Final Round - Pin VS Gira

Pin stood in the holding area while he awaited the announcement of the final match, helmet in hands. He stared into the reflective surface of its purple dome, stone-faced and silent. This tournament had turned out to be quite different than he’d expected, and while he felt a certain sense of accomplishment having made it to the finals, a small voice in the back of his head wouldn’t shut up.

“You didn’t earn this, doll. You’ll never win it.” It sounded like his mother. Like Mizuna.

But that voice was wrong. It always was. He’d fought and won each match, against progressively powerful enemies. He’d even faced a shadow of himself, or rather of his father. He was proud of that outcome, having turned the Mechanical Punisher’s brain over to the Vargas to have his proper body revived. Whether or not that would change the scientist’s overall personality was yet to be seen, but Pin had a good feeling about it. He knew his own body, and if the Universe 15 version was anything like it then it was never meant to house an organic processor like that. The strain had likely been driving the man mad over the course of years.

Pin shook his head, pulled from his reverie by the call of his name and the roar of the crowd. He slid the helmet on and strode out into the arena once more. As he entered to the cheers and applause and calls of his name, he saw his opponent already soaking in the admiration. Smiling, he decided to take a moment for himself as well. Win or Lose, he’d proven himself worthy at least of standing amongst the most skilled fighters in his class across the multiverse. He’d come for a wish, but regardless of the outcome he’d bring home glory.

As Gira settled into her fighting stance, Pin raised an eyebrow. Her name had been familiar when it was announced, but she looked vaguely familiar too. It dawned on him after a moment - this girl was one of the doppelgangers of his very first opponent in the tournament.

“You again? How narratively poetic. I hope you’re a better fighter than the other one, all obsessed with power but ultimately disappointing.”

Pin drew his pistol and took aim at Gira, leveling the advanced weapon at center mass. No need to go for the head shot here. She was likely to be just as quick as any of his opponents had been. Best to maximize his chances.

“Let’s make a show of it, shall we?”

With that, Pin opened fire with a short burst of three basic pistol shots, each targeted at Gira’s chest and stomach.

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Pin opens fire with basic ki shots!

KP 3/3

Gira

If nothing else, Pin had to admit that at least this Gira was more polite and friendly than her edgier counterpart. He was glad that she was somewhat more like Chai in demeanor than his other opponents, as he’d been growing weary of fighting the angry and the self-assured. When she easily dodged his opening shots, he smiled. He’d just been dunking his toe in the water, but the way an opponent handles simple attacks like that says a lot about their fighting style.

“I think we both know that this will be about more than luck, but it won’t hurt either!”

Gira fired back with a flurry of golden ki blasts of her own, though each of them just like Pin’s blaster shots had been. She was testing him, though she’d done more than just call his bet - she’d raised him three. Pin took to the air with his propulsors, dodging the first few blasts and counteracted the rest with pistol fire. Each one burst in the air with a thick grey smoke and a small lightshow. The crowd cheered. He wondered if the spectators even really understood what they were watching, if they’d know the difference between these little fireworks and something truly planet-busting. He figured some of them must know - hell, he thought he could hear the voice of Queen Habana, cheering him violently from the crowd, but he didn’t have time to look. It was a fight, after all.

“So what’s got you so motivated that you’d enter a tournament that’s giving out wishes? Looking for the best egg salad recipe, or maybe some super-soft underwear?”

He’d been asking this question of his opponents, and he was genuinely curious for a couple of reasons. On the one hand, he just wanted to know what people considered worthy of a true, magic wish. On the other, it gave him yet another look into his opponent’s mind. Someone who just wanted wealth or fame or power for its own sake would be less motivated than someone like the Mechanical Punisher, who wanted multiversal vengeance, or Chai, who just wanted to go home.

Of course, Pin didn’t just ask the question. He followed it with another round of pistol fire, followed by the deployment of one of his four Aranea arms, which stretched towards Gira in a thrusting attack, claws extended.

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Pin asks why Gira is here, and then attacks her again!

