[Old habits die hard. Some don't ever kick the bucket. Bakugo doesn't go out patrolling around the peacock looking for bad guys to beat up. He's aware this place kidnapped heroes and villains and everything in between. Damage repairs itself, death never sticks, jail's a fucking joke, who knows if stolen items simply reappear since the resort staff and vendors always seem to be stocked no matter what happens. Heroes often try to protect and improve the world, while villains often try to harm or change it. So what happens when people of either alignment are stuck in a place that refuses to change and needs no protection? Stagnant...
Shit thoughts like that randomly come to mind, fueling another flurry of blows and explosions. Something snaps past his ear and he jerks to the side, plastering his back against a nearby wall. He checks his watch; no indication he was hit, but he felt it right through his hair. Tch, some fucking sniper somewhere. Red eyes scan about the area, muscles tense and ready to move. Given the direction, the person shouldn't be able to reach him without banking or rebounding the shot.
Another shot, this one almost taking Chobe in the shoulder.]
To your left! [Even as the words leave his mouth, Bakugo sees the man already tracking the shot. A quick twist, both hands charging up, and each militant hesitating in front of Chobe's neck-crushing display is abruptly caught in a fiery hailstorm of explosive rounds. Smaller explosions build up, erupting smoke from the roof until there's nothing left. One arm swats to the side, throwing billowing clouds away in a slice as Bakugo walks from the gray vapor.]
You wanna see me punch someone in the face?
[Should've seen the answer to that question already when he had Chobe pinned to the floor in a martial artist grapple.]
no subject
Shit thoughts like that randomly come to mind, fueling another flurry of blows and explosions. Something snaps past his ear and he jerks to the side, plastering his back against a nearby wall. He checks his watch; no indication he was hit, but he felt it right through his hair. Tch, some fucking sniper somewhere. Red eyes scan about the area, muscles tense and ready to move. Given the direction, the person shouldn't be able to reach him without banking or rebounding the shot.
Another shot, this one almost taking Chobe in the shoulder.]
To your left! [Even as the words leave his mouth, Bakugo sees the man already tracking the shot. A quick twist, both hands charging up, and each militant hesitating in front of Chobe's neck-crushing display is abruptly caught in a fiery hailstorm of explosive rounds. Smaller explosions build up, erupting smoke from the roof until there's nothing left. One arm swats to the side, throwing billowing clouds away in a slice as Bakugo walks from the gray vapor.]
You wanna see me punch someone in the face?
[Should've seen the answer to that question already when he had Chobe pinned to the floor in a martial artist grapple.]