Dat Ass II: Lookin' Good in Blue (Etzolix)

It was some time after his previous visit here.

MadCross. A bustling section of Abaddon that thrived on lust, greed, and wrath that lived beneath the waves and in the darkness. He ruled all of it from a building in the capitol area, and he powered everything from here. Hundreds of corpses were transported from all over MadCross everyday to be burned for garden mulch. The large currents stirred up the hydroelectric generators to make power for the rest of the city. The desalinization plants cleaned the water. The violence bred doctors and nurses and teachers and metal smiths, not to mention gun shops. All over the city there were dozens. At the core was the Violence. The death. Oh, MadCross smelt of death: the industrial district was no small exception with all the bodies that came through here. Nobody buried their dead in MadCross. The dead were not revered or remembered. Nobody idolized a corpse-- lifelessness meant that their was weakness. In a place where death rooted out the old and sickly, the immortal ruled. The immortal always ruled.


He was not in disguise for the moment. He was in a secluded area from the rest of the city, a large glass dome hidden along a down path. It was his pet project-- a secret arena for tournaments. It had technically been finished and all the builders disposed of properly. How hungry his hands were. In twenty years of living in MadCross he had not found one foe worthy to face him. He clenched his fists and sighed, a trench coat flowing past his legs. His frame was large and muscular, but not bulky. He was svelte and his huge 6'5 frame standing in the center of the dome seemed foreboding. Against his deep Blue skin, the motion of the little sunlight filtered through the water made him almost blend with his surroundings. He stood silent, marveling at himself. Six thousand years, and finally something. The Source was finally awake. Who knows why, but the synchronization rates among certain individuals were increasing. He felt himself creeping upwards steadily in power, and rejoiced quietly. If he'd had a face, a smile would have crept across it. Instead a blank head without form examined his surroundings. Everything was going to be alright.

As he stood in the center he mused on something. Whoa. Deje vu.

MadCross. A city under the waves - he didn't mind getting wet. Etzolix had known a city under the sea before, but it was different to this. This one was unlike anything he had seen before (except the last time he fucking saw it), apparently self reliant and contained, separated for the most part from any other region she had experienced thus far. In truth, he really didn't mind getting wet. As far as he knew there weren't any formal laws, as far as she was aware, apart from 'don't die'. Cute. He had nabbed a healthy sum of money from unsuspecting prostitutes in his last visit, immediately accumulating enough wealth to sustain himself for the time being. Today, like any other day, Etzolix's, fuckass hair was white as dog shit. He still didn't want to invest in hair dye - not yet anyway.

Now he had found himself in what appeared to be the Industrial District. He had heard that gang violence was rife in these parts, but as of yet he hadn't run into any trouble. Except, that one gang that he totally assfucked on the way here but they didn't really count. They were kind of pussies. The reptile wore his typical gear of this world. A black jacket with too many pockets, a plain white t-shirt with not enough pockets, pants similar in color to his jacket but with just the right amount of pockets and shoes that were similar to his shirt in not only color but in the pocketlessness of them.

As he neared the end of the tunnel, he quickly realized what she had walked into. It was a battlefield, an arena. And in it's center, a man. Or at least what appeared to be something similar to a man. He was tall, but not inhumanly so, what was inhuman was his face... or lack thereof. Instinctively the man's hands fell to his penis, ready to draw at any second. I meant to say weapons. Whoever he was, a man standing the center of a hidden fighting arena was most likely not there to partake in an all you can fuck buffet.

He heard the steps coming through the silent hallways. Gentle thuds of boots to bronze approaching his arena and he felt a twinge of excitement come and go. He turned his faceless visage to her, the girl before him and stared at her silently for a long time. He was committing her to memory, her form, her curves... she ate well. She was ready to grab her weapons, and who could blame her? A big faceless blue thing in a dimly lit underwater dome staring at her? Did he smell shit? No, it was probably just her B.O... no, wait, it was his imagination. He choose a different shape, then. Her shape. With sick cracks and bends in his body he seemed to be crushed down to her stature and figure. Her skin color matched his own, his face hers, his hair and eyes. He smiled at her and smacked his own rump. Mmm. Firm. The proper amount of give. His face turned to one of pondering, of confusion. As he released his grip on his bum he stared forward blankly, trying to understand one thing: had he been here before? He rubbed his chin. Yeah. Same room, same motions... slightly different bitch. He'd been here before.