KP 3/3

Gira

Pin listened to Gira explain her wish, express her feelings of vulnerability so openly and without reservation, all while throwing a flurry of attacks his way. As she spoke, he blocked, dodged, or otherwise mitigated most of her punches and kicks, though a couple got through his defenses to land on his armor. None of them were of particular consequence. He had to admire this version of Gira on some level - to come this far, driven by a desire borne of insecurity, but refusing to buckle under its weight or flinch in the face of potentially insurmountable odds. He could relate.

But strength was not something that required a wish. Quick strength, maybe. Ultimately hollow strength. If her loved ones were in some immediate danger he might have felt some greater sympathy for her. But as it stood, she had another path she could walk.

“At least you want to use the power for something worthwhile,” he said as she pivoted around behind him, “That’s better than most.”

As she went to deliver her kick to his back, another of his Aranea arms deployed, wrapping around her leg like a chrome constrictor snake. It extended, lifting Gira high up into the air over Pin’s head.

“But your wish can be attained the old-fashioned way. I’ve got no other path to mine. I won’t regret it if I defeat you, but I do hope for the best for you.”

With that, Pin brought his Aranea arm down hard, swinging Gira like some sort of club directly into the ground. He would do it again, and again, for as long as he could keep hold of her leg or until he was the winner.

“I won’t patronize you so much as to ask if you will submit. We’ve both come this far for a reason.”

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Pin responds with a unique attack of his own!
KP 3/3
Gira

Pin’s smile faded slightly behind his helmet. He hadn’t expected - or even wanted - for Gira to suddenly have some change of heart and back down. He knew he’d have to fight for his wish. But for her to take his well-wishes for her to accomplish her goals regardless of the outcome of this fight and send them back at him, unchanged...it felt hollow. Like she hadn’t heard the part where he’d said this was his only real option.

Sure, he could gather the Dragon Balls, but good fucking luck with that. He wouldn’t have even the slightest idea where to start, and there was no guarantee he’d ever find them all, let alone keep the ones he did find long enough to use them. No, winning here was the only real way to get what he wanted.

He cursed as Gira caught herself and pulled him into a throw. He’d gotten into his own head, gotten distracted. He went sailing towards the Arena’s edge, but managed to right himself with his propulsors before coming anywhere dangerously close to a ringout. This was, of course, just in time for Gira to appear beside him and launch her attack.

It wasn’t particularly powerful, all things considered, but he could tell she’d put a little something extra into it. In the fraction of a second he had - more than enough time for his processor - he considered his options. He could try to dodge it, or put up an energy shield. He could neutralize it with pistol fire. Or, one last time, he could lean into the unique strengths his father had given him when he built this mechanical body.

Pin crossed his arms over his chest and braced for impact. As Gira’s attack landed, it knocked him back into the floor of the arena, and left cracks spiderwebbing through the armor of his gauntlets. The arena floor sported a small crater where he’d made impact, and a cloud of dust had been kicked up all around him.

He didn’t wait, or try to play games hiding in the dust like he’d done in the past. Those tactics wouldn’t avail him any longer if things went his way. They were the strategies of a mechanical hunter, a weapon of unjust and unfeeling war. They were a doll’s playthings, and Pin...Pin would not be a doll anymore.

“A Super Saiyan,” he said, careful not to sound impressed, “I wish I could say I’m surprised. Good instincts there, great shot. But I gotta tell you…”

Pin reached up and took off his helmet, revealing the surprisingly boyish face and bronze-gold mohawk beneath. His eyes were a dull turqoise, devoid of that special something that living eyes contained. But then a small orange light ignited behind them. The roar of an engine’s furious pistons echoed throughout the arena. The air around him began to ripple with waves of heat as steam rose from his body.

“I cut my teeth on the greatest Super Saiyan alive right now. I hear her, cheering...calling my name. And I think, in this moment, she’s worried.”

He tossed his helmet aside as he thrust both arms out straight, as if declaring himself to the universe, his chest wide open. Purple-and-gold energy arced like lightning off of his body as all four of his Aranea arms deployed, slamming into the Arena floor like stabilizing bolts.

