Celebrity Death Match

The howling winds stroked the ripped vest of Indiana, Jones the Second of the illustrious 12th division. His grumbling against the backdrop of the Hueco Mundo Jungles was ecstatically sarcastic and could be heard a mile away.

"Take after me, join the Twelfth, sonny jim!", the adventurous lost soul of seireitei grumbled. "The Holy Grail was just gonna sentence you to immortality as a hollow- at least here your old man could give you advice!"

Jones cracked his zanpaktou against the ground, a firm machete that rippled hungrily as a sleeve tore off against the constant strain of a reiatsu strengthened gale. He tilted his hat forward and spat lightly on the ground crumpling his footsteps.

"Jonesy! I've got it! The last treasure of the Last God Kings! With this, we'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams! Can't you appreciate what I've found?!"

With a kick to exaggerate his mocking lips, he adjusted his sword with a powerful grip and smote the air current with a heated blast of reishi.

"What? Oh NO, son! You've died once, what's the harm in dying again? Lousy, stinking old man!"

With a final flop against the ground, a desert storm left him stranded against a single Oasis, his bare chest sizzled in the air and he broke down on his knees, gasping as he yanked out his canteen.

*GULP GULP Tsk....AHHHHH.*

"I HATE HUECO MUNDO! I HATE SNAKES! I HAAAATTTEEE MY OLD MAAAAANNNN!"

"Sayyyyy You really should stop shouting! I mean some people are trying to sleep here!"

The Mask comes out from the back of a large boulder and tilts his hat, he stretches his leg out and then takes a large leap and stands there with a large grin on his face. He takes out a large bomb from his jacket which it's tip is already sizzling and burning away. He swallows the large bomb and it explodes in his stomach, he burps loudly and a flame shoots out from his mouth.



"YUMMAY!!! ... Now then... what's all this screaming about?"

With a blank stare the shinigami sighs and lowers his sword, staring into the soul of his tackily dressed opponent.

"Such horrible clothes, such beady and soulless eyes, that horribly disfigured pale skin, that sickish hue of green rot and ectoplasm..." he sniffs, as if testing the air for the scent of decaying corpses and finding your body odor to be enough to verify his suspicions.

With a curt nod, the shinigami Indiana from the American branch of the Rukongai grips his sword tight and kicks sand in your eyes before swinging for the head. That was the typical way to kill his horrible kind.

"Zombie."

"WHAT! ZOMBIE! WHERE?"

Just as he gets sand kicked in his eyes he screams.

"AHHHHHHHH IT BURNS IT BURNS!!"

He begins to run around crazily brushing the sand from his eyes, he luckily managed to dodge the blade. Once he takes the sand out of his eyes he stands there and searches his pockets and jacket and takes out a large amount of guns.



He begins to speak in a sly voice as he says.

"Tell me punk... Do ya feel lucky? ... Well.. Do ya? Huh Punk?"

He then begins to fire large amounts of bullets and rockets which go flying towards him, a large horde of bullets and rockets begin to chase after the Inidana Shinigami.