>>5884914I do be silly like that :3
Hearing Hank’s groans, Albert charges inside and proceeds to dodge as a stray projectile strikes the initial spot he was in. Iron clawed against steel, the screech of the clash echoing like a banshee's wail in the opulent carnage of the Imperial Suit.
Hank, the avatar of fury, hammered away at a foe who resembled your archetype but he was different. A metallic suit of armor, a belt that had an orb in it and the mastery of different states as he changed colors.
Albert realizes this is the fabled Carmen rider line of the Morpher class, but he is surprised that such an opponent is working with the villains?
Each blow a defiant roar against the storm of crimson blades swirling around him. Hank's own crimson armor, once gleaming, was now a tapestry of gore, cracks spider webbing across the surface like promises of finality.
"You're a disgrace to the Morpher class!"
Hank roared, his voice raw with exertion, sweat and blood painting his face in a grotesque mask.
"A rusted cog in a machine you'll never understand!"
The Carmen Rider, a chrome colossus, laughed at the sound like gears grinding gravel.
"Morpher? I shed that shackles, friend. Now, I dance to a different tune, one fueled by the city's sweet, sweet agony! I believe I've attained the upgraded version of that class"
Each parry was a bone-jarring collision, each riposte a desperate gamble. Hank, his muscles screaming in protest, pushed himself harder, his fury a double-edged blade that dulled his senses as it sharpened his resolve. He landed a glancing blow, the Carmen Rider's helmet sparking as if struck by lightning.
"You fight with conviction, Red Ranger," the Rider sneered, his voice distorted by the helmet's modulator.
"But such is a brittle weapon, easily shattered and you cannot hope to leave here alive do you? After all, you just stormed a business and injured many of it's employees."
The Rider raises his arm, slowly his armor color begins changing. Albert, his shields flickering in a dying defiance, braced himself. His hand, shaking with the weight of their collective fate, pulsates with bluish energy.
This, he knew, was their last stand. And the line between hero and villain had never been so blurry, so stained with the vermilion scene of this brutal dance.