“Not for me, but for you. See, originally I planned to contain myself, to keep a lid on the Empire’s dirty laundry. But to hell with that. This fight’s gonna be my last chance, after all…”

Pin thrust his head forward slightly, his face contorting into one of spite and derision and mechanical, unfeeling disdain. Energy began to pool noticeably in his hands.

“MY LAST CHANCE TO SAY GOODBYE TO THE MOMMA’S BOY! GET READY, MEAT, BECAUSE IT’S TIME I SENT YOU PACKING!”

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Pin has activated Overdrive, cutting loose the Momma’s Boy one last time!

Pin is charging [SP] Final Flash! 100%, next turn 200%!

Gira

Pistons firing without the standard limiters, the roar echoing from within Pin’s chest only intensified as Gira landed and declared herself ready - no, EAGER - to take whatever Pin had for her. Even in his Overdrive state, which had historically been unstable and difficult to control, Pin had to hand it to the girl. She had courage, the sort of stuff that a real warrior was made of. Give Gira enough time and the right resources and she’d go on to be one of the heavy hitters in her universe, whichever it may be.

But it grew increasingly difficult to focus on his opponent’s merits. Soon he wouldn’t even be able to see them, let alone acknowledge them. This fog that overtook his processor, the intense heat of overdrive that robbed him of most of his more sophisticated reasoning and reduced him to the vicious and cruel Momma’s Boy, was starting to take greater control. He started to pick out small flaws, subjective little things that he would blow out of proportion.

Her hair, her stance, her voice, all of them began to irritate the mechanical hunter to the point where he started to hate her. How dare she stand against him with the things at stake? How dare she even show up to this fight, stand in this arena where titans stood and fell? She, barely a passing thought in this universe, just flesh and blood that would soon be dust, had no right to stand before such a marvel of engineering. Pin would inherit this universe when all else was dead. Of this much, he was certain.

“There’s one thing this tournament has taught me!” he shouted over the howling of his engine and the cheers of the crowd. “It’s that flesh is weak, and petty, and selfish! That I’m an idiot to want to be anything like the rest of you! Like her! I shouldn’t wish for flesh, but for the eradication of its trappings in my core! Because I am weak! I am petty! I am selfish! And I could be so. Much. More.”

He let out a mighty yell, and funneled more power into his attack. Cooling fans sputtered and failed, sparking to death inside his body. The crackling purple and gold energy arced further and further from his body, reaching ever closer to the barrier bewtween the arena and the stands. He would put everything he had into this attack. He would destroy Gira, or himself.

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Pin has continued charging Final Flash! Now 200%, next turn 300%

Gira

The head in Pin’s body raised ever higher, the air around him beginning to nearly glow of its own accord from the intense temperatures his engine was spitting out through his ventilation ports. The arena floor itself was likely so hot beneath his feet that it could cook an egg. Pin watched as Gira screamed like a petulant child and charged more energy into her own body - a feeble, organic attempt to match the might and fury of Saiyan engineering.

He would wait no longer. Waiting, biding his time while he built up his energy, had been the strategy of the other Pin, the calm Pin. The Hunter, the would-be Herald of the Saiyan Queen. The Momma’s Boy, as he was called - the murderer, the marauder, the slavering would-be world eater, was not so patient. He brought his arms to bear in front of his chest, palms pointed outward at Gira. His Aranea arms dug deeper into the Arena to stabilize and balance his body as he brought such an immense amount of energy to bear.

“THIS TOURNAMENT IS OVER! I HOPE THESE BYSTANDING SYCOPHANTS ENJOY THIS FINAL…..”

A great torrent of energy burst forth from Pin’s palms, purple and bronze-gold, barreling straight for Gira without mercy. This was the might of Saiyan engineering combined with the greatest weapon of the Empire, granted to him by the Queen herself when she was still just Commander. This was the sum of Pin’s existence - an angry, insecure weapon that came here for one reason: to attack and keep coming. Not to ask, but just to give, not to want but just to shout, shout the power of the ultimate Saiyan warrior.

“FLAAAAAAAAASSSH!”

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Pin has fired Final Flash at Gira ! 300% for a total of 750,000 PL coming right for her!

KP 0/3


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