The Best Kind of Villian
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The figure slows and finally collapses to the ground, it’s head bleeding profusely through the mask… Whatever it was… it was dead now…
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The figure takes the hit, lobbing the grenade at the Spartan. He draws two tomahawk-like axes, throwing one between the Spartan’s legs, charging at him with the axe in hand, raised and ready to strike.
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The figure starts to slow, the blood more visible as it grabs the second grenade, pulling the pin on it as it lets out a muffled battle cry, punching the mask repeatedly with the blinking red grenade in hand…
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The figure sees the shields fade out, now headbutting him head on, a bit of blood leaking out of the mask…
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The leg of the figure gets decimated and falls into a bloody mess on the ground, headbutting him repeatedly as the pain only drives the insanity further…
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Faye nods a few times, “As much as I hate to admit it, I’ll have to agree with the traitor and or Daomer lady…”
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The figure raises the grenade hand, letting the knife impale the explosive as she tosses it towards the other marines, jumping at the Spartan as the fist comes down towards it…
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The bearish figure takes the hit and feels the flamer kicked out of his grasp. She then feels the man tackle him down, instinctively kicking upwards, flinging the mere human off. It takes a incendiary grenade off of her bandolier pulling the pin and charging at the Spartan with it, a orange light trailing with him as it goes for a tackle…
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Lance nods a few times and smirks at her, “Then could you do me a favor and say that someone has a cat on campus?” He says, holding the spray bottle, “Let’s just say we had a confrontation earlier…” He smirks at the girl, chuckling, “Lance. Who might you be?” He asks, holding out his free hand to shake.
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The figure takes the punch and takes a step back, the knife grazing her leg. It grunts slightly and tries to hit the Spartan with the butt of the flamer, then going for a kick forwards as he readjusts the flamer.
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The figure stands strong, aiming the flamer at the ground and letting the flames loose, heating up the ground under the door and the spartan. The grenades explode behind him, slightly thrusting him towards the door.
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The drugged figure charges at the door, taking a few hits here and there and pounding into the dishinged door with unusual strength.
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Lance nods a few times, listening to her story, “I see…” He smiles and holds the spray bottle still, “Well, I’m getting along just fine, and I even met an old friend of mine in the process of all of this.” He looks her up and down, wondering if she was telling the truth on the president’s daughter thing, “Well, do you know the policy on pets in this place?”
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The figure notices the door reflect the fire, stepping back and reaching into its holster, removing a syringe from it, injecting a set of rumbledrugs into the arm, laughing softly under the mask…
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The figure starts the weapon, the bullets hitting his armor as the flames shot ahead, a muffled laugh heard behind it.