"Not much," he retorted in the man's voice. Wait. It was a man. He pulled at the pants he know wore and examined himself. Average size. Nothing too bad: maybe even slightly large than average. Ah, yes. It all came back to him now-- there was another fight here. He was standing right here, that other bitch over there... Wow. He scratched his head. "I need to lock this place down. Varmints keep getting in and the property values will surely drop, and this place is already a dump as it is." Hands to his sides he looked up to the man. "But you haven't shot at me yet, so I guess that's a plus. The last one had a gun. Always with the guns!" He frowned. "You know what I mean?"

"So you are from another dimension then? Interesting: I am as well." He grinned in a half cocked smirk. "Perhaps you'd like to help me christian my new arena? I already had one fight in it, but another more friendly contest would definitely liven the mood."

"Pro-tip: Abaddon is full of powerful liars. I'd say MadCross is the most honest part of the city, actually." He cracked his neck and knuckles in turn, shaking out his limbs and bouncing foot to foot briefly. The smirk on his face grew wider into a wicked smile as he fell still and in a lion stance. "But then I'd be lying to you," he chuckled. "Welcome to MadCross. I hope you enjoy your stay. Guests have the luxury of the first move."

"Aright then," he cooed arrogantly. As the arm came forward he pulled his body right and stepped forward, moving his left hand to grab the wrist there and using his other hand he prepared to parry an incoming strike. He felt a strange urge overcome him: he was going to kiss this man. It would be the surest sign of this man's lost. If he beat this man and then made out with him, it would affirm his subordinate nature.

Oh shit.

Knee.

Balls.

The pain.

He opened his mouth wide open, saliva dripping from it as he moved his face closer to Etzolix's face and then vomited. Vomit was now most likely on Etzolix's person, and so with his knee in his crotch he tried to punch Etzolix in the face.

He couldn't resist any longer. With the punch to the face unsuccessful, he then made a grab for the back of Etzolix's head and opened his mouth wide, intending to drive his tongue deep into the young child throat.

Pulling back slightly to avoid the headbutt to the nose, a slightly betrayed and horny creature delivered a long and gratuitous lick up Etzolix's forward, giving him a slight cowlick in the front of his head. The perfect counter attack, made better when Blueman lifted his own leg up to hit Etzolix in the crotch as well. Perhaps, their vomit could mingle.

The claws dug into his leg, and he rubbed his crotch against the other Etzolix's knee. Situating it firmly between his legs, moving his taint so it sat just upon the knee, he leaned forward for a headbutt. He placed his other arm up between them like a bar, in order to thwart the other one's attempts at stopping the head butt. The other wrist was still in his grip, so to be certain he could make the attack he pulled so he could be certain that the man would be off balance.

The Etzolix double said fuck that and released his grip, cancelling his attack mid pull and mid head butt and bounced backwards. "I have a better idea," he snapped his fingers and grinned. Suddenly, one other copy appeared next to him. "We will now dance for you!" The immediately began to do the tango while just behind Etzolix another copy spawned. "Their footing is off," he commented. "They are dancing much too sloppily, wouldn't you agree?"

(-20 source, 20 remaining)

The clone behind Etzolix laughed. "Well, time to punch ya!" It raised its fist back and meant to punch him in the back of the head while the Clone and the original in front broke off the dance and rushed forward to attack him at the same time.

"Blitzkrieg," the other clone shouted!

"Both of you shut up!" Three fists made their way towards Etzolix: one towards his head, two for each side of his torso. Could he dodge? COULD HE DODGE? Please god, I hope not.

(-10 source, 10 remaining)

The man caught his attack and tried to fling him into the clones-- silly move. The clones were none-solid, so he was able to pass right through them and regain his footing easily. He went back as the clones dissipated from his interference, and ran forward again. He summoned another clone directly in front of him that obscured him from view and charged the man to punch him. Perhaps this distraction of a non-solid copy would trip up the man. While the clone made the punch in front, directly behind it he fell into a slide, hoping to kick the man hard in the knee cap.

(-10, 0 Source remaining)