Dimensional Descent

The seething rage pumped through Leonel's veins. He tried to rationalize it, but after a moment he was too pissed to do even that. Every time Manson felt like she was close to bursting his head like a watermelon, her body would be rocked by a wave of pleasure and spark yet another connection in Leonel Dreamscape.

After the third time, Leonel cut himself off from that bundle of connections entirely, his thoughts fuming. And yet, every time it happened, Manson's face would only become more flushed and her actions more drunk.

Even as this happened, her kicking speed seemed to increase and her body became more limber. Leonel was suddenly having a tougher and tougher time predicting her next attack because they simply had no logic to them. This forced him to go from using his predictive model toward his muscle analysis model.

Leonel was under no illusions about his strength versus Manson's no matter how pissed he was. As far as he could tell, Manson was Tier 2 of the Fifth Dimension while the rest of her companions were Tier 1.

Leonel wasn't able to dodge her attacks because he was strong enough, he was completely relying on his ability to do so and that was quickly becoming almost impossible.

As though Manson was just stretching her limbs and only just getting into a rhythm, the whistling of her kicks became sharper and sharper, trailing Leonel by a hair's breadth.

"The kid's survived quite a while." Double Shot spoke, his hands itching.

"She just likes playing with her food. Just enjoy the show, she's getting more perky." Shadow Rat responded.

As usual, didn't say a word, taking a snap shot of every wardrobe malfunction he could catch a glimpse of.

'This is some good material. It'll last me at least a week. This is good, really good…'

"It's been about half a minute, don't you think the miners should have heard something by now?" Shadow Rat asked.

"If they know what's good for them, they'll stay out of Manson's way. I doubt she'll go as easy on them as she's going on this kid."

to work the mines too. Everyone is trying to meet and

forgot you were a sewer

yourself, you think it's easy being here? I made more money doing this than you've seen in your

made less money, and had

jams, son

wig glue dries

BANG!

whip about, the side of his uniform hammer pants gaining a large rip as Manson's failed to land yet

anchor point as she

kicks were as fluid as any sequence of punches. They were relentless and flexible, perfectly timed and

vanish into his spatial ring. He rolled to the side,

his eyes and the all pervading coldness that

flying particles of stone that had hung in the air due to Manson's violent barrage clung to

injury on his body. Even as he breathed long and

still haven't moved because they're quite confident in her ability to end all of this. Should I take the opportunity to kill her? Or

plans with a better than 80% likelihood of ending

whether to proceed, Manson's brow would twitch and her actions would shift. It

drunk her mind became, the sharper her instincts

adapt with nothing to go off of now, then the more information he gave her, the better her adaptation response would be, and the less

she seemed to need to be inebriated to use it was a huge negative… Unless she could fight someone she wanted to kill

'In that case…'

foot planted, his body attempting to

shot down from above, barely missing his chest by a centimeter. Yet, before it even had, in a feat of shocking flexibility, Manson's back arched