Suggested changes: {before : after}
On 06/14/2005 09:30 AM, DB Sommer said:
Waves lapped against the sides of ships moored at the docks as they
had since the dawn of man. A briny scent filled the air, the ocean
forcing its flavor anywhere it could touch. The full moon reflected
off the water, providing enough illumination for a group of sailors
working on the docks in the dead of night. The men were dressed in
clothing that would have attracted the attention of anyone that saw
them, had it not been near one AM. Most were stripped to the waist,
with a number of ostentatious tattoos decorating their bodies. All
had at least a dagger strapped to their belts, along with a number of
less bloody instruments, such as truncheons and blackjacks. All were
implements of pain, and each man appeared strong and rough enough to
have inflicted such on any who would irritate {them : him}.
In a flash the cutlass was pulled free of Kraken's belt and swung,
neatly decapitating the {man's head from his shoulders : man}. "I
hate comedians!" As the body fell to the ground, gushing blood,
Kraken turned to the rest of his crew. "Now then, you scurvy dogs,
don't stand there gawking. Get that merchandise on board."
Daredevil had to credit the commander. His voice had remained steady
as the man drew the weapon when he got to the word 'spoke' and
continued talking as though nothing had happened. Had Daredevil not
been able to sense the sudden jump in the commander's heartbeat, even
he probably would have been taken by surprise.
No noise from the holster either?
The pirate underestimated Daredevil's recuperative powers as the
blind man raised his arms {up :}. From his sleeves spat out a huge
white cloud, hitting Kraken in the face and driving him back.
"Gar, not the old fire extinguisher to the face trick!" The pirate
tried looking through the white mist surrounding him, but could see
nothing.
Third time this week?
"Correct." Barracuda's hand started to lift the patch when an arrow
hit it, the tip exploding and dousing half of his face {in it : with
glue : with whipped cream}.
"Which he did," Captain Japan added. "You've really got to learn
about this whole group of heroes thing. You {cab : can} get a lot
more accomplished working as a team, like those two losers did when
they two-on-one'd you."
Unless he hab a colb. :}b
The flat of the blade met Kraken's head, a discharge of {electrity :
electricity} following.
"No, can't say I have. And I'd remember a distinctive thing like {hat
: that}. An exotic color like that would triple her price."
If only Elektra hadn't died in China. She had known Shampoo. It had
been the only lead he had to his love's identity in the last ten
years. How ironic that it had come to him when he wasn't looking for
it. And then it was lost as quickly as it had been found. It wasn't
fair, though at least he knew she was still alive. Probably. He
doubted Elektra's reaction to Shampoo's name would have been so
fierce had it been in the distant past. He had to keep looking, no
matter the cost. So he spent nearly all of his time trying to dig up
leads with an obsessive vigor. His grades were suffering, and he had
been skipping Avengers' summons for the last week as well. Finding
Shampoo was what mattered.
I wonder if he's mentioned Elektra to Stick.
Matsuo Tsurayaba stared over the long table at his fellow lieutenants
in the Hand. For the most part they dressed in traditional kimonos,
though a few {were contemporary :}, like Matsuo, and preferred
Armani. Any casual observer would have no idea that among then ten of
them, they had killed close to a thousand men.
Matsuo answered, "It's Elektra, Sir. She's killing the men we keep
sending to kill her."
Glad that reports of her demise were greatly exaggerated.
Youji scoffed. "Nah, I tried it. They start whining and bitching
about size, tempo, and want to be held afterwards, like it's all
about them. When I sleep with a girl, it's all about me and my
pleasure, not them. Doing it when they're dead makes it easier for
both of us.
Probably safer too, considering his taste in girls.
He returned his attention to the trio of men moving about him. The
one that had fired the crossbow moved above him, seeking a line of
fire while maintaining his distance. Two others were on the same
level he was, trying to flank him, one heavier than the other judging
by the sound of their treads. He couldn't sense any of them pursuing
their primary target, Elektra. Maybe they weren't as good at sensing
things as they were at hiding {them :: then}.
As he wrapped it up, a voice cracking with the weight of age said,
"Haven't you idiots learned to not go into battle without a plan?
You're lucky I happened along or it would have been the end for both
of you."
I thought that was her when you mentioned the cue.
"I should just leave you {know : now} to a lifetime of wallowing in
your self-inflicted wounds," Elektra snarled. "But since Shampoo
meant something to me, and you meant something to her, I will share
with you an item she gave to me: the truth."
I guess she spent some time practicing to say that.
Elektra nodded. The crone was good, and the assassin had the terrible
feeling that under these conditions, she was outclassed even more
badly than she had been against {th4e : the} Snakeroot. "Yes. Shampoo
knew of a method that her tribe would sometimes use. They had a
saying. 'When a life can no longer be lived, then it is time to cast
it, and everything related to it, aside forever so that a new one
could be chosen.' And they had an ancient place where the Gods would
help them choose what life it is they should lead. I believe that
ancient tradition will serve me well."