Quoted By:
>-4!
Feeling desperate, you waited until he got close, hoping to catch him off guard. And as soon as he advanced, you spread your hands wide and clapped them together with all your might.
The result was a crisp “snap” that filled the air and drowned out the audience’s cheers for a moment. You’d hoped the sudden act would stun the supposedly blind man. It was a safe bet, considering how he had picked out your name from across the room with his acute hearing.
Unfortunately, the blind man didn’t even break stride as his fist crashed into your nose. You fell backwards, clutching your face as blood poured from it.
<span class="mu-r">“Fuck! It always works when the big green guy does it!”</span>
Stick seemed to smile at that comment, but he showed no signs of slowing down.
Relying on your final trump card, you lifted your hand and focused on the feeling you had when you caused that drywall to explode. You dug deep, hoping that with your back against the wall, the pressure eating away at your nerves and your body and mind pushed to its limit…!
But nothing happened. Not even a sizzle. You released a small, ragged breath, before the blind man’s knee crashed into your face. And then, everything went black.
—---
>>The ”Built Different” Talent has been activated! It has been exhausted, and will become available again at a later date.
Before, you knew only pain and despair. Now…you could barely feel a thing. Your head was spinning, and you struggled to grasp onto a solid idea for longer than a split second.
A strange numbness swept over your body, and your aching head begged you to have mercy on it. You didn’t want to get up again. You didn’t want to get hit again. For the first time since you’ve gotten these powers, you encountered an insurmountable strength that you had no chance of overcoming with your skills and wits alone. It just wasn’t enough.
But when has that ever stopped you before?
<span class="mu-r">“Come on! Get the fuck up!”</span> you muttered, cursing yourself under your breath and slurring the words slightly.
<span class="mu-b">“7!”</span>
<span class="mu-r">“Get up! Come on, move!”</span>
<span class="mu-b">“8!”</span>
<span class="mu-r">“Okay…okay…”</span>
<span class="mu-b">“9!”</span>
You let out a guttural roar and pushed with all your might. At least, all that remained of it.
The crowd went wild. Your ears were ringing, and you could barely make out their frenzied shouts. The ref was eyeing you curiously to see if you had any fight left in you.
Stick never took his eyes, or…ears off of you. He just sat there, waiting to see what you would do. You raised your guard, trying to look tough, but even you knew that was just a front.
You could barely stand, let alone fight. Your head felt like it was filled with cotton. There was a sinking feeling in your gut that told you you weren’t going to win this. You were almost certain of it. Hell, even if you did, you’d be in absolutely no condition to fight Typhoid Mary. But, so what? People have been kicking the shit out of you your whole life.
(Cont.)
