Deviant. Art. Johnny: All right, the combatants are set. Let’s end this debate once and for all. But…before any of you guys ask, I still haven’t found where Kym was after she…well, see the Raven vs Slenderman Prelude to see what happened to her. So, running out of options, I decided to call a substitute!
Enter James, the writer for these battles! James: I told you that I didn’t want to do this! I’d like to stay in my own office, sitting in front of my writing desk, formulating how to make characters die gruesome deaths in a one on one battle to the death! Johnny: ………………a decision that I’m rapidly regretting…James: Whatever.
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Let’s just get this over with. Johnny: Right then. It’s time for a DEATH BATTLE!- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -It was high moon. Graffiti was scrawled all over the walls, printing out grotesque pictures of smiling faces (Joker’s work, no doubt). The grounds were laden with bits of burnt paper, cigarette butts, and broken whiskey bottles, some of them stained with blood……as if they had been stabbed into a human body. The full moon shone high up in the sky, lighting up the alleyway in a cold white light.
This was when the worst of the worst, the strongest of the strong, and the most wicked of all criminals came out to prowl the streets. Yet none of them were courageous enough to brave the streets tonight. All because of one man. A man walked around the corner of an alleyway, whistling and with hands in the pockets of his biker jacket.
He had a Glock strapped to his side, and had a combat knife bound at his side. The most distinguishing part of his features was a helmet he wore on his head. It was blood red, with two black eye holes staring emptily in front of him. This was the infamous vigilante known as the red hood. He was prowling the streets, looking to clean up any scum of the city’s underbelly that dared to cross his path. He heard some scuffles and movement up ahead.
Under the mask, the Red Hood grinned. Finally, a victim at last. He gripped the handle of his Glock and ran off towards the sound.
He rounded a corner, nocking over a trash can in his excitement, and saw…something he didn’t expect to see. A man, a criminal by the looks of him, was sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. His dirty cap was ripped in two, the pockets of his jackets were all torn out and some of them were stained with blood, spilling dirty dollar bills to the ground. His face was what horrified the Red Hood the most.
It looked like someone had ripped a knife right across it. He knew because he had done so plenty of times himself. The criminal was tied to a lamp post, blood trickling to the ground from his head. A small pool was forming, and the man gasped, drowning in his own blood. Red Hood wasn’t fazed by this.
He had seen bloodier scenes than this. No, what troubled him was the question: who could have done this? Red Hood walked into the light……and as he moved in to question the criminal about the identity of his assailant, he got his answer. BANG! A gunshot sounded through the night, and the criminal’s head exploded. Bits of his skull, grey matter, skin, and flecks of blood spattered onto the ground as the criminal was terminated on the spot. It wasn’t Red Hood who did this, though. No, Red Hood whirled around to face the attacker, whipping up his Glock and pointing it in front of him.
A man stood in front of him, looking like he was in his mid- thirties. He was well built, with muscles bulging through his shirt. He wore a black vest – Kevlar, by the looks of it – with a white skull painted on the center. The man also had a gun – a Beretta – and was pointing it directly at Red Hood.
He didn’t wear a mask. His face was exposed, showing his eyes, burning in his head. They were filled with an emotion that Red Hood knew the best.
Anger. Hatred smoldering in his eyes, struggling to burst free. For an agonizing ten seconds, the two men pointed their guns at each other, locked in a Mexican standoff. Then Red Hood spoke“Who are you?” the he asked the skull – shirt man.“Punisher.” Was the short reply.“And what’s your deal here? Who do you intend to…punish?” Red Hood asked, a slight mocking tone in his voice. Punisher was silent for a few seconds, his gun never wavering from Red Hood’s head. I come to punish you.
I killed the man here because I knew it would draw you to me. I intend to clean you off the streets…permanently.” He spat with venom in his voice. Under the mask, the former Robin’s eyes narrowed. And how do you plan on doing that?” he asked, daring him to try.“Same way you clean up the other scum.”“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.” Red Hood mocked, slowly walking forward, towards the Punisher.
Listen, big guy. I ain’t you average brawler. So If I were you, I’d put the gun down.”Red Hood took the Punisher’s tightening grip on his gun as an answer. FIGHT! BANG! BANG! Both combatants fired at the same time.
