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readyforround3.livejournal.com"Is that it? Is that all you've got?"
Facing down the Hulk wasn't something Emil Blonsky had expected to be doing when he had signed up to capture a fugitive scientist. Being injected with a serum in order to turn into something of a supersoldier wasn't something he had expected, either.
He could still hear the adrenaline pumping through his ears when the Hulk hit him. It knocked all of the breath out of him, vaulting him backwards. He could feel his ribs cave in, his bones shatter. The air rushed by him so fast that he almost didn't see the white flash of light, almost didn't realize it when --
-- it was no longer ground flying by underneath him, but air. His arms and legs begin to move, as though trying to gain some purchase in the lessening amount of space between him and the ground. His face is contorted in a grimace, breath coming only in short, painful intervals as he tries to keep the rest of his ribcage intact.
"Oh, bloody he--"
He's cut off as he lands, with a thud punctuated by a small cloud of debris.
Even as he blinks to stave off unconsciousness, a sort of smirk twists the corners of his lips.
I'm still alive.
Welcome to the Apocalypse, Emil Blonsky.
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