, bending to pull the green crystal out of the hole. He thought to his HammerToss, and wondered idly whether he'd be adding yet another chip to his collection here.
<(GMD Open: Y)>
"Alright! You're looking pretty cool there, man!" Griffin grinned, proud of his badass burning Navi. "Whatcha got there?"
"Chip data and zenny, sending it up now," ScorchMan finished his scavenging, relaxing his stance. "Things are going pretty well for us; that makes, what, nine chips? Would be nice to get something a little more accurate, though..." He grimaced at the C-rank as the readout for the chip data flashed through his head, but ported it up nonetheless.
"Ehehehehe...actually, make that ten." ScorchMan could immediately sense the sheepishness in his Operator's voice, and Griffin hurried to explain, "I found a really awesome chip on the Trade BBS and I had to get it for you! It's called PileDriver; don't you want to suplex viruses all 'raaagh' and 'oooooh yeeah'?"
ScorchMan was quiet for a moment, a smile threatening to break free of his composure. "...It wouldn't be suplexing, it'd be pile-driving, you doofus. Well, fine, I can't say it doesn't sound like fun. How much did it set us back?"
Griffin laughed nervously, "Ehh...all of it?"
The smile vanished. "Wait..." ScorchMan tried to process the statement. "So, what you're saying is, you plowed through all the zenny we've gathered on one chip?"
Griffin was adamant in defending his choice, sticking his chin out and not caring that ScorchMan couldn't see it, "Pile-driving viruses, ScorchMan! Heck, pile-driving other Navis! Don't tell me that isn't worth the money spent...and besides, we just made back most of the money I spent in that battle, shouldn't take long for the chip to pay for itself." He was distracted from his ramblings by, stereotypical as it may be, something shiny glinting on the holographic screen. "Say...we've still got that buried treasure to look forward to. You took the shovel to the back for it, let's enjoy our reward!"
The prospect of buried treasure in addition to virus-wrassling proved enough to get ScorchMan smiling again. "Alright, alright," he conceded, holding his hands in mock surrender, "let's see what we've got." His heat-sense flashed out, locking onto the bright subterranean shine that had gotten him into that battle in the first place. Careful to avoid the pitfalls, the casually burning Navi made his way over to the hole, bending to pull the green crystal out of the hole. He thought to his HammerToss, and wondered idly whether he'd be adding yet another chip to his collection here.
<(GMD Open: Y)>