Punisher fired directly at Red Hood’s forehead. The Red Hood fired at the center of the Punisher’s skull pattern. Both shots hit. Red Hood jerked back slightly, but didn’t fall. His helmet was better than that. Punisher also flinched, but his trusty Kevlar vest had saved him from doom. They looked at each other for a moment, realized that neither of them was dead yet, and fired off again. Red Hood dashed towards the Punisher, all the while sidestepping the bullets that the opponent was firing.
He leaped into the air, soaring towards the skull – shirt man, and swung his gun down towards the Punisher’s face. Punisher responded by leaning slightly to the side, letting the gun graze the side of his face, before bringing his foot around for a vicious kick. Red Hood saw it coming, and immediately rolled, the kick missing him just by a hair’s breath. Jason was quick to get back on his feet, and was firing his Glock once more. This time, however, the Punisher took off running sideways, dodging the bullets that the Red Hood was firing.
He leapt forward and rolled, coming to a crouch behind a dumpster. He ducked as Red Hood fired a few more rounds into where he was hiding.“Running already?” Red Hood taunted. I thought you were going to punish me. Well, here I am. Do it!” he shouted. There was no answer from the Punisher.“Come on! Why don’t you come out here and face me?” Red Hood walked over to the dumpster. He also crouched down, wary of a sneak attack.
He edged his way around the metal box…Only to find the space behind it completely empty. And that was when the Punisher struck. Only sheer instinct and his reflexes gained form his training saved him as Punisher unloaded a hail of bullets in his direction, courtesy of his M1. A3. He threw himself behind a parked truck, and caught his breath. A cluster of silver bullet holes formed on the truck’s metal surface as the Punisher fired away, intending to turn the boy into Swiss cheese. He continued, but Red Hood was wisely keeping under cover.
Frank changed tactics. He lowered the barrel of the gun, pointing it not at the metal surface, but at the gas tank below the truck.
He aimed it carefully, making note of a pair of shoes visible through the gap beneath the truck, and fired his shot. The bullet impacted the gas tank, and oil leaked out.
It started staining the ground, washing over the pair of shoes, until –BOOM! The truck blew up in a spectacular fireball that would have made Michael Bay fall over in love.
A massive pillar of smoke soared into the sky, staining the moon black. The oil on the ground caught fire, and a blaze sprung up. Soon, the entire alleyway was looking like Ghost Rider had driven through it…minus the screaming souls. Satisfied, the Punisher walked through the fires, careful not to catch himself on fire. He peeked around the black, twisted scrap of metal the truck had been reduced to.
What he found was a pair of shoes burning on the ground……and nothing more. Frank was still deliberating on how an explosion could have completely eradicated a human when he heard a gunshot.
Frank looked down to see blood leaking out of his arm, a gaping bullet hole in it. Red Hood stood in front of him, his smoking gun still pointed directly at the Punisher.“You honestly fell for the old shoe trick?” Red Hood jeered, gesturing at the shoes on the ground, and to the new pair on shoes he was wearing.“I’m resourceful. And I know just how to dispose of trash like you.” Jason continued.
Put a bullet in them, and they all eventually fa- “ a gunshot brought him out of his monologue. Jason quickly dodged to the side, sidestepping an otherwise mortal wound. He looked up to see the Punisher still standing, aiming his gun at him. The bullet wound in his arm was oozing blood, but that didn’t seem to bother him at all. Red Hood was taken aback for a moment. That was a direct shot to your arm!” he said.“You got too many screws loose in your head, punk.” Punisher spat.
He squeezed the trigger of his assault rifle - ! Faster than Frank could have imagined, Red Hood whipped out something from his belt and threw it at his gun. It whizzed through the air as Frank pulled the trigger, expecting to riddle the boy with bullets. And then…nothing happened. Punisher frowned, and tugged the trigger again.
The gun didn’t fire. He looked at his gun, wondering if it had somehow jammed. What he found was a small metal shuriken- like object sticking out of his gun barrel. A Batarang. He looked at Red Hood, who shrugged in a ‘what’re you gonna do about it?’ gesture. And what did the punisher do? He charged right at the Red Hood. Red Hood also ran forwards, his fists raised.
They both leapt towards each other, drawing back for the strongest punch they could give. They connected, at the same time. Punisher’s gloved hand slammed into the Red Hood’s nose, at the same time Red Hood’s gauntleted fist smashed into the Punisher’s cheek. It was Jason who stumbled backwards in pain though. Frank just stood there, jerked back a little, and held his ground. Jason reached up and felt the helmet, but it was fine.