[1x1] Hot Guns and Rosy Hair (West x Mot)

[Bittiface]

Mot is a lil' bit scared...

He gulped audibly, not sure what West had just done, and fired a round at the demon from where he was.

HP: 32
Damage:2  

[Smerdle]

West ran all of three steps forward then flicked his tail, sending one of the rings that decorated it spinning toward Mot. Grr.

HP: 18
Damage: 2
Effect: -4 damage. Round 1 of 3.  

[Bittiface]

HP: 16
Damage:
West: NONE
Mot: -14
Fear: High Caliber: An exploding bullet (Gambler's Chance)

Eep!

Mot winced at the hit, rubbing his arm with a frown and running from West again. Should he use his fear? Maybe he should but.. it was just so risky! He looked back at the demon, twisting his mouth in thought.

Sometimes risks were worth taking!

Not in this case! As Mot charged both pistols, aiming them at West, they began to glow brighter and brighter, filling with powerful fear. But then, as he pulled the triggers, the guns backfired, exploding in his face and causing the reaper to fly backward.

He yelped and hit the ground, groaning. "Damnit, it never works.."  

[Smerdle]

Oh hell no.

West backed up step by cautious step, unsure as to what he could do to counter whatever it was Mot was doing. He thought of manifesting his wings again, then he actually did so when he could come up with nothing better to try, his brows furrowing at the pain. The stupid things were covered with actual blood now, his blood, and it was certainly not the most comforting thing to notice at this moment. He brought them forward, intending to use the battered things as a shield, but when the cowboil's guns backfired, West took horrible, horrible advantage.

He ignored the pain, flaring his wings out again, and ran forward, aiming a kick for Mot's side.

HP: 18
Damage: 9
Effect: -4 damage. Round 2 of 3.  

[Bittiface]

HP: 7
Damage: 1

Mot barely had time ti register the opportunist coming at him before West's foot met with Mot's side, sending the reaper back another foot or two. He grunted at the hit, clutching his side and hurrying to his feet.
Right, he had to keep his head up. The battle was not over yet.

He winced and brought up one pistol, firing a shot and booking it for another side of the gym.  

[Smerdle]

His hand came up to his face this time as Mot's bullet lightly grazed his cheek. West followed the boil across the gym, fanning out his wings in an attempt to box the reaper in. He swiped at Mot with a fist then turned and tried to get some distance between them before the gun fired again.

HP: 17
Damage: 4
Effect: -4 damage. Round 3 of 3.  

[Bittiface]

HP: 3
Damage: 3

The punch made contact with Mot's cheek, his head whipping to the side from the force. Despite the stinging pain, and his now weary state, he did not allow himself to stop.

The reaper took aim at West's fleeing form and fired at his ankle.  

[Smerdle]

He felt the sting of the bullets as they struck his Achilles tendon moments before he fell, his wings flicking out of sight as his palms hit the floor. The FEAR ability that sometimes left him with a berserker-like determination to maim his opponent had faded, but strangely his anger seemed to multiply in its absence. A growl rose from the demon's throat as he pushed himself to his feet. He spun around again, limping toward the reaper with a murderous look in his eyes.

It wasn't Mot's fault. Not really. This fight had simply cracked open West's newly discovered deep and horrifying hatred of guns.

He punched the cowboil in the side. Then he hit him again. Aaaaand one more time. It might have been a bit much.

HP: 14
Damage: 9 WRY DICE WRYYYYYYYYYY ;o;  

[Bittiface]

Mot was frozen in place. He saw West coming, his guns were raised, he was ready to retaliate and yet.. he was frozen in place. That look of pure rage chilled him to the very core.

One hit

another

and another

and Mot was out cold, fallen to the floor in a heap of downed cowboil. His guns dissipated upon impact, and the reaper lay still.

HP: -6
Status: OUT LIKE A ******** LIGHT, YO!  

[Smerdle]

West pulled back his fist to hit again, but when he had to lean over in order to do so, he stopped. Whoops.

He had never knocked someone out before.

The demon cast a guilty look around the gym, and when he saw that no one was there, he bent down the rest of the way and slid his arm under Mot's back. Heh. The kid hardly weighed anything at all. West carried him over to the nearest set of bleachers and propped him up on one. He then hobbled back across the gym, retrieved his bag of piggle rinds, brought it back over to the reaper, and placed it in his hand, taking a second to prop it up at a fetching angle. Peace offering? Nouveau sculpture? Both?

With a sigh, West turned and headed back to his room.  

[Bittiface]

Mot eventually came around some hours later, head pounding and body sore. What happened? All he had seen was pink hair and fists and..

Why do I have piggle rinds?

The whole ordeal was like a bad hangover as Mot tried to remember what had happened. The reaper decided he could share his bag of snack food with Hel, since he wasn't much of an eater himself.

The reaper slowly got to his feet, hissing as pain stung from all angles, and slowly made his way to his own Dorm.